lies

two

Justin

I offered to put this shit together over two weekends, but Heidi was having none of it. She didn't want to come in on her days off, as she's big on downtime to improve productivity. What-fucking-ever.

Never mind that I don't want to be in the same room as Savannah Dean, which is currently where I am.

Heidi was stupid to employ her, only giving her a job because she heard some fucking sob story, no doubt. I'm proud of my sister, but we could keep her business in the family. One of our cousins could be doing what Savannah is doing here.

I ball my hands and breathe deeply.

Savannah bites her lip and gestures to the boxes with her hand. "Where do you want to start?"

Though she's always been boring as hell and a meek pushover, the coffee thing excluded, she is without a shadow of a fucking doubt the hottest thing I have seen in my life. Slim figure with a few curves in the right places, long dark blonde hair—which was almost brown when I saw her in winter, I remember—and big grey eyes that remind me of the sky before a storm. Someone with the personality of a Monday shouldn't look like that.

Heidi keeps telling me to give her a chance, but what's the point? She's not the type of girl I'd hang out with. I prefer someone who wouldn't jump if I called their name. I don't know why, but she seems so emotionless and shady.

"Clear a space, and open the first box, I guess," I reply.

"All right." Spinning, she heads over to the boxes and gets started.

I watch her as we clear a space big enough to put together this massive storage unit. Every move is thought out and precise, but she does almost bump into me a couple of times.

"Sorry," she mutters, shifting around me again.

For fuck's sake, she apologises every time we almost bump into each other. Almost. How pathetic is that?

Her arm grazes mine, and I jerk my head back. She spins around, her hair fanning around her back. Shit, her hair smells like coconut.

Abandon ship!

I grit my teeth. Clamping my mouth shut, I haul a large box out of the way and ignore her. She moves over to the other side of the room and keeps her eyes down, seemingly trying not to look at me.

I shove a stack of paperwork in a box half-full of other paperwork. They really need to get a handle on their filing.

Savannah moves materials and boxes of needles and thread out of the storeroom. Her long hair falls in her face as she bends down to pick up a small stack of fashion magazines. I now know how it smells, too.

My dick responds, stirring at the thought of that hair splayed out over my thighs.

Get it together. She probably doesn't even do blow jobs.

I bet her face would turn bright red at the mere mention of sucking a dick.

She picks up a large box, her fingers digging into the bottom.

It's probably too much for her to carry. Why she doesn't put it down and leave it for me, I don't know. I fold my arms and watch her shuffle awkwardly to the door in her heels.

Ask for fucking help!

I'm not that much of a dickhead that I wouldn't help her. But, apparently, I'm big enough of a dickhead to watch her struggle with it.

Why doesn't she ask?

She turns to head out the door, and that's when I see it. A roll of fabric sticking a little too far out on the floor. I drop my arms and open my mouth, but before I can move an inch or mutter a word, she's falling.