“I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier and I wanted to break the ice a bit,” she says easily. I hear cars buzzing by in the background, along with the usual chorus of honking that comes with traffic in New York City. “I realize my part in you having a rough start, but I hope I didn’t ruin your day.”
“You don’t have the power to ruin my day.” I don’t realize how harsh my tone is, but I won’t take it back. Even if I feel a little stab of guilt in my long-dormant heart.
She answers my gruffness with the softest, sweetest little giggle. It sounds like fucking tinkling bells or some shit. I hate how it eases the tension in my shoulders and makes my heart clang against my ribcage.
“I beg to differ, Mr. Sloan.”
Fuck me, every time she calls me that I want to jump through the phone and strip her naked. I have no clue what she looks like, but that doesn’t seem to matter to my unruly dick.
“I happen to have three very expensive and pristinely clean suits that could easily find their way to a Goodwill.”
I growl and open my mouth to yell at her, but she continues.
“Kidding!” Juniper says with another little laugh. “I wouldn’t give your suits away. Especially after talking to that sweet old man and getting you a discount.”
She’s teasing me. I can’t say that’s ever happened before. The rest of her sentence catches up to me. “Mr. Santori? Sweet? Did you go to the wrong address?”
Juniper sighs, though I think she’s more amused than upset. I shouldn’t know that about her, but I feel connected to her somehow. She’s intriguing, that’s for sure. It’s been a long damn time since anything or anyone has interested me.
“I went to the correct address, thankyouverymuch,” she says with all the attitude she can muster.
Why doesn’t that piss me off? I told her I expected her to do her job without sassing me. Then again, she told me I have ridiculously high expectations.
“And I had a chat with Mr. Santori. Honestly, he’s not that scary. Grumpy, for sure, but you just have to know how to get him to open up. Find some common ground, you know?”
“And what do you and a seventy-year-old man who owns a dry cleaning business have in common?” I didn’t mean to ask the question. It just slipped out. Clicking and unclicking the pen in my free hand, I wait for her response. It irks me, how much I want to hear her voice.
“Italy!” Juniper exclaims. I can hear her smile. It’s absurd, I know, but true. “Did you know Mr. Santori immigrated to America when he was just sixteen? I’ve always wanted to go to Italy, and he was eager to tell me about his home country. Plus, now I have the inside scoop on the best hidden gems in Milan.”
I grunt, not sure what to do with her words. Mr. Santori is notorious for two things. First, owning the best and fastest dry cleaners in the city. And second, for not speaking to his customers. Most people think he either doesn’t know English or never cared to learn. Others think his store is a front for the mob and he’s sworn to silence. Now I know the truth. The old man likes people as much as I do. He also seems to have a soft spot for snarky, nosey women.
“Anyway, I have good news. I floated the idea of a rewards program by Mr. Santori. You know, like coffee shops have? For every ten drinks you buy, you get one for free. Only, in this case, it would be articles of clothing.”
“Hmm,” I hum, trying to sound bored. Truthfully, it’s impressive. I can’t let her know that though. It’s her first day, after all. I wouldn’t want my new assistant getting a big head.
“He agreed it would be a great way to reward returning customers and to incentivize others to keep their business with him.” She pauses as if waiting for my praise. The fucking crazy thing is, I want to give it to her. I don’t, of course, but the desire is new and terrifying. “Anyway, you’re the first customer to receive the discount. Mr. Santori actually gave me your entire order for free since I helped him come up with the idea.”
“What? Free?” Who the hell is this woman and how did she make that happen? I mean, I know she just told me, but I can hardly believe it.
“Yeah, that’s what I just said,” she teases.
“What did I say about sassing me?” I need to get things back under control.
“I believe you said you expected me to perform my duties sans sass. But I went above and beyond, don’t you think? Doesn’t clearing a six-hundred-dollar dry cleaning bill earn me just a little bit of sass?”
The corner of my mouth tips up in the hint of a smirk. Goddamn, this woman.
“P.S., six hundred dollars? To clean suits? You could buy a new one for that price.”
“The suits cost ten grand each.”
I hear her quick intake of air, and I imagine her clutching her imaginary pearls. Then I imagine all the sounds she’d make if I stripped her down and ran my tongue over every inch of her body. I’d stop her rambling with a devastating kiss, filling her mouth with eager strokes of my tongue until she’s too weary with desire to talk back to me.
“Well, every little bit helps,” Juniper responds once she’s recovered. The way she says it makes me think it’s a favorite phrase of hers. Maybe one she tells herself over and over again.
An insane, overwhelming need surges through me, clogging my throat as a growl sits trapped in my chest. I don’t want her to just scrape by. I don’t want her collecting little pieces, I want her to have the whole damn world.
Jesus. I should fire her. This is dangerous, unchartered territory.