“Don’t worry about that; just get another one. There’s plenty out there.” I motion to the rest of the office. “Just don’t get any ideas about running away before you’re done. I know your name, Ainsley Andrews.”
“I won’t run away…” She blinks a couple of times and then leaves to get another trash can.
I didn’t really get a good look at Ainsley when she approached me outside. I was too focused on getting back to the bar. I certainly noticed those long legs—mainly because her skirt was too short to hide more than a few inches of them. She’s pretty as hell. Fuck, she’s downright gorgeous. I can tell that even with all the zombie makeup running down her face.
I haven’t given a woman more than a side-eyed glance since my divorce, but the sight of Ainsley bent over in that skirt is enough to start a motor I thought had been permanently shut down. She has curves that would make a zombie come back to life to get a better look at them.
I find myself somewhat entranced as I watch her continue to clean up my office. She bends over right in front of me to pick up some debris that went under my desk, and her skirt rides up a little more—enough for me to see that she’s wearing pink panties with something written across the back of them, but I can’t make it out.
“I think I need a broom.” Ainsley turns toward, me, and I break my gaze before she catches me staring at her ass.
“There might be one in the janitor’s closet.” I put down my drink and stand up. “I’ll be right back.”
My eyes aren’t the only thing that noticed Ainsley’s gorgeous curves. My cock isn’t fully hard, but it’s trying to get there. I brush past her and adjust the front of my pants once I’m on the other side of the door.
Fuck, maybe I’m not as dead inside as I thought.
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing right now.
Chapter Five
Ainsley
Sarah’s plan was a bad one from the start. I shouldn’t be surprised that we got caught. I was moments away from wearing handcuffs for the second time in less than a week. I don’t know why Lawson changed his mind, but I’m grateful that he did. Cleaning up the mess we made is a small price to pay not to have to make that call to my mother.
I don’t even know how I would explain it.
“Okay, I found a broom and a dustpan.” Lawson hands them to me. “Maybe that will help…”
“Thank you.” I take them and begin sweeping up the broken glass.
Sarah said Lawson is an asshole. I don’t think that’s true. He appears to be rather rough around the edges, but I see a kindness in him. He could have called the cops and had me arrested. That would have been justified. I certainly deserved it.
There has to be a reason for that permanent scowl; it’s almost like he’s been damaged in some way and carries just as much self-loathing as I do.
“What should I do with this?” I pick up the photograph of the woman that I assume is his daughter with her new husband. The broken glass has damaged it so bad that I can’t even make out their faces anymore.
“Just throw it away. I’m sure Kiana has plenty to spare…” He takes a sip of his drink and motions to the trash can.
“Is she your daughter?” I hold it for a moment and then drop it in the trash can.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Happiest day of her life.”
The way he says it makes it sound like it wasn’t the happiest day of his life.
“Do you not like her husband?” I sweep a little bit more of the broken glass into the dustpan.
“How could I not like hi
m? He saved her life—he was there for her when I wasn’t…” He shakes his head, and I see sadness in his eyes.
There is more to the story, but I don’t press for details. I can tell it is a sensitive subject, and it isn’t my business.
“These seem to be okay.” I pick up a few of his certificates. “Where would you like me to put them?”
“Back on the damn wall where they were,” he growls his response. “Obviously, you can’t do that since you broke all my frames.”
“No, sir.” I look down at them.