One to Love (One to Hold 4)

“I’ll bring you receipts and return the difference.”

Rook exhaled loudly. “Can’t you just take it and say thanks?”

“I’m no charity case.”

“Right.” His eyes narrowed. “And you’re still on probation here. Use whatever’s left to buy a new pair of jeans and eat something. I don’t want members thinking I hire vagrants.”

I started to reply, but he cut me off. “Do it, or you’re fired. And don’t leave without cleaning the locker rooms. I expect you on the road by ten.”

A quick glance at the clock said I had three hours. I’d be on the road in two.

* * *

My old Ford managed the highway better than I expected. The mechanic who sold it to me was pretty scuzzy, but he guaranteed the engine checked out. Looked like he was honest. I made it to Gym Supply in four hours without any issues other than road fatigue.

The girl at the counter directed me around to the dock. She was a petite redhead in jeans and a maroon tee with Gym Supply across the front in white. “Yeah, we got your order.” She flipped pages back and forth on a loaded clipboard. “This driver’s strike has us all fucked up.”

“Driver’s strike?” I didn’t like the sound of that. I wasn’t looking to cross any picket lines. Shit.

Reading my expression, she quickly added. “It’s not our guys, it’s a union thing. We’re not in the loop, but our drivers are taking off to help where they’re striking. Lou won’t stop ‘em, but it’s fucking up everything.” Brown eyes flickered across my shoulders. “Looks like you can load it yourself. I’m Paige, by the way.”

She checked me out, allowing her eyes to linger as they drifted below my beltline. I couldn’t help feeling that white-hot singe of desire. She was a pretty girl with a nice rack, and I hadn’t been laid in ages. The heat rose to my chest, the old opportunistic urge. I was sure Paige knew where we could go, unwrap those gorgeous tits, shimmy down those jeans. I’d wrap that red hair around my fist and give her the ride of her life. From the look of her, it wouldn’t take much to have her screaming my name.

Clearing my throat, I stepped back. “Yeah, I can handle it.”

“Follow me, then.” She led the way, and I looked around, distracting my mind from the bounce of her round ass. Shit. “Here’s the order. If you pull your truck around, you can use the dolly.”

She stood waiting, eyebrow cocked at me. The hint of a smile was on her lips. Several cardboard boxes were wrapped together with plastic. I wasn’t sure they would all fit, but I hadn’t known what to expect.

“You got a canvas or something I can use to cover it? We can send it back with our next delivery.”

“Help yourself to whatever you see.” She put one hand on her hip, as if that included her.

Holding my eyes away, I nodded. That wasn’t me anymore. I’d buried that part of myself along with the guy I used to be. “Thanks. I’ll be back to load up in the morning.”

This was an overnight delivery trip, not a one-night stand, although I couldn’t help glancing back. She stood there on the dock, hand on her hip, that little grin on her mouth. Lust was blazing in her eyes, hitting me straight in the gut.

When I was starving, it was easy to focus on food. Now that I was eating somewhat regularly, that old, primal hunger gnawed at my insides. From the dark recesses of my past, the feel of my cheek against the soft curve of a full breast flashed like lightening. I remembered holding lush handfuls, heavy between my fingers... My mouth clamping down hard on a tight nipple.

With a growl, I shook my head, climbing into the cab and starting the engine. I wasn’t doing any of that, and I wasn’t fucking up this job. I’d return in the morning to bust my ass hauling boxes, forget these stupid memories, and then head back to Toms River.

* * *

Early Tuesday afternoon I rolled into the Jungle Gym lot. Rook had given me the key, and I went around to unload right at the garage. Moving a load of heavy boxes, driving four hours, and moving them all again had me exhausted and ready to call it a day.

Truck empty, I headed to Wal-Mart to find a pair of jeans. If this money was an advance on my paycheck, I might as well use it to get a few new shirts and a little more to eat.

Dinner was half a rotisserie chicken. I could’ve eaten the whole buttery, greasy bird, but I wasn’t flush yet. I’d save the other half for tomorrow’s dinner. In the freezer was a package of pulled pork and some cheap ground beef. A supply of buns, mustard, and cheese, and I’d make it to payday. My one splurge was a burner phone and the cheapest package of minutes—just for emergencies.

Showered and with my belly full, I stretched. My muscles ached in a good way from exertion they hadn’t felt in months, and I picked up the giant paperback I’d been reading. Even if it was pretty dry, I’d started to care what would happen next to the French kid.

I read for almost an hour, but my skin itched, and my chest burned. That fucking hunger was back, and none of Doc’s mantras made it go away. What I felt was deeper than that. Time for Plan B—a walk on the shore. Hopefully, the wind and the waves and the fresh salt air would clear my head.

At the water’s edge, I turned north, moving fast. Longing roiled deep in my stomach, and my pace quickened. Closing my eyes, I was surrounded by a curtain of dark hair, and slim hands kneading the muscles in my shoulders. Soft lips feathered my ear with husky whimpers begging for more, and I stopped walking. I pushed my hands against my head, growling deep, but it didn’t stop the faceless memories tormenting me. I remembered warm thighs circling my waist, and the squeeze of a hot, wet opening pulsing around my dick.

“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath. I pulled off my shirt and shoved my shorts down, stepping out of them and running straight into the water. It was ice cold as I dropped to my knees, plunging my head under the surface and holding my breath until those tormenting memories drowned in the heat of my wake.

Control came seeping back with the bitter cold making its way to my bones, and I waded to shore. Dripping wet, I went to where I’d left my clothes. I was at a pretty deserted section of beach, although I could see in the distance, maybe a half-mile away, one of those bars that fronted on the ocean. Rubbing my hands fast over my torso, I managed to get most of the water off me before stepping into my shorts. I held my shirt for a few minutes, letting the air dry my body a bit longer.