When he's out of sight, Amos softens a bit as he steps closer to me. Close enough that his delicious cologne threatens to wreak havoc on my cognitive abilities. "Does he always do this?"
I grimace. "Yes. Well, almost every time."
"Mercy," he chides, "I want you to tell me if this ever happens again. You shouldn't have to put up with this from other men."
"Tellyou? But...you're retiring."Andothermen? As opposed to justoneman?
A muttered curse flies from his mouth. "I mean, you can tell Garrick. Tell Eliza, even, but don't feel like you have to listen to any of that. He needs to do his job and nothing else. Coming on to you is not part of his job. Neither is dealing with unwelcome attention part of yours. Especially from him."
My heart stutters a bit at his attention. Twice in one day. This is the most he's ever talked to me.
"Got 'emall. See you next week." Flynn keeps his head down and shuffles out the door, lugging the empty water bottles while Amos stands watchful guard with clenched fists.
"Dickwad," Amos mutters under his breath again as he stares daggers at the door. Giving me a cursory nod, he walks away, scent lingering in his wake. "See you later, Mercy."
I fall back against my chair in giddiness, a stupid smile stretching my lips as I greedily inhale before his essence goes away. Amos Shay stood up for me. Sure, it was only because someone was messing with his employee, but still.
Amos Shay.I hold his name quietly inside my heart and instead breathe out a sigh. Dreaming's free, right?
Chapter two
Amos
Istandinfrontof my office window, blood boiling as I watch that worthless excuse of a mandriveoff. He stood outside for a good ten minutes after he loaded up the water bottles, just trying to get another glimpse of Mercy through the lobby doors. I need a good kick in the ass for not realizing how uncomfortable he's been making her, but today was the first time I saw him in action. He'd taken over our regular guy's route about two months ago, but I had no idea he was hitting on her.
As if my sweet kitten would ever lower herself to the likes of him.I don't deserve her any more than he does. But what separates a harmless worm like Flynn Woodrow from a man like me is that I take what I want. While he might stand there and crudely flirt with her, that's about the extent of it. With me... Well, nothing stands in my way in business, and nothing will stand in the way of me getting Mercy.
Not the constraints of society.
Not even the woman herself.
A normal man would pursue her in the expected method. Flowers. Chocolate. A lukewarm kiss on the cheek at the end of a lackluster date.
A normal man would also takenofor an answer if a woman politely rejected him. I've seen it happen with Mercy, the way she casually declines invitations to do things. Like she did with the offer to go to Midnight Blues.
If she won't accept a simple invitation for social interaction, why would she accept a date?
But I'm not just any man. I'm a Shay. I won't give her the chance to tell meno.
I'm not ashamed to admit part of the appeal is Mercy's vulnerability. Her shyness. Does it make me a predator to be turned on by that? Maybe. Isn't that the circle of life, though? There's always an alpha at the top of the food chain, and in this neck of the woods, it's me.
Sometimes good things come to those who wait, but sometimes good things are taken.
Claimed.
Claimed in the way the Shay men have been doing for generations. As my father did with my mother, and his father before him, and so on. When a Shay sees the woman meant just for him, she becomes his, whether she knows it or not. And if she’s, shall we say...hesitant, a Shay is always too happy to persuade her.
In these modern times, though, it’s a bit difficult to plan our courtship. Social media, cell phones, security cameras... All the latest wonders of technology hinder our ability to elope with our women. Not to mention bribing a judge to officiate a wedding with an unwilling bride is next to impossible.
My dad had it easy in that respect. He caught my mom and didn't hesitate to immediately lock her down in holy matrimony when he brought her home to me. A wry smile forms when I think of all the marriages Judge Peterson performed for us Shays over the years before he passed on. Too many to count, really.
Those types of weddings died out when he did, though. The judge we had as backup wasn't as eager to blur the lines as his predecessor was when push came to shove, even for the money he was offered.
No, the good old boys and the good old days are long gone. Now we have to woo our women thoroughly before marriage. Not that it's a hardship, because I'm extremely looking forward towooingmy Mercy.
I've been with my fair share of women over the years, treated them nicely and let them go. Never felt the urge to claim them, though. None of them called to me the way Mercy does.
Now it's time to take her.
