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It tells me soon. Soon she’ll be mine.
“You’re trying to fatten me up,” she playfully scolds me, eyeing the food I serve up for her. Shivering a little, she asks if she can wear my robe again.
I’d prefer it if she was on my lap so I could keep her warm, but that wouldn’t lead to anything productive.
I drape my robe around her shoulders and sit across from her so I can watch her eat while I do.
My phone pings from the countertop, but it can wait.
Her own chimes soon after, and checking her messages she lets out a groan of disappointment.
“Asshole,” she mumbles, causing my brow to lift as I catch another example of her feisty side.
“Landlord?” I ask, but no.
“Sawyer,” she says, rolling her eyes. “He wants me in earlier… and has made a point of saying you won’t be working the front tonight.”
I don’t like my meals being interrupted, but I figure my phone going off a moment before hers is the man himself texting me, and it is.
I punch ‘call’.
I’ve got no time for games, and anything he has to say he can say over the phone or to my face.
I give Becky a little wink, urging her to eat up and not let some prick ruin our meal together.
Sawyer answers swiftly and gets straight to the point.
“I need you here an hour earlier, Dillon. Special night. You’ll also be in the back tonight. A little bird tells me you and the barmaid Becky have been too friendly—”
I don’t like it, but if I’m gonna be working the back rooms instead of the front, I should have a better chance to hatch a plan.
Expose this Charlie Sawyer for the crook he is, and net as many other rotten apples as I can along the way.
That should win a brownie point or two with the judge.
Or will it?
Only one way to find out, I reason. Remembering my old employee Chad’s advice.
I go along with his instructions, making Becky crease a frown before I hang up.
“I’ll be right there,” I remind her. “Taking you there and bringing you back home,” I add.
And every other day from now on.
She smiles. A real smile this time, telling me she’s so glad she met me. Gladder still I’ve rescued her.
“But it sounds like you have a plan.” She pauses. “And not just getting me between your sheets.”
The concept always makes me smile, and I remind her that even though I’m winging it where Sawyer and his Gentleman’s club are concerned, there’s no doubt in my mind when it comes to her.
The thought pleases her visibly, and she flushes red. Insisting she can at least do the dishes and tidy up for us, I let her do her thing and go to check on her clothes.
A few more moments alone with her underwear is as close as I’m getting this afternoon, it seems. More than enough to keep me going through the day though.
A sleepless night watching over her leaving me feeling more than invigorated to deal with the day ahead.
Chapter Seventeen
Dillon
Seeing Becky dressed in her barmaid uniform again lets me know how temporary our jobs are, for us both. I don’t want to get her hopes up before I have a plan, but she won’t be pulling beers for much longer.
Mark my words.
She cheers up once we head out to get the rest of her things, the neighborhood we pull into resembling more of that greasy paper sack she almost ate out of for the last time yesterday.
I feel bitter about it, but I’ve known rougher streets in my life.
I only wish I’d found her sooner.
“You asked me to remind you, so here goes…” she says. “Try not to lose your cool with my ex-landlord, okay,” she pleads, wincing a little but making me chuckle. Lightening my somber mood.
She’ll only know a better world soon enough, and to my surprise, I even keep my cool dealing with the landlord.
He shrinks back once he throws his door open, I’m twice the man he ever was, and his eyes dart from me to Becky in horror.
“Hired someone to come frighten me, eh?” he snarls, but I laugh, reaching for my billfold.
“Not at all. Not at all,” I reassure him, asking how much she’s owed and how long we might have to claim the rest of Becky’s stuff.
“Oh. And a receipt,” I add. “My accountant, he’s such a stickler for those things,” I grin. Picturing my fist punching through the man’s face, but really only wanting to get Becky away from all this nonsense.
It’s a small price to pay, a few hundred bucks. And the guy begrudgingly hands over the key, snarling again that we’d better have everything out within a few hours.
No fucking problem, buddy.
No girl of mine is spending a minute in a place like this let alone live in it.
