“Where were you last night?” Pandora hunches over the counter, wiggling her ass and grinning. “Tried texting you. Not like you to pass up a chance with the boss’s daughter.”
My gaze snaps toward Rod in his office, who’s completely oblivious. Fucking the boss’s daughter isn’t my proudest accomplishment, but damn if she doesn’t remind me of a white trash version of my only weakness.
Sometimes, in his most desperate hours, a man has to settle.
“Come on,” she says. “I know it turns you on just as much as it turns me on.”
Pandora Patterson is Demi Rosewood’s cheap alter-ego. Raven hair. Full lips. Big tits. Curves for days. Round, blue eyes. Pandora’s just a little edgier. Less refined. Sleeves of tats. Garish red lips. A throaty laugh. A perpetual perfume of stale cigarettes and spilled drinks. She’s sure as fuck no substitute for the real thing, but I’m a man with limited options, and Pandora never once judged my situation.
“Told you,” I say. “We can’t do that anymore.”
She pouts and drags a pointed fingernail down her cheek like she’s crying. Slinking over to me, she slips her arm around my shoulders.
“God, Royal, you’re such a fucking tease.” Pandora rubs her breasts against my chest and leans into my ear. “I thought about you last night. Nothing else makes me cum harder than when I think about all those naughty things you do to me in the back of the shop after Daddy leaves . . .”
Pandora’s a kinky little slut. She gets off on the thrill of almost getting caught, and she loves fucking the kind of men her daddy would chase with a shotgun. Even grizzly Rod Patterson has standards for his wayward daughter.
She runs her fingers through my hair, helping herself to a handful and jerking my mouth toward hers. Her cigarette breath fills my lungs when she laughs through her nose.
“You’re so tortured,” she says. “You know that? I think that’s why I can’t get you out of my head. I just want to fix you.”
“Don’t need fixing.”
“Everyone needs fixing.”
“Doesn’t mean they want to be.”
“Ugh. You’re so stubborn.” She smacks my chest. “And damaged and guarded.”
Her palm then slides to the front of my pants before she cups my junk. I suppose this would be considered sexual harassment, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve been through worse shit than a big-titted sex-addict feeling on me. Pandora gives my cock a gentle squeeze and stares into my eyes. The sound of her dad tapping his booted foot along to CCR’s Fortunate Son in his office just fifteen feet away sends a quick sweat down my back.
I can’t afford to lose this job.
“And I fucking love it.” She releases me from her clutches and returns to the reception desk to answer a ringing phone. “Patterson Auto Body.”
Pandora slips a nail between her lips and winks my way.
“Didn’t want to talk to you either.” She slams the phone down, shrugging. When her shoulders move inward, her cleavage spills out of her top. It’s intentional, no question. “No one there.”
A rusting, bumper-less Lincoln pulls up outside. Guessing they need an estimate. I head to the desk to grab a pen and clipboard. Pandora wears a mischievous grin when I stride her way.
“No,” I say.
“What, are you a homo now?” She says it loud enough that her dad could hear if his wasn’t so busy humming along to Sweet Home Alabama. Her hand hooks the curve above her left hip. “Stop pretending you don’t want this anymore.”
We had this talk weeks ago. Why she’s all over me now is beyond me.
“You trying to get me in trouble?” My tone is low yet sharp. I shake my head. Don’t have time for this shit. “Don’t, Pandora.”
I really need a new fucking job.
Chapter Ten
Royal
It’s a thirty-minute drive from Patterson Auto Body to my apartment in Glidden, and it just so happens that Rixton Falls is the halfway point.
I take a detour toward Demi’s neighborhood and rest at a stop sign a minute too long. It’s just past dusk. She could still be at the hospital for all I know, but she knows my car now. No more drive-bys. No more watching like some fucking loser creep.
It’s probably all for the best anyway.
I need to move on. Clearly she did.
The honk of a horn behind me prompts my foot to gun the gas, and I charge straight ahead, down Demi’s Better Homes and Gardens street.
Her porch lights shine, and her car is parked in the driveway, taillights glowing red then fading to dark.
Fuck.
I stop down the street and wait as she exits her Subaru and heads inside. Forecast is calling for more snow tonight. It’s a shame she can’t park in the garage. Last I knew, it was full of all Brooks’s “toys.”
Part of me wants to leave and come back another time. Give her more space. I shouldn’t have shown up last night out of the blue, but I couldn’t stand back and watch her suffer.
Not again.
Things were tolerable when I thought she was happy. She smiled a lot, at least from what I could tell. I’d check her social media sites from time to time. She seemed to love him enough. I stayed away, figuring she’d moved on long ago.
And then I learned what kind of fucking asshole Brooks Abbott truly is.
Demi deserves better.
I had to intervene.
I just didn’t know Brooks would be paying for his mistakes with his life.