“Not that young. I’ll be nineteen in a few weeks.”
“Shit,” he eyes me. “I thought I was going to be trouble for you.”
I double tap my brows. “I’m tricky like that.”
“You are trouble,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “I can tell.”
“I’m harmless.”
“No, you’re more,” he shakes his head slowly. “A lot more.” He takes a beer from the cooler and pops off the top, his eyes never leaving me. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I say honestly, my stomach rumbling from the smell permeating the yard.
“Should be ready soon.” One of the guys playing cards on the porch waves him over, his curious eyes trained on me. “You okay here for a second?”
“I’m good.”
“Be right back.” He stalks off, and I zero in on his ass. A feminine laugh sounds behind me and I turn as she approaches. She’s beautiful, with long blonde hair, baby blue eyes, and in my opinion, the perfect physique. Petite with soft curves. My last growth spurt puts me hovering above her at 5’9. I got my blue eyes and reddish-brown hair from my father, and work with the slightly disproportionate build I inherited from my mom. What I lack in my border B cup breasts I make up with a double D butt.
She grins. “Can’t blame you, you could bounce a quarter off that ass.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“A little,” she plucks a cider from the cooler, twists off the top and takes a sip. “But we all stare at that ass. I’m Layla.”
“Cecelia.”
“So, how do you know Sean?”
“I don’t. I met him at orientation today.”
She wrinkles her nose. “You work at the plant?”
“First shift starts tomorrow. Just moved here yesterday.”
“I only worked there for a few years after high school, and I couldn’t stand it. Most everyone here works there or has at some point. The owner is an asshole, though. He lives in a castle somewhere around here.” She turns to me. “I get the townies having that job, but why would you take a job there?”
“I’m the daughter of the asshole.”
She tilts her head, her clear blue eyes widening slightly before darting past me in the direction Sean left. “No shit?”
“Yeah, and trust me, I’m dreading it.”
“I already like you,”
she takes another sip of her cider and glances around the yard. “Same shit, different day.”
“They do this often?”
“Oh, yeah—” she flutters her fingers as if the subject isn’t worth entertaining. “So where did you move from?”
“Peachtree City, just outside of Atlanta.”
“Why would you want to move here?”
I shrug. “Single parents, and they passed the baton this year.”
“Sucks.”