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I looked up at the sound of Hank’s voice as Drake’s form towered over me.
“Hey,” Drake said, sounding uninterested in the whole thing.
I stood up and offered my hand to him as his eyes raked up and down my form. I held my head up high, waiting for him to shake my hand. I wasn’t going to allow this man to reduce me to a piece of meat, nor was I going to allow his piercing gaze to weaken my knees.
Though as I watched him up close, I could definitely see why women were attracted to him.
I shook the thought from my mind as Drake finally took my outstretched hand. The worst thing I could’ve done was allo
w my hand to drop. Getting him to shake my hand, no matter how long I held it there, established dominance. It was a small step, but it was a step in the right direction. Drake following my lead instead of me following his.
I watched a grin tick Hank’s cheek. He knew what I had done, even if Drake was still trying to dismiss me.
“Be there at six in the morning tomorrow. We start early,” Drake said.
He dropped my hand and walked away as my eyes glanced toward Hank.
“He means his ranch. The address is in here. Read it through and sign the NDA. I can’t leave without it.”
I took the document and flipped through the pages, scanning the lines as quickly as I could. It looked like a basic enough non-disclosure agreement, so I signed and initialed where I needed to. I tore off the bottom of the paper that had everyone’s contact information on it; Drake’s cell number, the address to his ranch, and Hank’s cell phone number and email.
“Good luck,” Hank said, as I handed him the papers.
“Will you be there in the morning as well?” I asked.
“Nope. I’m going to take a well-deserved break from babysitting. This is your show now.”
After tilting his head toward me and bidding me a quick farewell, he scurried off in the direction of the elevator. This was going to be a bumpy ride, but it was one I was buckled in and ready for.
Drake Blackthorn wasn’t going know what hit him.
CHAPTER 5
Drake
The bourbon swirled with my coffee as I screwed the flask tight. I was still pissed that Hank hired me a fucking babysitter. I may have gotten my pick, but it was like picking the best from the worst. That was what this woman was. A glorified fucking babysitter to help get me from Point A to Point B. I didn’t need shit like that. I was a grown ass man.
Hank could call this woman whatever the hell he wanted, but she was nothing but a babysitter, and I was going to make damn sure she’d want to quite. No matter how pretty she was, no woman was running my life. No one could run my life better than I saw fit. I’d only allowed one woman to have any level of control over me and she was gone. I’d been the man of this damn house for years, taking care of my sister and running the ranch when I wasn’t on tour. No one knew my fucking life, or the shit I went through just to keep the people I cared about afloat. Fucking tabloids could paint me however they wanted to.
But if they walked a half a mile in my fucking boots, they’d be dead in the water.
As I sat there, downing my coffee and bourbon, I hoped she wouldn’t show. I hoped she couldn’t find the place or got a fucking flat tire and was late. If she was late for her first day of work, I could tell Hank, and she’d be fired. He didn’t tolerate that bullshit.
I knew. He’d lectured me over it a million times.
I sighed as I heard a car pull up in the driveway. I brought out my flask, bypassing the coffee as I took another swig. The clock on the microwave read five-fifty-eight as a door slammed shut.
Fuck. She was one of those annoying people who was always early.
Pulling my ball cap low over my head, I pushed up from the kitchen table. The last thing I needed was some prim and proper woman clopping her heels through my damn house. Elsie was still sleeping, and Tammy hadn’t gotten up to fix breakfast yet. I was still exhausted from the meltdown Elsie had last night over the thunderstorm that had rolled through. Though I’d set her up in her own apartment close by to help her exercise her independence, she refused to stay there during the storm, and she and Tammy had both ended up staying the night.
Making my way out toward the porch, I shut the door behind me. I saw the girl get out of a truck, stepping onto the pavement. She was dressed in a pair of boots, jeans, and a plain t-shirt. Her hair was up in a bun, and she had sunglasses on the top of her head. She looked different than she had yesterday. No heels or a skirt. No makeup or a nice blouse.
It suited her.
Her jeans molded to every single part of her; the light curve of her hips, the slenderness of her legs. Her boots were scuffed, worn down and broken in from years of wear and tear. She turned around and shut the door of her rusty truck, her tiny little ass perfectly rounded.
Goddammit! Stop checking her out.
