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She’s got a huge backpack slung over her shoulder, and I watch as the wind blows her skirt up and she has to hold her dress down with one hand. Come on wind, pick up.
I can’t take my eyes off of her. She squints at the cards that the tour guides are holding up. Her eyes freeze on my sign, and then she smiles up at me.
Well, fuck me, looks like it’s my lucky day after all. I give her a nod and a wide grin as she walks toward me. As she gets closer, I realize how small she is. She barely comes up to my chin, even with the lift she’s getting from those sexy boots.
“Hi, I’m Tabitha.”
“Gunner Steel.” I hold out my hand to her. When her skin touches mine, a wave of heat rushes through my body, stirring my already wide awake cock. Her hand is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something because I’ve touched just about every type of fur there is. None of it compares to her.
“Gunner Steel? Is that really your name?” Her green eyes shine at me.
“Yes, ma’am, it is.”
She giggles a little, and I’m pretty sure it’s the cutest sound I’ve ever heard. “Well, nice to meet you. I thought Alicia would be picking me up.”
“A federal inspector was coming by, so she had to stay at the base camp today.” I reach up and take her bag off her shoulder. My thumb rubs against her bare skin and I find myself wanting to kiss the spot where my thumb just was. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a woman, and this one is exactly the type I like.
And then it hits me like a kick to the balls. I’m going to have to spend the next twenty-one days trying not to make a pass at her. Son of a bitch. I sling the bag over my shoulder and tell myself this is the closest we’re going to get, no matter how much my dick sits up and begs.
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My Toy Boy-Sneak Peek
One
Janey
Drip coffee makers, espresso machines, and French presses. My head is full of coffee brewing facts. My nose is full of the bitter but robust scent of perfectly roasted beans. Earlier this morning, I sat in the local Starbucks and consumed several options. Enough coffee to make me shake like a crack whore in need of a fix. Maybe the espresso on top of the black and white was too much.
I pace my gray linoleum kitchen floor waiting for my phone to ring and wondering if the floor was always gray or had it once been white but after years of abuse had faded?
My phone rings and I jump several inches into the air. It vibrates to the end of the card table before it takes a triple flip off the edge. I dive to save it mid-air.
“Hello.” My normally calm and even-toned voice morphs into a two pack a day smoker with a case of bronchitis. I cough to hack up the hairball or frog that’s lodged in my throat. “This is Janey.”
“Hello, Janey,” A deep thick espresso voice filters through the line. “This is Caine Stark from the Grynd.” There’s a shuffle of papers in the background and a muffled announcement. “I’ve got to make this quick.” His chuckle is low and rumbling. “Fast isn’t generally my style, not something I’d brag about, but I’m about to board a plane back to the United States.”
“I understand.” Although my pulse is double-shot hyper, m
y heart sinks a little because a fast interview means he’s going through the motions and has probably already chosen a person for the position. Rather than waste the opportunity, I decide to use this experience as a way to better my interviewing skills so the next chance I get to impress an interviewer, I’ll be relaxed and prepared.
Sadly, I know more about coffee than the average person at this point. It’s not like it’s going to serve me any purpose unless it’s trivia night and the subject is java, or Starbucks puts a ‘now hiring’ sign in their window. I may not be able to make a vanilla bean soy latte but I can tell you where the bean is harvested, how it’s roasted, and this year’s yield.
He breaks my rambling thoughts with a question—my first question.
“I assume you’re familiar with the product?”
This is where I’m going to excel. I’m tempted to blurt out everything I know in one long run-on sentence but I wait. “Of course. The Grind is the perfect product for me.” I wanted to sound knowledgeable, but not in the way that would tell him I spent the entire week memorizing their inventory. Their store locations. Their employee handbook.
He clears his throat. “So, you use our product?”
I laugh. “Yes, regularly. In fact your product starts every one of my mornings. Sometimes, I need it several times a day. You never know when you’re going to need that extra pick me up.”
Silence fills the space and I wonder if we’ve been disconnected. But that smooth dark chocolate drips over me. “I agree. I’m told our best-selling products have the perfect amount of buzz.”
“It must be true since everyone I know uses your product. I haven’t met a person who’s disappointed with the quality. You know it’s good when you feel it all day.”
“Wow, that is good.” A slow low chuckle begins and ends abruptly. “The position is for a quality control representative. Which means you’d have to…”
