I glanced at my
engagement ring. It would get better once we were actually married. It had to,
right?
“Miss Olsen, your
carpenter has arrived,” the new housekeeper called from outside my closed door,
keeping me from answering the one question I was certain I wouldn’t like the
answer to.
Regardless of my worries, I was going to marry Conner. I’d just
caught a case of cold feet. I wasn’t the first bride to experience pre-wedding
jitters, and I certainly wouldn’t be the last. At least my walk down the aisle
was a good year away.
“Miss Olsen…” she
started again.
“I heard you the
first time. Tell him I’ll be ready in a minute. He’s early.” I was tempted to
send him away.
My head hurt from
all the free dinks I’d consumed during my girls night out, and sleep had been
elusive. Images of one strong-as-steel biker had kept me up all night. He might
have been physically fucking the skanky bartender, but mentally it was about
me. A blind man could have seen that. And I wanted him to take me the way he
had her, hard and fast. For a virgin, I had no problem in the fantasy
department, and my toy collection had kept me busy exploring.
Pushing the away
the filthy thoughts, I planned my day.
Once I explained
my vision for the bathroom, I would escape to my poolside lounge chair. Maybe
the sun’s warmth would lull me to sleep. Though with my luck, I’d dream about
the infuriating man; my desires would find their way right into
dreamland.
“James!” I yelled
at my bodyguard slash butler. He waited just outside my bedroom door. “I need
you.”
As always, he
entered without delay. He knew better than to keep me waiting. “Yes, Miss
Olsen? What can I do for you?”
“That carpenter…escort
him up here, and then get my pool supplies ready. And call me, Olympia. I hate
Miss. How many times do I need to remind you?"
He inclined his
head and left to carry out my orders, wisely keeping his mouth shut.
My dad had hired
him and my housekeeper to go with the new house. He’d managed to pick the
perfect staff; loyal, dedicated, and willing to tolerate my treatment no matter
how bitchy and bossy I was. I didn’t doubt he was paying them way more than
what they would make elsewhere, which was a green light for me to do what I
wanted. I would make sure they earned their salaries.
I hurried over to
open the doors to my private balcony. Stepping outside, I gazed down at the
pool, its water shimmering in the morning sunlight. My chase was waiting,
towels, lotion, and a mini ice chest next to it. Apparently James had already
anticipated my wishes.
He’d been hired a
month before the house was complete and had already figured out how to foresee
my needs, discovering the hard way what happened when he didn’t.
I smiled to
myself. Another man under my thumb, just the way I liked it.
“Olympia, this is
Mr. Richards,” James announced from behind.
Just great, I
hadn’t put on my cover up; which meant, Mr. Richards, AKA biker carpenter, was
getting a very intimate view of my ass.
My favorite bikini
bottom, as Conner liked to point out, was just a thin strip of material that
rested between my butt cheeks, not an actual swimsuit bottom. Though, despite
his complaints, he loved to tease me and referred to me as Cheeky when I wore
it. A teeny triangle made up the front, leaving little to the imagination.
Mr. Richards
cleared his throat.
“My cover, James?”
He handed it over
in a blink. I still couldn’t get over how fast he moved. Thankfully, I was now
hidden beneath the silk. I cinched the belt and turned to face my newest
worker, prepared to put him in his place.
When he met my
gaze, a wicked grin spread across his handsome face. “Olympia Olsen,” he
drawled. “Nice to see you again, so soon.”
I released a puff of
air and sputtered, “You! You’re not doing my bathroom. No way. Send someone
else.”
“Is there a
problem, sugar?” My dad entered the bedroom, surprising me. “I just wanted to
make sure…”
“Make sure what?
That I could handle my own construction project.” I turned my shock and fury at
seeing the man who’d kept me awake all night and was now standing in my bedroom
with a tool belt slung from his hips onto my dumbstruck father.
Mr. Richards
raised a brow, challenging me. If I complained about his behavior last night,
my dad and fiancé would know where I’d been drinking. Something that wasn’t
acceptable. Conner would lose it. Having me hanging out at some dive bar didn’t
look good for his political aspirations.
As for the burly
biker who’d invaded my dreams, there was no way I was letting him intimidate
me. This was a simple business transaction. No reason to get upset. I’d
overreacted. James was by my side, hovering protectively. All I had to do was
explain what I wanted and disappear poolside.
So what if he was
wearing a black t-shirt that strained across his chest, clinging to his hard
contours and defined abs. If I could just stop staring, I’d be fine. Besides,
it didn’t matter what he looked like, he was wrong for me in every way.
Even so, I
couldn’t help but admire the way his tattooed arms flexed when he crossed them.
It was undeniably impressive.
Not a problem. I’d just keep my eyes off his
bulging biceps. I could do that.
With renewed
resolve, I tore my gaze away from his body, only to be rewarded by his smug,
knowing expression that had me questioning my sanity.
“Olympia,” my dad
pressed, pulling me from my appraisal. “I never doubted your ability to explain
your vision. I just wanted to make sure things were off to a good start.
Remember, I hired Mr. Richards.”
“Indeed you did,”
I muttered. “Daddy, go to work. James is here with me. I’ll be fine.”
He walked over and
kissed the top of my head. “See you at dinner, sweetie. Mr. Richards, I trust
you will exceed my daughter’s expectations. This project is very important to
her.”
“Oh, I have no
doubt I will exceed any and every expectation your daughter has.”
My dad nodded and
left, missing, or choosing to ignore, the way the biker’s gaze devoured me. I
shivered despite the sun’s warmth beating on my back through the open balcony
doors.
This was going to
be a long, long day.
