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Mrs. Sweeney and Mrs. Durkman agree immediately.
Mr. Durkman narrows his eyes behind his glasses. “What are you cooking?”
“Whatever it is, we all know you’re going to eat it,” Sean says. “You’re responsible for dessert, so make it a good one.”
A grin creeps over Mr. Durkman’s lips for the first time tonight. “I’ll agree to that.”
Sean turns to look at me. “Are you in, Calliope? All you need to bring is that winning smile.”
I gaze around the table. I don’t know how I became a member of this dinner club, but it can’t hurt to get to know my temporary neighbors better.
Although, the idea of getting to know Sean better is as exciting as it is terrifying.
“I’m in,” I whisper. “I’ll be there.”
Chapter Twelve
Sean
When I conjuredup the idea of giving my neighbor a ride to work every day, I forgot about the ass factor.
As in her perfect peach-shaped, lush ass.
Calliope is wearing a fitted pink dress today, and fuck me, that ass is making me feel all kinds of things.
It’s mostly my cock feeling things as the bastard decided to harden as soon as I looked through the peephole in my apartment door and caught a glimpse of Champ’s ass as she made her way to the elevator.
I should have sprinted after her to get on the lift too, but I needed to calm my dick down before I came face-to-face with my newest employee.
I’m in the midst of that now as I step in place next to where she’s waiting on the sidewalk in front of our building.
“Good morning, Calliope,” I say gruffly.
Her eyes snake up my dark blue suit and gray tie to my face. “Good morning, Mr. Wells.”
Is that how it’s going to be?
As much as I enjoy being called that, we’re not just two people who work together. We’re neighbors, and I don’t want to draw a line in the sand on when she can or can’t call me by my first name.
“Call me Sean,” I tell her with a smile.
“All right,” she says hesitantly. “Should I be calling your brother Mr. Wells?”
She should call him Decky because his head would explode, but my brother and I agreed to respect one another at the office, or at least attempt to.
“Declan is fine,” I say as I glance over her head to the approaching traffic.
“Declan,” she repeats softly. “Got it.”
I take a step forward when I notice my black SUV approaching. The driver, Jurgen, raises a hand off the steering wheel in greeting. I offer him a nod in response.
Calliope glances at me. “This is your ride?”
“Our ride,” I correct her. “The length of my work day varies, but Jurgen will be available to drive you home each day at six. I can’t say for certain if I’ll be along for that ride on any given day.”
As Jurgen gets out and rounds the car, Calliope steps forward. “I appreciate that, but I won’t always come straight home from work each day. Sometimes, like today, I have plans.”
I watch her ass as she climbs into the back seat of the vehicle.
