Anthony
If you want to be good, you have to learn from the best.
That’s Dad’s motto.
Except, I always thought it meant from him. Turns out, he has other ideas, which is why I’m currently standing on Stephanie Greenwood’s front porch about to ask for a favor. When Dad mentioned approaching Stephanie, a woman closer to his age than mine, I was more than a little excited. She’s the hottest fucking woman in this town. I see her all the time at the gym. Working with her, for her, around her—all seems like any guy’s fantasy.
Her ass is tight and fit—I know this because I’ve fought more than one hard-on as I watched her work out on the glutes machine. Often, she goes Saturday mornings at the same time I do. She’s drop-dead gorgeous with her long golden-blond hair, supple lips, and perfect tits. It’ll be the worst kind of punishment having to work for her but, fuck, it will also be the sweetest reward.
I ring the doorbell and pretend I was not just thinking about Stephanie’s ass and tits. The last thing I need is for her to answer the door with my dick greeting her first. Dad always says first impressions matter most. And although my dick is quite impressive, I doubt that’s what he had in mind.
The door swings open and I’m taken aback for a moment. Stephanie stands in the highest pair of heels and a dainty dress looking good enough to eat.
My dick officially says hello.
Apparently it’s heeding Dad’s advice.
“Anthony Blakely?” she questions, astonished. “I had you confused for Quinn there for a moment.”
Up close, I notice her lips are full and glossy. I’d pay good money just to suck the shiny look from them.
I flash her a crooked grin that works on most chicks. “Dad doesn’t like that I’m taller than him.”
She laughs—what a sweet fucking sound—as she steps aside. “Please, come in. Is there something you needed?”
I saunter into the foyer. When I see her daughter, a younger version of Stephanie, sitting on the couch with her son in her lap, I wave. “Hey, Lace.”
“Hey, Anthony.”
She and I went to school together all our lives. Lacy is a couple of years ahead of me.
“I was next door at Mrs. Sing’s when I noticed your yard,” I lie to Stephanie, my hands on my hips so I don’t do something stupid like reach out and touch her silky hair.
“What about my yard?” Stephanie questions in defense. It’s cute how her nostrils flare when she’s frustrated.
“Whoever you’re paying to do it, you should fire.” I dart my questioning gaze over to her son-in-law, Easton, who’s sitting next to Lacy.
He laughs and raises both palms. “Don’t look at me. I offered and was told no.”
“I do the yard,” Stephanie huffs. Her shoulders are stiff as she’s no longer happy to see me. Irritation has her lips pursing together. “Nothing is wrong with it.”
I let out a snort. “You cut the grass way too short for one. The edging isn’t straight. And do you know the difference between a weed and a flower? Your garden doesn’t.”
She gapes at me in horror.
“Oh, boy,” Lacy says, her tone amused.
Because I’m an idiot and I like how her blue eyes flare with fury, I keep on running my mouth. “It’s the worst looking yard on the street. Pales in comparison next to Mrs. Sing’s. Surely you’ve noticed how nice her yard is?”
Steph’s cheeks blaze bright red and I know why. I’ve seen her checking me out through the blinds as I mowed next door before in just a pair of basketball shorts. She’s definitely noticed a lot more than Mrs. Sing’s yard.
“It’s okay,” she lies.
I laugh and shake my head. “It’s better than okay. It’s the best.”
Stephanie swipes at a rogue blond strand of hair from her eyes—clearly flustered—and lets out a sigh of annoyance. “So you came over here to tell me what a crap job I do on my yard? Thanks.”
My grin is wolfish. “I came to see if you’d hire me.”
At this, she scoffs. “You’re just like your dad. Arrogant and presumptuous. Of course I won’t hire you. Not only do you have the worst business spiel known to man, but I also can’t afford you.”
Lies.
Everyone in town knows she does well at her advertising firm.
I give her a shrug. “I’ll do it for free.” My brows furrow as I reword that statement. “Well, not exactly free. A trade. I need something from you in return.”
Stephanie’s face turns an even brighter crimson. She shoots Lacy a confused look. Lacy’s husband chuckles from beside her.
“What do you want from me?” Stephanie’s voice has risen a few octaves.
I pause for a long moment. My gaze unabashedly peruses along her curves before I meet her stare with a conspiratorial grin. “One thing.” You.
“W-What?”
I smirk. “I need you to get me an internship at your agency. Dad won’t let me intern at his company because he wants me to bring some different experiences to the table. Plus, the college I plan on going to likes when you volunteer. Dad thinks it would be a conflict of interest if my only experience interning was with him.” I give her my best puppy dog stare.
“Okay.”
“What?” Lacy asks, her voice coming out a choke of surprise.
Stephanie lifts her chin. “We need an intern. Quinn Blakely’s son would be a good fit if Anthony here has one iota of his father’s work ethic and drive.” She sighs and flutters her fingers at me. “And I do need a yard boy.”
My jaw clenches in irritation. “I’m not a boy.”
I’m eighteen. A fucking man.
“She needs a pool guy too,” Lacy pipes up. “Javier forgets to come half the time and does a crappy job.”
“Lacy!” Stephanie admonishes. “I don’t need—”
“I’ll do anything you want,” I murmur, my voice low and promising.
It shuts her up. She shoots her daughter a helpless stare.
“Looks like you have a job, Anthony,” Lacy says to me with a grin.
“From the sounds of it,” Easton chimes in. “Like three free jobs. Good luck with that. If you’re in the business of working for free, the church could always use an extra pair of hands to polish those pews. They sure do get dirty.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell Easton before turning my attention to Steph. I jut out my hand, eager to touch her. “Do we have a deal?”
She slides her tiny hand into mine and immediately it’s as though electricity pulsates between us. If we didn’t have an audience, I’d be compelled to give her hand a little tug and pull her against my chest. I bet her hair smells fucking amazing.
“You can let go now,” Stephanie rasps as she tries to pull away her hand.
I pin her with a smoldering stare. “It’s a three-part deal. The handshake takes at least three times longer to seal the deal.”
I don’t let her go because I don’t want to.
After a beat, the spell is broken and she jerks her hand from mine.
“Time to go, Anthony. You can come over tomorrow. Be prepared to sweat.” She tries her best to appear threatening but fails miserably. Sexy. All she does is look sexy.
“I look forward to you making me sweat, Ms. Greenwood,” I murmur as I head toward the door. I cast one more heated glance at her over my shoulder. “All. Day. Long.”