Stud Muffin Read online

  I feel like I’m going through the motions. Since quitting my job at Franklin Consolidated, I tried out photography for a little while, and while I enjoyed it at first, I quickly realized it wasn’t for me when I was taking a lot more pictures than I was selling. Besides, with Roxy moving on to be with Jake, I was starting to drain my savings, even if I did downgrade my living situation. So I picked up this job at Aurora Holdings and have been here since.

  Aurora’s a good job, and it does allow me to travel, which is something I’ve always wanted. Real estate research and scouting for rich investors is actually fun. And I do still have my camera, even if the only people who see my work are my Facebook friends. Still, it’s not where I want to be.

  “Yeah, well, you don’t have to be angry about me and Jake,” Roxy says, and I can hear that she’s not really hurt, but still a little peeved.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. I’m coming across as bitter and I don’t mean to. “I don’t want to seem like I’m being Princess Pissy Panties over here. I’m happy for you, Rox. It’s just that . . . I thought I might have had something special with Josh.” I bite my lower lip. “While I felt creeped the fuck out about the whole thing, at least I hadn’t invested a lot of my time into the relationship. What’s that saying, better now than later? I’m more upset about another failed venture. Another waste of my time.”

  “Oh, honey, I understand,” Roxy says emphatically. “But you’ll get through it. As you like to remind me, you’re that bitch who turns bad boys into choir boys.”

  “Girl, I feel more like ‘that dumb trick who gets nothing but shit’ right about now.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Roxy says before burping loudly. “Sorry, I’m blaming that on the baby.”

  I laugh, having heard Roxy let loose some wall rattlers before. “Seriously. I’ve decided I’m cursed when it comes to men. So maybe I’m going to hang up my coat for a while. Hell, I’ll even break out the granny panties and let the garden grow since no one will be breaking and entering any time soon.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’ll be back to riding dick in a week.” Roxy snorts a laugh. “You need it like the rest of us need water.”

  “Just watch me. I’m serious.”

  Roxy giggles, unconvinced. “Well, other than dicks with dicks, how are you doing? Liking the job?”

  I shrug, though she can’t see me. “It’s good. I like my boss, I directed some good sales last quarter, and most importantly, I still get to travel and take pics. Especially awesome that I get to do that on someone else’s dime.”

  Sharp voices interrupt my words, and I hear footsteps approaching from outside.

  “Shit. Okay, boss coming. I got to get off quick.”

  Roxy tries to get out a quick, “Bye, Mommy—” in a baby voice.

  I hang up before she can finish, vowing I’ll get her back the next time I see her, and pretend to start working. Bringing up my desktop screen, I pull up a recent property on my computer along with a few websites about the area. As I do, the two voices become clearer.

  “Just give me the chance, Mrs. Sinclair,” I hear Cassie White, my twenty-one-year-old, relatively new coworker say as the two women walk into view. My boss, Myra Sinclair, is dressed sharp as a tack, as usual, in a slim-fitting white pantsuit, her grey-white hair cut into a trendy side bob. She has money, and I gotta give it to her—she built it the old-fashioned way. She’s used her own sweat and genius to become the head of the property division of Aurora Holdings. Now, she’s always wanting the world to know it. Cassie, in perfect minion fashion, has on a grey pantsuit, her dark blonde hair pulled back into a sophisticated ponytail. It’s not that Cassie doesn’t have skills. She’s smart when she wants to be. She just seems to still be in the ‘make a good impression’ stage and hasn’t quite figured out that she needs to move on.

  Sinclair spins sharply on Cassie, causing her to nearly stumble back and fall to the floor. “Absolutely not! I told you already that you’re too inexperienced. There’s too much riding on this, and I wouldn’t be comfortable with only you there.”

  “But I can do it,” says Cassie enthusiastically, flashing her dimple-filled smile that I’m sure melts the hearts of men but does nothing for Myra.

  “Funny you say that when you nearly botched your last assignment. I seem to recall your spilling coffee into Mr. Balding’s lap. He had second-degree burns on his balls and we narrowly avoided getting sued.”

  Cassie bites her lip, looking guilty. I remember that day. It had been my quick thinking—and a nearby pitcher of iced tea—that had stopped the burns from being worse. “That was an accident.”

  “That’s one of the main reasons I don’t want to send you alone. You lack grace and experience.” Cassie scowls at Myra’s insult, but she pretends not to notice. Myra shakes her head sadly. “Besides, my bosses have someone else in mind . . .” Myra goes silent and looks my way, and I pretend to be preoccupied with the paper I’m scribbling on.

  “Hannah,” says Myra in an almost singsong voice.

  I look up from my computer. “Yes, Mrs. Sinclair?”

  “Our quarterly report just came in,” she says, brandishing the stack of folders in her hands. “And do you know what it says?”

  I beam with pride. Damn right, I do. That, at least, I can take pride in. “That we’re doing great, better than we expected.”

  Myra lets out a laugh. “Oh, dear, that’s a good one!” Her smile fades fast, leaving me confused. “Apparently, Aurora Holdings has lost its holdings, pun intended. The shedding of our properties in Puerto Rico and Europe has hurt our shares, and several divisions are under threat of becoming extinct.”

  She doesn’t have to say which divisions she means. I was responsible for the selling of the European properties, but the market was crashing, the properties were old, and there was no way we were going to get a better price. It was the right thing to do. Still, my mouth goes dry. I thought we were doing great. “We had that company conference call,” I protest, thinking of last week’s call. “The CFO was talking a good game.”

  Myra snorts, flipping a dismissive hand. “Jason Randal is a braggart used car salesman and nothing more. The damn fool wouldn’t know his asshole from a hole in the ground. It was all talk, Hannah. That’s what it was, designed to keep our shareholders appeased and the company from panicking. We’ve already taken a pounding in the market. We start a shareholder revolt, and we’re in deep shit.”

  I gulp. I’ve never heard Myra be this brutal before. “Mrs. Sinclair . . .”

  “The truth is, our company is close to bankruptcy,” Myra says, a note of doom entering her voice.

  Her words hit me like a semi-truck in the chest and the office goes totally silent. I clutch the edge of my desk as Cassie turns white in the face, dread gripping my insides. I thought for sure we were doing amazing things. I just secured a contract on a property in a new market that’s going to be super hot within ten years. Even Myra said I’d done a great job in closing the deal.

  Ugh. This couldn’t have come at a worse time.

  I was so confident after the last deal that I signed a new lease for an upgraded apartment. There’s no way I can afford to lose this job. I don’t care if I have rich friends. I’m not asking for a handout.

  “So what’s going to happen?” I ask, feeling slightly nauseous.

  Myra shrugs. “If we don’t get a few things falling our way . . . it’s not looking good.”

  I bite my lower lip as I watch Cassie grab herself by the arms. She looks like she’s about to cry.

  “But,” Myra says, giving me the eye of the tiger, “there's an opportunity.”

  “What’s that?” I feel both motivated and frustrated at the same time.

  Myra tosses the folder on my desk. “Hawaii. We’ve tried to secure this in the past, but the man never seemed ready to sell.”

  I flip through the papers, skimming the details. “Wow,” I say as I look at the photos that are included. They’re not professional, but still, th
e property is so impressive it doesn’t need pro photography. “This could be big.”

  Myra nods. “And it could be the thing that saves us. I just need someone competent to go seal the deal. I’ve worked hard and told the suits that this division can handle it. They were impressed by how you secured the Hastings deal. They want you on the task.”

  “Me?” I say incredulously. “I’m not sure I’m the one for the job with so much at stake.”

  Myra clucks her tongue reprovingly. “They won't be happy to hear that. But if you insist, I’ll tell them.”

  “I’ll do it,” I say immediately. It’s my ass on the line too, and if it goes south, at least I can’t blame anyone but myself. I try to regain my confidence, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll take care of it. I know the island market . . .”

  I go silent as Myra gives me a bemused and worried look. “It’s not what you think. You see, the owner is an eccentric man by the name of Wesley Mobber.” Myra picks up the folder off my desk and flips through it, turning pages until she pulls out a glossy photo with a page paperclipped to it. She hands me the photo of a middle-aged white man smiling through a week-old beard with a twisted knot of dreadlocks on top of his head. “He’s not going to let just anyone have the property.”

  I stare. The guy looks like something out of a parodied Internet meme or something. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Myra sighs. “Wesley is not a motivated seller. From what I gather, he’ll sell, but first, he has to like you. Like I said, people have been trying to secure this property for a while. He’s not doing anything with the land, so he’s basically losing money. But he doesn’t give a shit. He’s got enough to sit on the damn thing until your grandchildren are geezers. And so far, his eccentric ways have proven quite . . . difficult. He’s granted us a meeting though, so you have to work your magic and seal the deal.”

  “I can handle eccentric,” Cassie boasts immediately, as if she knows exactly what that means. I damn sure don’t. “I’ll do my Cassie Charmer and have his head spinning so fast that his dreads are going to—”

  “I don’t think so. You can stay here,” I try to say. If it’s this important, I can’t risk Cassie screwing this up. Besides, the first surfer hottie she sees, she’s going to be distracted for the rest of the stay.

  “But this will be good for me!” Cassie pleads, turning to Myra. “You say Hannah is great at her job, you’ve mentored her yourself. Let me learn from her, maybe she can mentor me?”

  Myra bites her lips, thinking thoughtfully. “Maybe…”

  I shake my head gently, “Myra, if this contract is do-or-die for the company, I need to focus 100%, not spend time teaching Cassie.”

  Cassie ping-pongs her head between the Myra and me, finally settling on Myra. “That’s the best time to learn.”

  Myra scowls, and coalesces, “I’ll give it some thought, Cassie.” Myra turns her gaze back to me. “I need you to go through the report, do your research, and then get back to me asap on your plan of attack so we can book your trip.”

  “Right away—” I begin to say.

  Cassie cuts in quickly. “How am I supposed to get the experience if you don’t give me the chance? Please, Myra, I won’t let you down. I’ll just watch, learn, and follow Hannah’s instructions.”

  Myra pauses, staring at Cassie thoughtfully.

  Seeing a hole in Myra’s armor, Cassie presses her advantage. “I can play fetch, help her with research . . .”

  Myra holds up her hand. “Okay, you know what, Cassie? You’re going, but you’re going to be Hannah’s assistant. Whatever she needs, you do, and nothing more.”

  “Thank you!” Cassie lets out a squeal of delight, coming forward to give Myra a hug, but stops dead in her tracks when Myra fixes her with a frosty scowl.

  “Don’t thank me. Just do your job well,” Myra growls. She turns and nods at me. “Report to me when you’re done. I’m counting on you.” She walks out of the room and enters her office, closing the door behind her.

  I let out a groan and mutter under my breath, “Just great . . . she’s saddling me with the motor mouth from hell.”

  “Oh, come on, Hannah,” Cassie says, flashing her dimples at me. “You’ve got the wrong impression about me. You’ll see.”

  I point a stern finger at her. “I’m serious, Cass. I don’t want you to even breathe without my approval. We can’t screw this up.”

  Cassie’s smile only widens. “You got it, boss.”

  “And no fetching coffee!” I have to add, remembering the narrowly avoided lawsuit. “I don’t want any more fried balls on my watch.”

  Cassie salutes me. “Got it. No more fried ballsacks!”

  Staring into her smiling face, I can see disaster just over the horizon, but I’m hoping I’m wrong. If Myra says for her to go and watch, I’ll go with it.

  Chapter 2

  Anthony

  “Fucking asshole!”

  Smack!

  My head turns slightly to the side, a burning sting on my cheek. Clenching my jaw, I slowly turn my head around to gaze at the furious little minx dressed in a skintight blue dress who’s practically foaming at the mouth.

  Why does it always seem like chicks can’t wait to slap me? Do I have a sign on my face that says Slap Me?

  “This is the second time you’ve humiliated me!” Samantha fumes, clenching her hands and standing up on her tiptoes to try to get in my face. She still barely reaches my chin, and that’s in three-inch heels. I’ve heard that short chicks can be feisty, and redheads even feistier. I guess I should have known that going out with a five-foot-tall redhead was dangerous for my health. “I was waiting here for an hour and everyone was looking at me like I was crazy!”

  Well, you are crazy.

  “Calm down,” I say placatingly, glancing around at the crowd of people flowing around us. We’re in a shopping mall square. I’d just gotten here and barely had the chance to approach Sam before she goes all MMA on my ass. “Something unexpected came up. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

  I don’t bother telling her I was handling business for Oliver, my big brother. Yeah, I should’ve called, but I lost track of time. It didn’t seem like it took that long. I know I’m at fault here, but Samantha hasn’t seemed interested in my job before. She’s only wanted to know that I’d be there to show her a good time and then fuck her until she passes out. Usually, I’ve delivered on both.

  I would’ve tonight, too, but Oliver cockblocked me. I went into town to check out an eightplex, nothing major, and got held up by an overzealous lady who wouldn’t stop talking. She wasn’t even interested in selling the property. She just wanted to have someone to pour out her life story to. I bet her tenants know better than to hand-deliver the rent checks.

  “An hour!” Sam screeches, causing heads to turn as she jerks me out of my thoughts. “We had a date, Tony! A date!”

  I scratch at the stubble on my jaw. This is turning left quickly. The biggest problem is, I find myself not really caring that she’s mad. Especially since she just bitch slapped my ass.

  “Well, I’m sorry,” I half mutter.

  Samantha scowls at me, crossing her arms across her chest. “Sorry isn’t good enough. You know what my girlfriends say? That I made you up. That you are a fictional character whom I only dream about being amazing in bed, and I named you after the vibrator that I carry around in my purse.”

  I know I shouldn’t, but I laugh. “You carry a vibrator around in your purse?”

  My laughter only enrages her. “That’s funny to you?” she snarls. “It was one damn time, and now you gotta jump on my back too?”

  I try my best to hold in my grin, and I hold my hands up in surrender instead. It does me no good. “No, I didn’t mean to—”

  “You know what?” Sam yells, cutting me off, “Fuck you! I’m done!”

  Her dismissal is broadcast to everyone and their grandmother, and she spins on her heel and disappears in the crowd. A few of the guys walking by gi
ve me commiserating looks, but a few are also smirking—single guys who are probably thinking, fuck it, it’s my chance now, homey.

  For a moment, I stand there, debating on whether to go after her. After a moment, I shrug. It just isn’t worth my damn time. We’ve only been going out for a month, and she already thinks I owe her the world. The only thing I’ve owed her is what I’ve given back, toe-curling orgasms that leave her knocked out in bed. But she seems to think my getting her off is some sort of privilege. I don’t need that drama. Honestly, it feels like I’ve just been going through the motions.

  But the truth is, I’ve been in one failed relationship after another. I always do something fucking stupid. I guess this is another one of those situations. A few times, it was because I was scared to commit. I saw the relationship my father had with my mom. I saw how he left her and how Mom struggled for years, refusing the crumbs from his table. I don’t want to be that dude.

  I run my hand through my hair, looking around. I still feel bad for Sam. I honestly didn’t mean to be late. But it’s actually best that we part ways now rather than later. I could already tell she wasn’t the one, so why prolong it?

  I rub my cheek. It still burns from the slap, but another girl comes to mind. I fucked that up within a few minutes of talking to her. Shit, I thought I was feeling a naughty vibe from her and figured she’d dig it. I remember the night of the wedding and how she felt for that one dance. The way she looked, and then I went and . . .

  I push the thought out of my head. Hannah’s far gone, in another city and probably with a guy who treats her right. Hell, she could be knocked up by now. I only knew her for a second. It was just heated lust.

  Fuck it, the night is ruined. I could go catch the movie we were supposed to see. I’d talked her into something decent . . .

  My phone buzzes and I pull it out. It’s a text from Oliver.