Page 17 of Dirty

“I’m on my bike,” I said, for some odd reason hoping that my response would change her mind.

She squeezed my leg and smiled. “I haven’t been on a motorcycle in forever.”

I carried a half-helmet in my saddlebag, and Alexandra knew it. If I said I didn’t have a helmet for her to wear, I suspected I’d be called out on my claim.

“I mean, if you…if you want more,” I stammered.

“Let’s go.” She stood. “It’ll be fun.”

I forced a smile and stood, wondering the entire time what might have happened if Alexandra hadn’t showed up.

Now that she was there, however, I had little interest in Lucy. I tried to convince myself that my concerns with Alexandra were more about her well-being, and less about anything else, but was left wondering just what it was that I was feeling.

“I guess we’re going to get some wine,” I said.

Alexandra locked eyes with me and then took a slow drink of wine. She didn’t say anything, but I stood and stared back at her, wondering if she had chosen to, what she would have said.

The last thing I needed was to stick my dick in a girl who wasn’t old enough to drink, needed a lifetime of therapy, and was the daughter of my high school crush.

Yet.

The strength that oozed from her pores intrigued me to no end.

The entire time we rode to the liquor store, I couldn’t clear my mind of Alexandra.

SIX

Lex

I clutched my purse tight in my hand and stared back at him in disbelief. “So, you’re saying that you can’t use me because of one incident? One?”

Short of his salt-and-pepper hair, he appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Because of it, I couldn’t decide, and stared at him wondering. It really didn’t matter, but it bothered me so much I wanted to ask.

His fitted navy suit and stark white button-down made it look he was attending the Academy Awards ceremony, not managing a seafood restaurant.

He inhaled a shallow breath and then sighed. “That wasn’t what I said, Miss Hart. I stated that based on your reason for termination from your last employer, I’m choosing not to put the establishment at risk.”

“Risk?” I arched an eyebrow. “Because of one incident?”

“I called the manager of your previous place of employment while you were waiting.” He pushed my application to the side. “I’m choosing not to hire you because of your reason for termination.”

“I’ve worked since I was sixteen. Five years,” I said, trying to hide my anger. “There was one incident. I was never late. I was a model employee for five years. Five. Never late, never sick. Then, I didn’t show up. Once.”

He leaned forward. “This wasn’t a pattern?”

He’d cracked open the door of chance, and I planned on barging in. I set my purse aside, let out a breath, and gazed into his eyes. “No, sir. I had an unfortunate incident occur, and it prevented me from going to work. Actually, it prevented me from doing anything. I was incapacitated for almost two weeks.”

“Oh.” He paused, appearing interested in hearing more. “I see. And, through the course of this incident, you were incapable of calling your employer?”

“I was.”

He pushed himself away from his desk and relaxed into his chair. “Giving your employer warning of your need for time off is not only polite, it’s necessary. It takes time to organize a replacement employee.”

“I’m well aware, sir.”

His eyebrows raised. “What happened?”

“Pardon me?”