"It's my dad's business. My brothers and I work for him and someday we'll take it over."
"So you're a business owner?" She smiles as she saunters over to me. She runs her finger down my chest. "That's very ambitious. I like an ambitious man."
It's clear why she came here, but I'm not interested. Working construction, I've seen this played out so many times I've lost count. The rich girl who wants a change from the stuffy rich guys she usually dates so she seeks out a blue collar guy to spice things up? I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. She's just looking for sex and there's plenty of guys who will give it to her. Like Jake, my brother. He actually seeks out girls like this, saying they seem all prim and proper, but get them in bed and they're up for anything.
Jake would jump at the chance to be with this girl, but not me. I'm not looking for a one-night stand. I'm not even looking for a girlfriend. I need to get over my anger toward Marissa before I even think about getting into another relationship.
"Let's go out tonight," she says, her hand resting on my chest. "My father's having a cocktail party at the club. You can come as my guest. We'll stop by, have a drink, then see where things go from there." She runs her tongue over her lips. That should turn me on but it doesn't. Not even a twitch in my shorts. Her daddy comment is what killed it. She's hot, and just minutes ago, I admit I was attracted to her, but using me to piss off Daddy? I hate that shit. I've watched this happen with guys on my construction crew as well as my brothers. And when it happened to my brothers, I was pissed. Because for girls like this, it isn't about sex. It's about finding a guy she thinks is stupid and poor and unworthy of her so that her father will get angry and give her attention, or do whatever she asks in exchange for her never going out with guys like us again.
This girl seemed nice when I met her earlier, but now? I don't like her, and I want her to leave.
"Sorry, but I'm busy." I go around her and up the stairs to the deck.
"How about tomorrow? I could pick you up at seven."
Pick you up. She has to pick me up because she wouldn't be caught dead in my truck. I'm guessing she drives an Audi. White. Convertible.
"What kind of car do you have?" I ask.
She smiles. "A white Audi convertible. You can drive it if you want."
I chuckle under my breath. "I really need to get back to work on this deck, but thanks again for the brownies. "I'll see you later, Car—" Shit. I almost called her Carrie and I don't think that's her name.
"Katie," she says, correcting me. "And you're not really turning me down, are you?" She pouts her lips.
"I'm not the guy for you, Katie," I say as I wipe down the deck chairs. "There's a strip mall being built along the freeway coming into town. Why don't you head over there?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" She sounds offended.
"I'll see you later." I go inside the house, hoping that'll make her leave. It does, and when she's gone, I finish wiping down the deck chairs, then go back inside to get cleaned up. It's five-thirty and I have to get ready for dinner. I'm not sure if Callie will show up, but if she does, I don't want to be all sweaty.
At six, I set the pizza out on the deck table along with some napkins and paper plates. I found some real plates in the cupboard but they're coated in dust and I didn't have time to wash them. Same with the glasses, so I bought plastic cups. Since I don't have a working freezer, I filled a cooler with ice, which is where I'm chilling the cans of pop and bottles of beer.
It's a great night, weather-wise. The sun is out, the sky is blue, and there's a gentle breeze blowing.
"Am I early?" I glance up and smile when I see Callie there. For some reason, this girl makes me smile. She's changed out of her work uniform and is wearing denim shorts and a fitted red t-shirt. And I gotta say, Callie in that red t-shirt is a hell of a lot sexier than what's-her-name in the slinky red dress. I felt a twitch in my shorts just now. Or maybe more than a twitch.
"You're right on time. Have a seat." I pull out a chair for her.
"You're pulling out my chair? I thought this wasn't a date." She smiles but it's a nervous smile. Is that because she thinks it's a date?
"It's not a date," I say, hoping to calm her nerves. "I was just being a gentleman. My dad told us boys to always help a woman with her chair. Open doors. That type of thing."
"Some girls would think that's sexist."
"Are you one of those girls?"
She shakes her head. "No. Although you carrying me in my house was a little caveman-like. I'm not helpless. I can walk."
"True, but you were bleeding all over the place. I was worried you'd stain the concrete."
She laughs; a real laugh, not a nervous laugh. "I hadn't thought about that. Good thinking."
"You need to put your leg up? I can move a chair over."
"No, it's a lot better now." She checks her watch and that nervous look reappears.
"Do you need to be somewhere after dinner?"