Landon (In Safe Hands Book 1) (4 page)

I
barely hear Zoe knock on the door. Damn, it’s been an hour already? “You don’t
have to knock. The door will be unlocked,” I tell her as I let her in.

“Okay.”

“Did
you get your car out of the shop?”

She
shakes her head, her ponytail swishing from side to side. “It’ll be a few days,
but that doesn’t mean you need to drive me home. A cab is fine.” There’s no
point in arguing with her now. “Would you still like me to start in the
kitchen?”

“Please.
And I’ll be in the garage if you need anything.”

“I’ll
be fine,” she calls, already headed to the kitchen. Damn, do I stink? She
couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

The
next time I look up from working on the truck, the sun has set, and I open the
garage door, letting in a rush of fresh night air. With the truck windows down,
it should air out nicely. Now, if only it’ll start. It fires right up and
manages to make it just outside the garage door before dying again. Damn it.

A
quick look under the hood and I know I need to make a trip to the automotive
store. Zoe peeks up at me when I poke my head into the kitchen. Fuck me, she’s
on her knees. Her red lips part as she gazes up at me, and every word I was
about to speak flies out of my head.

“Landon?
You need something?”

Oh,
fuck do I, but nothing I can accept from her. “I’m heading out for a bit to run
a few errands.”

“No
problem.” She turns back to scrubbing the fridge. An assortment of groceries
are stacked around the kitchen. “By the way, most of your food is expired.
Like, die if you eat it expired.”

“Throw
it out. I’ll restock later.”

“Will
do.”

Her
shirt rises as she reaches toward the back of the fridge, baring a small strip
of skin on her lower back. What I’d give to lick it. I have to get out of here.

Luckily,
the auto store has a fuel filter that’ll fit and the right spark plugs. It’s
after eight when I’m on my way home and I wonder if Zoe’s had dinner yet. I
have no idea what she likes to eat, but pizza seems like a safe bet. Who
doesn’t like pizza? A few minutes later, I walk through the door with two
pizzas and a two liter of Dr. Pepper.

Zoe
is scrubbing out a cabinet, and she pauses when I enter, watching me place the
food on the table. “You should get some liners for your cabinets, or contact
paper. It’d be easier to keep them clean.”

“Sure
thing.” What the hell is contact paper? I’ll just have her get the supplies she
needs before coming to work tomorrow.

“Take
a break and let’s eat. Do you like pizza?”

A
grin curls her lips. “Sounds better than peanut butter. Give me a minute to
wash up. Can I use your bathroom?”

“You
don’t have to ask. Use whatever you need when you’re here.” I pull a pack of
paper plates from the cabinet and dish up our pizza. Zoe returns and grabs two
glasses, filling them with ice before handing them to me to pour the soda. It’s
all disturbingly domestic.

We
eat in silence, with an occasional glance across the table, until I can’t take
it anymore. “Good?”

“Yep.
I love pizza. Don’t think I’ll ever outgrow it.”

“You
shouldn’t. It’s one of the four food groups.”

Giggling,
she shakes her head. “I’m afraid to ask what the others are.”

“Bacon,
Donuts, and Beer.”

“Of
course.”

She’s
in a good mood tonight, not so guarded or suspicious around me, so I risk a
question. “Who’s the boy at your apartment?”

“My
brother, Ethan.”

“Do
you live with your parents?”

Her
face hardens. “No, it’s just us.”

“Sorry.
I lost my parents too. Car crash.”

Sympathy
fills her eyes. “I’m sorry. Was it long ago?”

“Six
years. How long has it been for you?”

She
averts her eyes as she replies, “We haven’t seen them in almost two years.”

They
haven’t seen them? They aren’t dead, just estranged. I want to ask a thousand
questions, the first of which is how she ended up raising her brother, but the
look on her face stops me. She doesn’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want
to upset her.

“So,
what the hell is contact paper?” I ask, changing the subject. Musical laughter
fills the room, and the sound soothes something deep inside me.

After
dinner, she goes back to work, and I change the fuel filter and spark plugs on
the truck. About a half hour before she’s supposed to leave, I finally get it
running smoothly. Now, I have to talk her into taking it home. Since she’s
loath to even accept a ride from me, this should be a challenge.

“Are
you insane? I’m not taking your truck. You barely know me. What if I crash it?”

“Then
I’ll get it fixed.” I shrug. She opens her mouth to protest again, and I
interrupt her. “Look, it’s not just for your benefit. Running errands is part
of your job, and I need you to go to the grocery store tomorrow. And to get
some of that contact paper…and whatever else I need for the kitchen, but won’t
recognize because I don’t have a vagina.”

With
a reluctant smile, she shakes her head. “Well, that was only mildly sexist and
offensive.”

“Please,
just don’t bring back anything pink.”

“Fine,”
she relents with a sigh. “Make me a list for the grocery store. I’ll take the
truck for tonight, but that’s it.”

“Are
you always so stubborn?”

“Yep.
You’ve been warned.”

* * * *

Warned.
I keep trying to warn myself. Remind myself that I can’t fuck a woman that will
be at my house every day. And there’s no way I’m going to let her quit this job
she needs so much because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants. I need to spend
less time around her. Fortunately, Dare calls the next afternoon and asks me to
go to the bar with him and the guys. Perfect.

Zoe
struggles through the door with an armload of bags, spreading them out on the
counter. I catch the dirty look she throws when I don’t go outside to assist
her, and I do my best to ignore it. “This is contact paper,” she says, tossing
me a roll of tan colored paper. “I’ll line the cabinets with it tonight.”

“Sounds
good. I’ll be leaving this evening for the night. If you get done with the
kitchen, please dust and sweep the living room.”

“Okay.”

I
drop a key on the counter. “Lock up when you leave and take the truck home
tonight.”

“I
appreciate the gesture, but I have a friend picking me up.”

She
is not a good liar. “At midnight?”

“You
aren’t the only night owl in the city, you know.” Fine. Let her take the damn
cab. I shouldn’t care anyway.

“Suit
yourself. I’ll leave you to it.”

I
don’t know why it annoys the shit out of me that she won’t let me help her, but
it does. It shows me again that I’m spending too much time with her. A night
out is exactly what I need. A few drinks, a game or two of pool, and a hot
woman to fuck away my stress.

Dare
and Jeremy meet me at a bar near Dare’s apartment. It’s a decent place with a
large room full of pool tables in the back. A cute waitress brings us all a
beer and a shot while Jeremy racks up for the first game.

“Who’s
getting his ass kicked first?” Jeremy taunts.

“I’ve
got first,” Dare replies, grabbing a cue. “Justus will be here in a few and you
can teach him a lesson,” he says to me.

“As
long as he doesn’t show up in his little stripper clothes.”

Dare
laughs. “I think he’s off tonight. So, how are things going with that sexy
little maid of yours? You fuck her yet?”

“You’re
fucking your maid?” Jeremy asks as the waitress returns with our drinks.

“No,
assholes. I haven’t touched her, and I’m not going to. And neither are you,” I
tell Dare as a smile spreads across his face. The waitress laughs and bats her
eyes at me. She’s a cute little thing. Petite with big brown eyes. Turning to
her, I give her a crooked smile. “What’s your name, baby?”

“Trisha,”
she giggles.

“Well,
tell these two that sleeping with an employee is a huge mistake.”

“Probably
not a good idea,” she agrees, laying a hand on my arm.

“Good
thing you don’t work for me. What time do you get off tonight?”

“Depends
on how good you are, doesn’t it?”

And
it’s just that easy. Or she is. “I’m way beyond good, lady.”

“I’m
off at eleven-thirty.”

“I’ll
be here.” She smiles from ear to ear and sashays off, swinging her hips.

“Well,
that took all of five minutes,” Justus laughs. I hadn’t even noticed him
approach behind me.

“And
I didn’t even have to strip and shake my ass.”

“You’re
just jealous that women pay to touch me.”

“Just
rack them up, Magic Mike.”

We
spend the next few hours playing pool, drinking, and fucking around. Trisha
comes by every chance she gets to flirt and rub against me until the clock
finally reaches half past eleven. “Your place?” she suggests.

“Sure,
you drive. I’ve had a few.”

“No
problem.”

Zoe

Relief
floods through me when Landon leaves for the night. I shouldn’t feel that way.
He’s been so nice to me, loaning me the truck and everything, but I see how he
looks at me. Why does he have to be so damn gorgeous? Any other man, I could
put in his place, but when he smiles that crooked smile, I feel like a horny
sixteen year old with a crush.

I
need this job and there’s no way I’m going to screw it up by sleeping with him.
Judging by the way he came onto me in the bar when we first met, he’s not a
stranger to one night stands. Even if I could work with him after a nice sweaty
naked hug, he would find a reason to get rid of me. So there you have it. No
sex with the ocean-eyed man slut.

The
night passes quickly as I finish cleaning his kitchen and move on to the living
room. It’s not too bad, mostly just dusty, as he said. By the time I’ve wiped
down all the surfaces and vacuumed the carpet, it’s time to go.

I
know he saw through my lie earlier. There’s no friend picking me up, but I can’t
keep relying on him for transportation, and there’s no reason I can’t catch a
cab. Twenty minutes after I call, the taxi pulls up out front and I lock the
door behind me, tucking the house key in my pocket.

After
a day at school and work, I’m dead on my feet. I can’t wait to take a long hot
shower and wash away the dust and grime. That is until I see the note Ethan
left me on the bathroom mirror.

Hot
water’s out. Called maintenance. Said they’ll get to it.

Crumpling
the note in my hand, I utter a few choice words about our landlords. We need a
new water heater. This is the third time we’ve had to call them and they aren’t
quick to
get to it.
The giant kettle we use to heat water is sitting on
the stove and a lump rises in my throat. Ethan is just a kid. He shouldn’t have
to live like this. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to get ahead, to get
us out of this hellhole.

After
filling up the kettle, I fire up the burner and wait. Ethan’s door is open a
crack, so I peek in to see him sprawled in bed, playing on his phone. “It’s
late. You should be asleep.”

“I
don’t have to work tomorrow. I just plan on playing video games with the guys.”

“Have
fun. I know I haven’t been around much lately. Is everything okay? Do you need
anything?”

“Nope,
I’m good. And I don’t need my sister following me around and killing my game,”
he teases.

“Alright
then, pimp daddy. I’ll let you go to sleep.”

“Never
call me that again,” he laughs.

“I
won’t. Only when your friends are here.”

He
throws a pillow, and it smacks the door as I tug it closed. He’s such a good
kid. It kills me that I can’t give him the things he deserves. Like parents who
love him.

He
knew when he was twelve that he was gay, and I’m the only person he told.
Unfortunately, just after his fifteenth birthday, my mother searched his phone
and found text messages he sent to a boy he liked. It wasn’t anything dirty or
explicit, but it didn’t matter. They gave him the choice of going to a
conversion therapy camp where they try to torture the gay away, or leaving. I
picked him up and he’s been with me ever since.

Washing
my hair in cold water in the sink is miserable, but it beats shivering through
an icy shower. Toting my shampoo in the kitchen, I wash my hair as fast as humanly
possible. Still shivering, I drag the kettle of warm water into the bathroom,
strip down and stand in the tub. If I wanted to take the time, I could’ve
waited for a few kettles to boil and had enough for a bath, but I’m exhausted.
A quick scrub down will have to do.

Finally,
I’m dressed in my pajamas and curled up on the couch. One more day of work, and
I can veg out all weekend. A pile of mail awaits me on the coffee table, but I
don’t want to open it. It’s never good news, only bills and more bills. An
envelope from Ethan’s school catches my attention and I rip it open.

He
goes back in a week or so and I need to remember to take him to get some school
clothes and supplies. In the envelope is a signup sheet for a driver’s
education class. One semester for three hundred dollars. I know how bad he
wants to get his license, and I also know he’ll never ask, knowing how tight
our money is. Maybe I can come up with it by the second semester.

Exhausted
mentally and physically, I drag myself to bed, grateful I don’t have any
classes tomorrow. I can sleep in for a change.

The
sound of banging from the hallway wakes me a little after nine. “I let
maintenance in,” Ethan says, popping his head into my room. “And there are
donuts on the kitchen table.”

“You
realize I’m supposed to be the adult here, right?”

“Relax,
you get to go to work while I lie around, play games and eat chips. You’re the
adult today.”

“Good
to know.” I drag myself out of bed. “Hey!” I call as he retreats. “Save some
time for me tomorrow. We’ll hit the mall and get you some school supplies.”

“I
have to be seen in public with you?”

“If
you want new shit.”

“Tough
choice, but I guess I can suffer through.” He flashes me a smile. “Thanks.”

My
morning is spent straightening up the apartment and making a tuna casserole for
Ethan’s dinner. I’m just popping it in the fridge when Frannie calls and
invites me to lunch. Rowdy cries erupt from Ethan’s room where he and his
friends are glued to the game.

“Hell,
yes. Come and get me,” I tell her.

“How
did you get off work so early?” I ask as we take a seat at our favorite Italian
place. Frannie works as a receptionist in Indy’s hottest tattoo parlor.

“It’s
slow today, so Finn told me to go. Tomorrow and Sunday are booked up, so I’ll
more than make up for it. What’s up with you, girl? Haven’t heard from you in a
few days. Did you get that cleaning job?”

Scoffing,
I shake my head. “You’re never going to believe who was doing the hiring.”

“Who?”

“Remember
Landon from the bar?”

“Jeremy’s
friend?” she squeals. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope,
he inherited this huge house that apparently hasn’t been cleaned since it was
built, and he was looking for some help.”

“So,
did you take the job?”

Peeking
at her over my glass, I admit, “He offered me twelve an hour. I really couldn’t
say no.”

She
fans herself with the menu. “Why the hell would you want to say no? The guy is
hot as hell.”

“I’m
not screwing him!” I toss a napkin at her.

“Why
not?”

“Because
that would make me a whore. He’s paying me, remember?”

“So,
you make some extra tips,” she teases.

“What
about you? How was Jeremy?”

She
spreads her hands about eight inches apart. “And the girth of a damn Pringles
can.”

Laughing,
I dig into my plate of spaghetti before asking, “Are you going to see him
again?”

She
shrugs. “Doubt it. If he calls, I’ll give him another go, but I’m not
bothered.” Something in her tone is off. I wonder if she might actually like
this one. That is, until she starts flirting with the dark headed waiter.

“What?”
she asks when the guy walks away.

“Just
you,” I reply, smiling. “Don’t ever change.”

* * * *

The
repair shop calls an hour before I have to be at work. Just enough time for me
to take the bus there, grab my car and make it to Landon’s on time. A young guy
comes out of the garage when I approach, wiping his greasy hands on an equally
greasy rag. Bright blue eyes land on mine. “Zoe Page?”

“That’s
me.” And you are just too damn cute.

“She’s
running good, now. Come on in and we’ll settle up.” He flashes a wide smile and
his eyes run up and down my body before he leads the way inside. It’s possible
I took note of the way his ass filled out his blue work pants.

He
trades me the invoice for my check and hands me a business card. “My name’s
Jason. You call me if you have any problems.”

“Thank
you.”

“My
cell number is written on the back. Or I could call you,” he suggests with a
grin.

My
eyebrows climb my forehead as I try not to smile. “To see if I have any
problems? That’s some serious customer service.”

“Or
to take you out to dinner. Are you busy tomorrow night? You have the most
gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen.” His baby blues aren’t too shabby either.
Frannie’s advice runs through my head. Maybe I do need to get out. I can go out
and have fun, maybe even get laid without getting into a relationship, can’t I?
My life is just too complicated for a relationship right now, but some time with
bright eyes here might be just what I need.

“Thank
you. Dinner sounds like fun.”

“I
can pick you up at eight.”

“Sure.”
We spend a few minutes talking, working out the details, and I leave with a big
smile on my face. I’m actually looking forward to tomorrow night. I think I’ve
done okay holding things together, keeping us fed and a roof over our head
while still going to school, but it’s a daily struggle. It’ll be nice to have a
night away from it all where I can act like a normal twenty-three year old.

I
pull into Landon’s driveway right on time, and he’s just coming from the
bathroom, his hair soaked and a towel wrapped around his waist when I let
myself inside. Christ on a cracker, I forget how gorgeous he is. His usual
tight tee shirts show he’s built, but it’s nothing compared to seeing those
rippling muscles dripping wet and—fuck me—he’s got those v lines running down
his hips.

“Ahem…Zoe?”
I’m met by an insufferably smug smile when I glance up. Shit. How long was I
just standing there, lost in the fantasy of whipping that towel off and
climbing him like a jungle gym?

“Ummm…sorry,”
I mumble. “I let myself in.”

“Don’t
apologize. That’s why I gave you a key.”

“Right.”
With no thought about where I’m going, I turn and head into the living room.
“I’ll just let you get dressed.”

He
follows me and leans against the living room doorway. “It’s not like I’m naked.
The big guy is covered. Does this make you uncomfortable?”

His
smile taunts me and I can’t let him know it makes me feel way more than
uncomfortable. With a shrug, I make my way past him. “Hey, if the little fella
needs some air, it doesn’t bother me. I’ll start your laundry.”

“Little!”
he scoffs, following me again.

I
sort a load of colors into his machine. “Stop following me. And if you even
think of taking off the towel to prove me wrong, I’ll rub Deep Heat in every
pair of underwear you own.”

Laughing,
he shakes his head. “You wouldn’t.”

“Never
screw with someone who washes your clothes or handles your food.”

I
step back from the machine and into a solid wall of damp skin and muscle. Hot
breath flows across my neck as he murmurs, “Only one problem there, sweetheart.
I don’t wear underwear.” With a chuckle, he walks away, leaving me to try to
slow my heart rate back to normal.

Why
the hell does he affect me like that? I’ve been with good looking men before,
hell, I have a date with one tomorrow night. I hate it that he can get under my
skin like that. He’s nowhere in sight when I return to the living room to
straighten up. The guy can be a slob. Two empty beer bottles wait on the coffee
table and a pair of socks lie on the floor. A small scrap of red lace falls to
the carpet when I pick up the throw blanket from the couch.

Panties.
I guess I know what happened here last night. I hurry to toss them into the
washer with the rest of the clothes, then go check the kitchen. Other than a
few dishes, it’s still in good shape. Landon saunters in wearing his usual
jeans and fitted tee shirt. “How do you feel about cooking?”

“It’s
beneficial and keeps you from getting food poisoning.”

“Very
funny, smartass. I hate to cook and I’m getting sick of take out. I’d like you to
make dinner through the week. I’ll add a few dollars per hour to your wages.”

Stunned,
I turn to see if he’s just screwing with me. Fifteen dollars per hour if I’ll
also make a few meals? The way he says it, like money has no meaning or value
to him, kind of makes me sick. He wouldn’t feel that way if he had to struggle
every day to eat and pay rent. Sometimes, he comes off as a spoiled rich kid,
and I have to remind myself he’s been really good to me. There’s no reason to
think he’s like that.

“Deal,”
I reply. “Any requests for tonight?”

“Something
that will leave me with leftovers tomorrow?” he suggests with a shrug.

He’s
well stocked with groceries after my trip yesterday. “Lasagna?”

“Sounds
great.”

“I’ll
get started on that, then. Do you know what you’d like me to work on tonight?”