n o a h

"My guy," I stand from my usual post at the end of the bar inside Gregory's pub.

Sumner, my best mate, arrives on the dot and lowers his head as he steps through the low beam archway to the only pub in this tiny village.

"Eh-oh," he greets and takes his normal spot beside me and signals to Pepper, the old as fuck bartender, for his pint glass. "And? You know I've been busting all day to know how it went?" Sumner doesn't hide his smile while Pepper drops the full pint on the glossed wood bar top and rests against his palms, clearly ready for me to spill the beans about the mysterious newcomer.

A laugh steals my breath, because fucking Hell. "She is fit. Fucking fiiiiiiitttt, mate."

Pepper, that is Vernon Colepepper, groans a smirk. He's very familiar with my rich luck of women and I'm sure he is reliving his youth through me and my raunchy tales of bedsheet romping.

Sumner expels a woosh of air and rubs his palms together, "Spill, bruv. What's she look like?"

Ms. Davenport plain and simple sucked the oxygen right from my lungs the second I saw her crash through the front door, but of course, I can't admit that. Not even to my best mate, I've got a reputation to uphold and becoming soft for some bird isn't on the agenda.

I'm fond of my Jack-the-lad reputation, keeps my 'romping' nice a tidy without any nuance of strings or cling-ons.

"Stunning. She looks expensive as Hell, but shite. Well worth the proper gawk."

Sumner drinks past the foam of his glass and gestures a hand requiring more details so I satisfy his mind's eye, "Brunette, petite, big tits, tight arse," I don't know how I managed not to drool down my chin when she showed me the property, house, and lake house today. Somehow, by the grace of God, I managed to keep it together.

Sumner's dark brows arch high and the dimples in his cheeks pop as he snorts and struggles to down his beer, "So a bit of you then, eh?"

A bit? More like the full fucking thing. Sum knows my type. "Jesus Christ," I throw a glance to Pepper, "I reckon she's a bit of everyone."

Well perhaps not Sumner. This lad might as well be celebate for how picky he is. Unlike me, who would nail anything that would bat an eyelash in my direction, Sum is a hard nut to crack--literally. I'm sure he hasn't busted a nut in over a year.

"What does she do?" Pepper asks filling John and Daniel's beers then circles around back to us.

"Not sure," looking the way she does, I'm sure she doesn't have to do a whole Hell of a lot, "whatever it is, it's the best I've ever got paid."

"To be fair, you haven't got paid yet, Noah. Just be sure she doesn't jerk you around, have you fix everything, then not pay you."

"God, Sum, you're such a buzzkill, mate. Ms. Davenport seems legit. She had me sign a contract and everything."

Mentioning the contract eases his worries so he takes another drink and settles into the barstool.

"What's her full name? Did you learn why she's here?" He asks.

"Cartier Davenport, and no. I thought until she hired me I'd keep everything business-like." A smug grin grows across my face and I don't make an attempt to hide it.

Pepper drops his head and shakes it with a smirk while Sum kneads his black brows with his fingers, "Christ, Noah. You're going to get yourself into trouble. For one, she's your boss-."

"'Fit' boss, we mustn't forget the 'fit' part."

He rolls his green eyes and continues, "She's your boss -- employer, and isn't she old? Come on, have some bloody control."

"Age doesn't matter when we're fuckin, eh? And, besides, it's not like she's some wrinkly old hag this woman is-- honest to God-- a ten-ner."

Sumner begins to argue with me, but stops abruptly, "A ten-ner you say?"

I chuckle, "Yeah, I've got your attention now, don't I?"

Between boys, Sumner and I rate birds. Sure, it's a shite thing to do, but it is what it is. And never in the entire span of our friendship have I ever given a chick a ten.

I may be known to bed some low numbers on occasion, but I am aware of my whoring. I'm twenty four years old, I like to shag, I'm doing the world a favor by spreading the love around to the lower numbers.

"Tens don't exist," Sumner states, in full denial.

"Take your arse down to the old house then. See for yourself." He'd bloody thank me, that's for certain.

He contemplates something, surely not my offer to go to the cottage, of course. But I'm sure he's stunned by the number I've thrown out for Cartier Davenport.

"If she's such a stunner, where is her husband -- or boyfriend at least?"

I laugh and shrug a shoulder, "Who gives a flying fuck about that."

Sum shoots me a glare and I roll my eyes, "C'mon, that was fun!"

We're both thinking about my little cruise to cougar-ville for my seventeenth birthday with Gretchen Fredricks and how I narrowly escaped with my life when Mr. Fredricks came home to find me balls deep in his missus.

Pepper chuckles and fills my pint. He knows what we're both thinking. That was the talk of our town for some time.

"Just be smart, Noah. I'm keen ta knowin it's especially hard for you," Sumner moans and I clap his shoulder and smile ear-to-ear. A dis on my smarts equals to Sumner being down for being my go-to for helping me get out of trouble.

Granted, I've got no idea if Miss Priss will even entertain the idea of a side job with heavenly perks but I intend to feel her out.

🌻

"Um, excuse me. But I asked to have the logs stacked near the back door." Ms. Davenport appears half hanging out the back door while I tense and a growl builds in my throat.

It's hot and her stupid fire wood is in the way of fixing the thatch she desperately needs done, so I've spent the last two and a half hours loading it into a wheelbarrow and moving it to a cleared patch further in the backyard.

I exhale a calming breath, and plaster a fake smile on my face and turn to her, "It needs moving. If you want the thatch work done, I can't have shite in my way-."

"You'll move it back then."

She steps back inside, and my fake smile trembles into a tight line while I grind my molars together.

I can not believe I wanted to fuck this one at the start of last week. Ms. Davenport is the most infuriating human being on the face of the planet. Every chance she gets she makes my life working on her place Hell.

If the pay wasn't what it is, I'd set this place on fire and laugh maniacally as it burns to the ground.

"I'll move it where I bloody move it-."

Suddenly she's there glaring at me from the opened back door, "Excuse me," she chirps again, "Did you say something important?"

Again, the fake smile taints my lips as rage flexes my core muscles, "No, not at all."

"I didn't think you did." Her hazel eyes burn into me and she slowly closes the door, "Thank you for being such a hard worker, Mr. Turner. I appreciate it. So much." The sarcasm drips from her sweet voice acting like sharp nails on a chalkboard.

Then, she disappears inside.

"Fucking twat." I grumble under my breath, careful this time she doesn't overhear then return to carrying the load of pre-cut logs to the pile in the back garden.

I dump it messily, then slide my hand into my pocket and start my music, and begin wheeling back to the backside of the house to carry on with moving the wood.

What I've learned of Cartier Davenport this last week is she's basically the Ice Queen incarnate.

The woman is so frigid, I've yet to see her even smile at anything, much less smile at myself. She also has a comment about every little thing and reckons she knows better than me in the repair and fixing department.

Five O'clock never seems to come fast enough. After slaving away working on Master Davenport's shite house working on the lake house, hidden away in the back woods doing things my way is a welcome reprieve by the end of the day. I'd be sure the path and bridge she wants erected leading from the main house down to the lake house will be the last thing I fix to keep her and her snide comments at bay.

"Mr. Turner?" She sounds again, from the back door and this time the growl breaks free and I drop the wheelbarrow and turn to face her with a scowl.

"What is it now?"

"You're music is really loud, and God-awful. Could you turn it off, please?" Her chocolate brown hair bounces in the curls as she hangs out of the door and the cleavage I see from here is annoyingly mouthwatering.

I want to fucking kill her.

I pause the music quickly and dig forcefully around my other pocket grabbing my wireless earbuds.

"Oh, excuse me-" if she says excuse me one more time I'm going to fucking explode, "I want you to be able to hear me if I need something. That isn't a problem for you is it?"

My tongue curls over my teeth and I suck loudly, knowing already she cringes at the habbit, "I'll be glad to work in silence, m'lady." I throw the overly-sweet sarcasm back at her.

Her eyes narrow, not oblivious to my back chat.

Her crimson red lips slip into a demure smile and I nearly keel over due to the air she's stolen from my lungs, giving me a glimpse of her beautiful face smiling with her dark brows etched angrily together.

Fuck me. She's a bloody devil-woman.

First thoughts on Noah? Lol he's a 24 year old guy aka a slight asshole lol but genuine.

Thoughts on Sumner? (I've got some plans for him)

Let me know what you think! I love to hear!

CC