Earning Her Keep by Wyatt Dani

Author:Wyatt, Dani
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

Dane

She’s late. It’s 7:01 and 22 seconds and she isn’t here yet.

I’m fucking annoyed. At least, a part of me is. My anxiety monster is running in circles, wondering why I’m not losing my mind.

Yet.

For some reason, I have no problem giving her the patience and grace that I refuse to give myself.

7:02. Alright, fine, yeah, it’s pissing me off a little. Patience running thin. I pace around the dining room, whiskey in hand, making sure everything is set in my checklist in my head.

I set the dinner menu around what she loves to eat. When she started the job, I had Ethel ask her about six hundred questions, including allergies, food sensitivities, and a whole fucking page about her favorite foods.

So the menu tonight starts with arugula with candied walnuts and goat cheese, with a lemon vinaigrette. She just said she liked salad. Iceberg with ranch dressing, to be precise, but man, I just want her to have something better. Main course will be roast chicken with mashed potatoes—and asparagus. She didn’t mention asparagus. But I love asparagus and Ethel makes a mean fucking asparagus with Hollandaise.

Pure fucking heaven.

Well, no. Emily is pure fucking heaven but Ethel’s asparagus is close.

And for dessert is chocolate lava cake with cookies and cream ice cream. Not my usual, but I can deal. For her? For that sweet face and that cherry I’m taking very soon? Anything.

I glance back at my watch and it’s 7:03.

I’m about to lose my fucking mind when the door swings open. And there she is. In a forest-green satin dress I picked out for her. No bra. She’s wearing a thong I picked out for her too; the lace makes ripples in the satin. The dress hugs her curves just fucking right. On her feet are four-inch neon pink Jimmy Choo peep toe pumps that I picked out, too.

She my own personal fucking wet dream. All innocence and little girl sweetness and at the same time, like sex incarnate.

She smooths the fabric nervously as she walks in, oblivious to her power. “Hi,” she waves, her voice a whisper.

“You’re late.”

She blinks up at me, rocking forward on her tiptoes. “I’m in heels. And there are lots of steps.”

I can’t help but smile down at her. “Three minutes I can forgive.”

“But not five?” she plays with a smirk then smiles again. Her dimple puckers her cheek.

“Not five. I’d send the cavalry.” I clear my throat. “No, I’d be the cavalry.”

“Hmmm.” She sweeps her hair to the side. Lifts an eyebrow. “So does that mean I get punished if I’m five minutes late?”

“Yeah.”

“’Mmmm-kay then! Be back in two minutes,” she chirps, and turns to go on a little skip-hop, teetering off balance on the heels like she’s going to run away.

Cute as fuck.

My deep belly laugh takes me by complete surprise. But she’s not surprised; she doesn’t know how fucking rare it is. And her giggle dances with my laugh, filling this big dining room with the sounds of happiness for the first time in as long as I’ve lived here.

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