Chapter 3 - Lesley
I sat with my legs crossed at my usual table at Paddy’s Pub. I tried to keep my chin up as I sipped at my gin and tonic. Another hour to go before my shift began at the gas station, and I knew I’d need a drink before I got there . . . to help me get through the night.
My days were the usual. It was the same routine over and over again – no change. Diner, lunch, Paddy’s Pub, gas station, and then driving dejectedly back to our tiny apartment in the wee hours of the morning, hoping I didn’t wake mom and dad as they tried to catch up on sleep. Hoping to get a few winks in myself, so that I wasn’t yawning the whole time at the diner. The meager tips I collected paid for gas and my daily drink at the pub. My paychecks all went towards rent and putting food on the table. We were struggling to stay alive.
I’d been sitting at the table for no more than a few minutes with my drink when I heard a voice at my side.
“Heard you’re looking for work,” the voice was deep and familiar. I jerked my head around to see a man standing over me. When our eyes met, I knew instantly who it was. Connor Marshall. I didn’t even know he was back! My eyebrows furrowed as we stared at each other. There was no hint of friendliness on his face. Instead, he looked like he was about to burst a vein. He’d always looked rebellious, like he hated his life, even though he had so much to be thankful for.
“Who told you that?” I said and took a sip of my drink. Who did he think he was, just turning up five years later and not even greeting me with a hello? But, damn, those eyes! I realized that my teenage erotic fantasies about him had not exactly disappeared.
He had the same glacial blue eyes that gave away nothing. The same chiseled features, strong jaw, and sophisticated pointy nose. However, there was something distinctly different about him now as well. He was more muscular. I could see his shirt stretching over his expansive chest, his biceps bulging . . . His neck was wide and strong. Even his skin looked tanned. Like he’d been out in the sun all day for a while now!
“You’re saying you don’t need a job?” he asked, his voice sharply jerking me out of my gushing admiration of his body. Even Connor’s hair was longer now; it reached his shoulders but was the same dirty blond as before. He had developed a certain roughness about – like he didn’t live in the lap of luxury anymore.
“I already have a job,” I said and he took in a deep breath. Connor’s wide shoulders shook and my mind instantly went to what he was hiding under his pants.
I might have been a kid when Connor was in the prime of his Casanova days, but his legend had lived on. Girls I knew spoke about Connor’s cock like it was a thing to be worshipped. Apparently, he was known to make a girl come just with one measured stroke of his cock. I shifted in my seat.
“You work at a diner and a gas station. Those aren’t jobs – they’re slavery,” he said, keeping his lips rigidly firm. I felt a sudden urge to jump off my seat and slap him straight across the face. Who was he to judge my means of living? What did he know about earning a livelihood? Heir to the Marshall business legacy!
“Excuse me?” I said instead, feeling my hands shaking a little as I gripped my glass of gin. All those years, when we were neighbors, I’d admired him from a distance. Watching him climbing down the window of his bedroom, bringing home girl after girl every night. My parents told me that he used to babysit me when I was five or so, but I didn’t remember. All I remembered was Connor Marshall’s dangerous blue eyes and his rough large hands and that voice . . .
“You know what I’m talking about. You’re free to continue working those shit jobs if you want, or you could come work for me,” I heard him say and I gritted my teeth at him. All those years of fantasizing about this guy, and now he was throwing me a job offer like it was pocket change. I despised his arrogance, but what more should I have expected from him?
Connor’s gaze travelled over my face, down my neck, to my breasts, and I suddenly felt naked. Like he could see right through me. I was aware of the way men looked at me, but nobody had undressed me with their eyes the way Connor was doing right now. And I was surprised to realize that I liked it. I liked being watched by him.
“I’m leaving you my card. It has the address of my ranch in Texas. If you’re willing to take a risk and move, you can come work for me at the ranch,” he said and gave me one quick once over. Connor had turned and walked straight out of the bar.
I stared after him, my lips hanging open in utter surprise. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. That he’d actually offered me a job, no questions asked and no details provided. Did he really expect me to leave everything and follow him to Texas?
Did he really think I was that desperate?
I tried not to think about how desperate I actually was. That a few minutes ago, before he had walked up to me, I would have given my right arm to get away from this town in search of a new life. But how could I accept his offer now? I knew exactly the kind of man Connor Marshall was. I knew the effect he had on my body.