Wanting My Assistant

Chapter 12

"If we place some more rooms here, then we can maximize the amount of private rooms on the third floor." I state, pressing my finger against the blueprints for the last floor of the strip club. Dawson looks over at me, then glances back at the blueprints. "But," he queers, pointing to a few lines I had drawn lightly to emphasize my idea, "The walls would be too close together, and the doors would open into each other. It would be too cramped."

A sigh leaves me as I slump back in my chair, staring at the blueprints. Everything is all over the place. We can't seem to get the private rooms right. There is always something in the way or interfering with the motion of the rooms. Dawson turns his chair towards me, facing me completely as he leans his weight back into the office chair.

   My lips part softly as my eyes trail his figure slowly. He has that masculine spread, his arms crossed across his chest, his white button up shirt wrinkling with the movement as he leans back in his chair. His red eyes pierce me, those eyes trailing me up and down slowly. His jaw is tight, the well taken scruff that trails over his jaw neatly kept. Freshly shaved. His hair is messily neat, if that makes any sense at all. His biceps flex as he lets out a groan, cracking his neck.

   "What about—" I get cut off when the door to Dawson's office gets slammed open to reveal—A laugh almost passes my lips, Jack.

   Dawson groans, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, "Fucker." He curses not so quietly under his breath.

"Sup Dawn!" Jack exclaims loudly, grinning from ear to ear as he saunters his way into the office in a well fitted black suit. He glances over at me, those big brown eyes full of mischief. He winks at me and a laugh leaves me. I glance over at Dawson to see him scowling at his best friend, glaring daggers at him. Jack just throws me another goofy smile and another laugh leaves me.

   My eyes flicker over to Dawson, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes aflame. "Get. Out." Dawson grits at Jack, a vein in his neck bulging. Jack just cracks another grin and walks over to the desk. Dawson groans out annoyed, closing his eyes and then opening to shoot more glares at Jack.

"Hey Jack," I greet, giving him a little wave. The grin on his face never disappears as he places his hand on the front of Dawson's desk, leaning forward. "Arctic," Jack smiles back at me.

"Out." Dawson snaps at Jack again. However, Jack doesn't move. Just leaning on the desk and glancing at Dawson before back at me.

   I look over at Dawson and he's glaring at Jack still, almost like Jack murdered his best friend. A gentle sigh leaves me, before I turn back to Jack, "What are you doing here?"

   Jack turns his attention to me and grins again. "Why, I came to offer lunch," he claims. At the mention of food my stomach grumbles. Embarrassment washes over my face, turning it away to hide the blush on my cheeks.

Dawson lets out a heavy sigh from beside me. He's probably scowling at Jack. "Fine."

Worry gnaws at my stomach. I've been so good at keeping my eating to a minimum. I'm supposed to go to visit my parents and brother in a month and a half, and every time I've gone over there I've been called fat, saying that I eat to much.

That pizza yesterday night was probably a horrible idea. I need to be extra careful this week.

I'm determined to prove to my parents that I can limit what I eat. That I can look beautiful.

I look back up from my lap and see Dawson already standing, his arms crossed across his chest. The famous scary scowl rested on his features.

"You guys can go without me, I had a large breakfast." Jack looks at me with questioning eyes and Dawson freezes. Physically stops moving.