Page 10 of His Vivacious Angel
“I’ll bake him a blueberry one instead.”
Mom squeezes Dad’s hand. Despite her worry, her eyes water with laughter.
Chapter Four
Forest
Between the air freshener and the ten extra sprays of cologne I put on this morning, as I’ve done over the past four days, my head pulses with an impending migraine. Autumn tests the limits of my patience every time she coughs, waving her hand in front of her face with a grimace.
When I’ve finally had enough, only three hours into the work day—it really doesn’t take her long to get under my skin—I snap, “I don’t stink. I’m wearing cologne.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” she says. Flecks of gold glitter in her hair like a halo from the sunshine streaming through the window. It’s annoying how pretty she is, especially when her personality is anything but. “Try not to use half the bottle next time, BigDawg. It’s giving me a headache.”
My face immediately burns with humiliation, and my molars are liable to crack from how hard I grind them together. “I told you. It’s ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Woods’ at work.”
“My apologies,sir.” Autumn stands and straightens her tight pencil skirt. She’s wearing another one of her colorfuloutfits, a bright beacon in the sea of dark, neutral suits at the office.
Swerving around her desk, she moves to the copy machine pushed into the corner to my right. She’s kicked off her high heels, her toenails painted a summery white. Tiny silver stars dangle from one of her delicate ankle bracelets that pair well with her two toe rings, one on each foot. Are they permanently soldered on, like the kind one can get at the Renaissance Festival? Or does she pick out new ones each day? How many does she have? I bet she has many, given the impressive rotation of jewelry she wears to the office.
“You have a foot fetish or something?” she asks.
I jerk my head up. I hadn’t realized how far my attention had strayed from my work, horrified that she’s caught me looking at her bare feet. “No!”
“Hey, no judgment here,” she says, lifting her hands in the air. “Let your freak flag fly.”
I jerk the knot in my tie away from my neck, which is growing hotter. “I told you, I don’t.”Do I?I don’t think so.
“Uh huh. But just in case you do…” She leans back against the copy machine. “I charge seventy-five dollars for the first picture. Fifty-five for each pic after that. I’ll even throw in a video if you pay for my next pedicure.”
I gape at her. “You seriously sell feet pics?”
“God, you’re so easy fuck with, BigDawg,” she says with one of those melodic laughs, turning to gather the documents she had printed. I hate that I love hearing it so much, especially since it’s at my expense.
I crack my neck and reach into my laptop bag, setting the glass jar I’d brought with me on my desk. “That’ll be three dollars, shrimp.”
“Excuse me? Shrimp?”
I hum. “A little taste of your own medicine. See how much you like it.”
She purses her pretty pink lips. When I nudge the jar toward her, she asks, “What is that for?”
“It’s a swear jar. Anyone ever tell you that you curse too much?”
“Anyone ever tell you to go fuck?—”
“One dollar for every curse word,” I say to cut her off. “And another dollar every time you call me ‘BigDawg’.” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms, ignoring the middle button of her white blouse that has come undone. “Now you owe me four dollars.” I’m nothing short of smug when I say, “Pay up, buttercup.”
I don’t like her slowly widening grin, and I groan internally. What is she up to now?
She takes her time at her desk, bending over to grab her purse to rifle through it. I make a concerted effort to stare out the window instead of her perky backside, the slit at the back of her skirt giving me a sweet peek between her legs. I clamp my lips shut so I don’t say something stupid and worthy of being fired, like,“Look who’s bending over for me now.”Doesn’t stop me from thinking it. Would she even be able to take a man my size?Fucking hell, Forest, get your act together and stop slobbering all over your much-too-young employee.At this rate, with Autumn driving up my blood pressure like she does her father’s, I’m going to end up quitting by the end of the month, if not sooner.
“One…” she counts, pulling a dollar bill from the thin stack of cash in her hand, drawing my gaze back to her as she approaches my desk. “Two, three, four, and five.” She folds the cash and stuffs it in the jar.
“Why—”
“Consider that my payment in advance, BigDawg. Oops.” She frowns, then perks up. “Wait. I think I have…” She reaches into a tiny pocket on the side of her skirt and produces a five-dollar bill. “Yes!” She waves it in my face before shoving itinto the jar with a wink. “I just bought myself five more.” She spins, flips her hair back over her shoulder, and sits primly at her desk, staring at me like a demented doll with those unsettling eyes of hers.
“Your eyes are so damn creepy when you do that.”
