Junkyard Dog (15 page)

“You’re going to make me come,” he groans.

I smile at how much he enjoys my body. To see him
so fucking desperate is sexy as hell. Having him own my body is even more
irresistible. He pounds into me with abandon, pinching my nipples until I come
uncontrollably. I’ve never had a man take from me what he wants and leave me so
perfectly satisfied.

T
he twins are suspended from school for three days after
getting into a fight with a few kids at recess. The principal has a
no-tolerance policy for violence and sends the offenders home for the rest of
the week.
Yes, because nothing punishes children more than taking away their
beloved school.

I punish the twins, but they don’t care. Losing
Xbox means nothing to them if the alternative is taking shit from kids at
school.

“So what were you suspended for?” Hayes asks when I
bring the kids into the office on their first day off.

“This boy was making fun of Chipper,” Cricket
explains casually. “I told the kid to stop being an asshole. He got mad and
threw dirt at Chipper. I jumped on the kid and made him eat dirt. One of the
kid’s friends tried to hit me, so Chipper knocked him to the ground. We did
nothing wrong, but the principal had to make an example of us.”

“You got into a fight at school,” I say. “That’s
something wrong.”

“I was defending Chipper, and he was defending me.
We were loyal to our family. How can that be wrong?”

I look at Hayes and sigh. “See what I have to put
up with? They’re too damn smug for their own good.”

Chipper smiles at Hayes. “When I knocked that kid
down, he cried.”

“Good,” Hayes announces, surprising no one. “Punks
need to be treated harshly, or they won’t learn. It’s in their DNA to keep
messing with people until they hit a wall. You were that wall. Now you get a
vacation from school. Everyone wins.”

“You’re not helping,” I mutter.

Hayes grins. “You didn’t expect me to.”

“No, I guess I didn’t,” I admit, grinning. “I swear
I’d homeschool them if we didn’t do work here that no child should witness.”

Hayes knows what I’m talking about, and he also
suddenly realizes the kids’ vacation will leave him sexless for the rest of the
week.

“Get them a babysitter,” he says.

“Who?”

“Anyone,” he mutters, walking away.

“Would you leave Nightmare with just anyone?” I
call out to him.

Hayes shuts his door without answering. He pretends
to be pissed, but I know he’s only horny.

The twins go with us to the Waffle House for
breakfast. They ride with me while I follow Hayes around to all of his sites.
The four of us eat lunch together. It’s a weird arrangement, but no one
complains. The kids are happy to be out of school. During the afternoon, they
work quietly on their assignments in the meeting room while I finish up with
things for Hayes.

On the second day, the boss man brings his dog. I
suspect Nightmare is meant to entertain the kids. Whatever the reason, we order
pizza into the office for lunch and skip running to the various sites.

“The backyard looks great with the sod,” I say,
leaning against the doorway while watching the kids kick a soccer ball.

“I miss you,” he says, kissing my shoulder and then
walking away. “Feels like we’re running a daycare.”

Watching him sulk, I laugh. “This is nothing like a
daycare. There's no crying or tantrums. Well, except the one you’re throwing.”

Hayes frowns at me from his spot near my desk. I
look outside to where Nightmare chases the ball. The kids laugh and run around
the fenced area. They’re happy here, and I wish I could bring them every day.

“Don’t you miss me?” he finally asks in a grumpy
voice.

“Of course. I could leave them at Honey’s house for
a few hours tomorrow if you want.”

“Why not all day?”

“They hate it there.”

“Why?”

“Wouldn’t you hate hanging out with little kids and
an unhappy housewife?”

Hayes shrugs. “Normal women get daycare when their
kids stay home.”

Now I feel grumpy. “Besides missing out on the
fucking, how exactly are you put out in this situation?”

“I paid for their food.”

“I'll pay then.”

Hayes waves off my offer. “This is a workplace, and
they shouldn’t be here.”

“I’ll stay home with them tomorrow then,” I say,
crossing my arms angrily. “On Monday, they’ll go back to school, and I’ll be
back.”

Hayes grumbles under his breath, but I pretend to
ignore his irritation.

“I drove by your house the other day,” I say, and
he instantly glares at me.

“Why?”

“I was curious.”

“Are you stalking me?”

“Yeah, sure. Love the gnomes, by the way,” I tease
and then flash him a grin. “So anyway, I noticed your house is really large,
and that got me thinking.”

“About what?” he growls in a voice his enemies know
well.

“This office is set up all wrong,” I say,
pretending not to notice the death stare he’s giving me. “All of the space is
in the front while you have a tiny office where you can barely stand without
knocking over shit.”

“So?”

“So you ought to have one of your crews move that
wall out and open up your office. I’ve cleared up all the mess and organized it
into the cabinets. You could easily double your office, and I’d still have
plenty of space out here.”

Hayes says nothing, and I finally look directly at
him. “You’re a big man, and you live in a big house. You should have a big
office.”

“Everything is so simple for you, isn’t it, Candy?
You think something needs to happen so I should just open up my checkbook and
do it.”

Nervous heat flows up my back, and I instantly
sweat. I’ve seen Hayes go junkyard dog on people before, but he’s never focused
all of his angry energy at me.

“It’s not like you’d be getting a bigger office for
my benefit,” I say weakly.

“How long do you think I’ve fucking worked out of
this fucking office?” Once I shrug, he continues, “Do you think I never fucking
considered moving the fucking wall? Apparently you think I’m a fucking moron,
and only Queen Candy is fucking smart enough to think of such a fucking thing.”

His voice is loud, and the kids stop playing
outside. Feeling cornered, I cross my arms tighter and lift my jaw.

“Is there a brilliant fucking reason you haven’t
moved the wall, boss?” I say, forcing my voice to remain steady.

“Because I didn’t fucking want to!” he yells loud
enough to send Nightmare into a barking fit.

Hayes rolls his eyes and yells at the dog to calm
down. Nightmare obeys yet remains confused. He wants to protect his master, and
he isn't sure where the threat is coming from.

“Are you happy?” he growls at me.

“That you scared your dog? No, not really. I’m more
upset that you scared my kids. I want you to apologize, so they know you’re not
a monster.”

“Fuck you,” he mutters, walking to his office.

I hurry after him. “You better apologize to me in
front of them.”

“Or fucking what?” he says, leaning back in his
chair.

“Or I’ll quit.”

“Bullshit.”

“Apologize,” I say, shaking from the surge of
anger-fueled adrenaline.

“Only if you apologize to me in front of them
first.”

“Fuck you,” I say, stepping back. “I’m leaving,
Hayes, if you don’t apologize.”

“Then go.” Hayes jumps up and follows me into the
main office where I shove things into my purse. “You’ll be back once you’re
done throwing your fit.”

“I won’t come back until you apologize.”

“Then don’t come back. You’re replaceable.”

“Ha! You went through how many assistants before
me?” I say, laughing bitterly. “Good luck with the temps.”

“Good luck finding another job where you show up
whenever you want and bring your kids to work and get to fuck the boss.”

I glare at him, and he glares right back at me. My
hands ball into fists, and I want so badly to hit him. I want to pound his handsome
fucking face for making me feel disposable. He’s the one throwing a damn fit. I
dared to interrupt his strict schedule, and he’s freaking out.

The twins stand at the door with the dog. They’re
scared, and I see their hands balled into fists too. They don’t believe in
backing down either. I raised them to be tough enough to face trouble. Life
offers them nothing. They’ll have to demand whatever happiness they find.

Hayes looks at my fists and then my face. He seems
amused by my anger. Fuck, I think he expects me to hit him. I won’t because I
can’t win that fight. With our stalemate, I will win, though.

I refuse to apologize.
He’ll be the one to say the words. I’ll never do
it. Even if I end up with a shitty job, I won’t bow down to Angus Hayes. My
kids need to know they shouldn't take shit from people they care about. If they
do it once, it’ll be easier the second time, and then they’ll get used to doing
it. Eventually, they’ll wake up as someone’s bitch.

So I tell them to grab their school stuff and go to
the car. Hayes watches us walk out. He and Nightmare stand at the front door as
I pull out. The entire time, he thinks I’ll chicken out. Even after I speed
away, he probably expects me to call him later and play nice.

Hayes might get what he wants normally, but this is
one fight he’ll lose.

J
ackknife Casino is one of the places Moot wants to
visit now that he’s a free man. Enjoying rules, I rarely play games of chance.
I only choose to go with Moot because the idea of sitting alone at my place
isn’t appealing. The house feels too quiet.

I blame Candy and her need for noise. Or I ought to
blame the twins and their need to create noise which led to Candy craving it
even when they’re not around.

“We can eat dinner in the smoking lounge,” I tell
Moot while he sits down to a game of Texas Hold ‘Em. “They serve steak.”

Moot frowns, having never heard of the smoking
lounge. I’m not surprised since it’s a big rollers perk. I don’t shit much
money at the casino, but I have meetings there.

“They serve great scotch too.”

This comment gets a smile out of Moot. All he wants
since he’s been out is to eat and drink well, sleep on a big bed, and drive
fast. Freedom looks good on the man, and I try to enjoy a few hours of
gambling.

After a lucky streak, Moot surprises me by choosing
to stop before he pisses away all of his winnings. We retire to the smoking
lounge where only two other people are eating on a Sunday evening.

“Work is good?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t bitch
about his construction crew. I’m not in the mood for anyone’s drama when I’m
still smarting from Candy’s.

“It’s good, man. Feels great to get my hands
dirty.”

I nod and fall silent. Over the lounge’s speakers,
Toby Keith croons about lost love. I suspect Candy is a fan of the song. She
likes country music and plays it rather loudly at her desk. I’ve yelled at her
plenty of times to turn it down. She occasionally obeys but often doesn’t.
Candy handled my yelling well until she just up and decided to be a sensitive
bitch about everything.

“Heard your assistant quit,” Moot says, and I think
he wants to laugh at me.

“They always do.”

“I thought she was a keeper.”

“Me too, but fucking her was probably a mistake.”

“Only probably?” he asks, giving me an amused look.

“She’s a great fuck.”

Moot nods and his eyes light up when the food
arrives. After he digs into his steak and potatoes, he studies me.

“What do you want to happen with Candy?”

“Simple,” I say, puffing on my cigar. “I want her
to apologize for throwing a fit. Then I want her on her knees.”

“Didn’t you say you acted like an asshole?”

“Yeah, but she knows I’m an asshole.”

“Chicks have limits, man.”

I shrug. “She’ll break down and apologize.”

“Because she wants her job or she wants you?”

I frown at his question, and I’m shocked I hadn’t
considered it. When she comes back, I’ll never really know the true reason.
What if she does only apologize for the job rather than because she wants me
back?

“In the end, what matters is what you’re willing to
live without,” Moot says, going philosophical on me. “If you just want Candy to
be your assistant, you’re right that she’ll come back. It’s a good job, and she
puts up with your shit well. Now if you want her back as your woman, then you
ought to rethink your plan.”

“I’m not apologizing.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“I shouldn’t have to apologize.”

“Sounds good to me,” he says, eating casually.

“She overreacted.”

“Yep.”

“Might have been on her period. That was how
irrational she was.”

“Women are moody.”

“I’m right about this," I say too angrily.

“No doubt. You’re right about most things. Don’t
see why this time would be any different.”

“Candy is replaceable.”

“Everyone is.”

Puffing on my cigar, I realize I’ve gone too far.
While Candy did overreact, and she is a moody chick, and I shouldn’t have to
apologize, she is in no way replaceable. There is no one else in the world like
Candy. If another woman like Candy exists, I’ll never meet her. I’m not that
damn lucky.

Candy isn’t replaceable, but maybe I am. Hell,
she’d be fine without a man in her life. The chick went without sex for a
decade. She can do it again.

Fuck!
She can just show up to work one day and ask for her job back, and I’ll say
yes, and she’ll be happy for the paycheck. I’ll never touch her again, and
she’ll fucking skip through her life without a care in the world.
What in
the fuck about me?

“You bow to women a lot,” I say, and Moot grins at
me with a full mouth. “How would you handle this situation if you wanted to get
the bitchy part over with?”

“You’re going to have to apologize, big guy. No getting
around that.”

“That’s it?”

“Flowers couldn’t hurt.”

“Any particular kind?”

“There ain’t no designated apology flowers.”

“Well, I can shell out a few bucks for flowers and
say a few words. Problem solved.”

Moot looks at me for a moment, and I know he
disagrees. I wait for him to say something, but he chooses to return to his
steak.

“You need to enjoy life more,” Moot finally says
when his plate is clean. “Stop trying to control every damn thing, and just
smell the damn roses.”

“Do you think roses are the kind of flowers women
want?”

“You live in the same world as me, man. Why are you
asking questions like you’re an alien new to the fucking planet?”

“I don’t apologize to women.”

“Or anyone.”

Sighing, I nod. “True. So I don’t have any
experience with this situation.”

“All you got to do is ask yourself what you’d want
in the situation and then feminine-up the answer a little.”

Leaning back, I think about what I’d want if Candy
came to me and apologized. Somehow, I don’t think she’s sitting at home wishing
I’d give her a blowjob.

I imagine knocking on her door. She answers wearing
something sloppy and probably pink. Her hair might be damp from her evening
bath. I remember her saying she likes to take bubble baths and pretend she’s an
evil queen washing away the troubles of her reign. When she told me that, I
thought she was drunk at work. Candy noticed my expression and laughed until
she was bright red. Then she ran to the bathroom to keep from peeing herself.

Shaking off the memory, I imagine I’m at her door,
and Candy is frowning like I smell bad. I hand her the flowers and say the
words. What is the end game to that setup? Does she forgive me and I stay the
night and then…

What do I want from Candy?
This blowup we had might allow me to get her back
as an employee and nothing more. I have the opportunity to change the dynamics.
If I do, Candy will adjust. She’s stronger than most women and won’t cry
herself to sleep over me.

Despite my certainty she’d never stoop to such
theatrics, I let myself imagine her crying in her pillow over me breaking her
heart. I like this image better. She
should
be sad over losing me. I’m
the best fucking thing that ever happened to her. Well besides her kids, and
that’s the real dig for me.

If I let myself need Candy, I can’t only need her.
I will have to learn to need her kids, and that’s a lot of fucking need for me
to suddenly endure.

Can I love another man’s children?
My father did it, but only because he loved my
mother. Plus he knew me as a baby and a part of him probably hoped I was his.
Once he knew I wasn’t, he had already grown accustomed to me.

Do I love Candy enough to love her children as my
own?

Yes, I love Candy. No big shock for me on that
realization. She’s been under my skin since she walked into my office and called
me an asshole to my face. The woman is the right kind of beautiful, smart, and
tough. Those ingredients are in plenty of women, but never in the right amounts
to make me consider apologizing for doing nothing wrong.

Candy is the one, but I don’t know if I can be the
one for her. I like my life. I want her, but the rest is more complicated.

So I imagine myself at her doorway, and she
forgives me and takes the flowers and then what? She has me come inside, and I
spend the night and wake up to the sounds of children making too much noise. Is
that what I really want? Once I open that door, I can’t close it easily.

I’m not a coward, but I am a pragmatic man. I can’t
allow my heart to run the show. I have to think long term. Not for Candy or me,
but for the twins, I need to be certain. Kids don’t bounce back from rejection.

I again see myself outside Candy’s door. This time,
I imagine her angrily shutting the door on me or worse taking the flowers and
coolly saying she’ll see me at work the next day. I don’t know if I could
accept her indifference.

So I stand in front of her door with a bouquet of
pink roses in one hand and a bouquet of red roses in the other since I couldn’t
decide which one she’d like better. I knock on the door of the rental house and
wait to apologize even though I don’t think I’m wrong.

Candy answers, wearing a flannel nightgown. Her
expression tells me nothing. I’m flying blind, but I utter the horrible three
words I say to nearly no one.

“I am sorry.”