Chapter 14
I slept like a baby last night!
Seeing the hunger on Keeland’s face as I taunted him from the window felt even better than the orgasm itself.
Let me just say that what I did was completely out-of-character for me. I’m not very forward with my sexuality. I’m not overly flirtatious or provocative. I don’t flaunt my cleavage in guys’ faces. Hell — I never even initiated sex when I was with my ex-boyfriend of two years.
I’m not a ‘ho.
But Keeland Masters needed to be taught a lesson. He’s been mocking me since we were kids, dangling his body in front of me only to snatch back right as I’m getting close. Well, those days are over. I’m not a kid anymore and I won’t let him get under my skin.
Last night, I taught him not to mess with me…This morning, I feel great about it.
And it looks like today might turn out pretty awesome, too. I have a job interview!
I got the email late last night from a small auditing firm in the city. So, I’m up early and dressed in my best with a little hop in my step, ready to go impress their socks off.
I even put on the pearl earrings my aunt Shirley gave me for my 21st birthday and my thick-framed reading glasses. It makes me look like I’ve got my shit together. I feel confident and my mood is ah-mazing…
…Until I notice the foot of snow sitting in my driveway.
Where did that come from?
It definitely wasn’t there when I went to bed last night. Shit, I should have checked the forecast.
So now, my zen, tranquil morning has just morphed into a mad dash to shove cold, leftover pizza into my mouth while shoveling the driveway with one eye on the clock.
But getting my little Prius to start? Not happening.
I smack my forehead into the steering wheel over and over again. Toyotas don’t break down. Isn’t that what they say? But it’s just my luck that my trusty little hybrid seems to have bitten the dust on the morning that I need her most. I push the power button again, but all I get is a spu-ta-ta-ta in reply.
“No, no, no,” I groan under my breath, unable to wrap my head around my bad fortune. I pop the driver’s side door open and just sit there, staring blankly at my dashboard with no idea what to do. Chilly air fills the cabin.
Keeland steps out onto the porch next door in a fluffy, black robe open wide over his black boxers. Barefoot. Bed head. He wipes sleep from his crystalline blue eyes as he approaches the driveway. He props an elbow on the roof of the car and leans into the open door. “I guess this morning’s your turn to wake up the whole neighborhood, huh?”
He gives me a one-sided smile, cool and collected, seemingly unfazed by what happened last night. Meanwhile, all I can think is, he’s seen me have an orgasm…he’s seen me have an orgasm!
It seemed like a good idea last night. Now? Not so much.
“Stop. Please. I finally have a job interview and I’m late and I don’t need your snark right now.”
He backs away, lifting his hands in surrender. “Sorry to interrupt your joyless pursuit of entry level grunt work in corporate America. Won't bother you again." He walks back up the pathway and disappears into the house, slamming the door behind him.
After a few minutes of fruitless tinkering with the ignition, I’m frustrated enough to cry. I drag ass out of the car and circle to the front. I pull and pull, trying to pry the hood up. I can’t even figure out how to open the thing, so chances are good that I won’t have any idea what I’m doing once I finally get the hood to pop up.
I sigh, discouraged, weighing my options. I would order an Uber, but…Reyfield? Ha!
My chances of getting a taxi up here within the next twenty minutes are equally slim. Nancy’s car isn’t in her driveway, so begging her for a lift is out of the question. Daniel is probably already at work so I can’t call him, either.
I have only one option left. Walk — make that, run — all the way to Pomello Street in my heels, in the snow to catch an express bus to downtown Chicago.
I slog back to the driver’s side door to grab my purse out of the front seat. That’s when Keeland’s front door swings open again. He appears in the doorway wearing a thick, gray hoodie, dark jeans and black construction boots. “Come on. Let’s go,” he says to me as he clomps by me at high speed.
My eyes follow him down to the sidewalk. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Sammie. Time is money.” He doesn’t bother to look at me. He just keeps walking.
“What are you doing?” I ask. I find myself following him gingerly in my too-high interview shoes.
“I’m taking you to your interview.” He keeps walking.
I scoff at him. “You must be crazy. Do I look like I’d just hop onto your motorcycle and zoom down to Chicago? That thing is a death-trap on two wheels, especially in weather like this.”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he aims a remote starter at a shiny black pick-up truck parked across the street. I’ve never noticed the vehicle on Thornbush Lane before. “We’re taking my truck, Sammie.” He eyes me over his shoulder. “Is that good enough for you?”
Ugh – he’s such an asshole!
I weigh my options again.
Fuck it — these heels weren’t made for trudging in the snow.
I hang my head in shame and climb into the passenger’s seat of Keeland’s new truck.