Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
They were loose, short, and had these slits on the sides that went all the way up to the waistband.
They did fantastic things for her legs and ass, and the slit on the side was practically inviting me to run the palm of my hand up along the outside of her thigh and around to her ample ass.
Her feet were bare, and each of her toes were painted a bright shade of fire engine red.
She also had toe spreaders between them, letting me know that she’d just done them herself.
Fuck.
She was goddamn cute.
“You wanted to treat me to dinner?” She placed her hand over her heart, once again bringing my attention to her nipples.
“Yes,” I replied, the rasp in my voice an octave deeper than it usually was. “I don’t like that you didn’t tell us.”
She winced. “I’m not usually one to bring attention to myself.” She hesitated. “But, just sayin’, y’all don’t normally do anything for any of the techs. That’s the reason the last one quit. She was getting treated like shit by everyone and no one even acknowledged how much work that she did.”
My brows rose. “What?”
She winced. “I, um…”
I pushed into her apartment, my hand going to her lower belly to force her out of the doorway so I could allow myself entrance.
“Please,” I said as I walked to her tiny kitchen table. “Tell me. It’s not something that we can fix if we don’t know it’s an issue.”
She sighed and walked to the counter and hopped on, her legs folding up underneath her while she hugged her legs to her chest.
“No one sees us,” she admitted softly. “It’s like, y’all only acknowledge us when y’all need us, and then when we’re not needed, we blend into the background. No one talks to us, sees us, acknowledges us. I have to admit, I didn’t bother telling anyone it’s my birthday because the lady that quit right when I started quit over not getting a cake.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, then took a seat on her dining room chair before saying, “Do I act like that?”
“You don’t act any way.” She shrugged. “You’re mostly off to yourself.”
That was true.
“And when you bought Dru her burgers last year, I think that you only heard through the grapevine that it was her birthday. No one else had done or planned anything, so you just bought food the next time that you were on shift.”
“That’s exactly what happened.” I grimaced. “I heard that it was her birthday, and someone missed it the previous shift. So I ordered burgers and a cake from my sister-in-law’s sister who I knew would make it for me last minute.”
“That was really sweet,” she said. “Not that you wanted that acknowledgment or anything.”
I flashed her a grimace.
She snickered. “You don’t like being known as sweet?”
“I don’t like people expecting sweet when I’m not,” I admitted.
“Anyway, you’ve never acted like that at all toward the techs. But honestly, I think it’s just your personality. You don’t act very welcoming to anyone.” She shrugged.
I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she assured. “You don’t have to be welcoming. It’s your right as a person to be who you want to be. At least you’re not setting a double standard. I would rather be ignored and neglected by someone that ignores and neglects everyone rather than having it shoved in my face that they’re willing to go above and beyond for someone else, someone with a better degree than I have, than me.”
When she put it that way, it did sound pretty bad.
“I’d offer to talk to the floor about it, but that would be me actually putting forth effort into socializing, and I’m deathly allergic to that,” I admitted.
She snickered. “I just ate some cake.”
“The cake that I gave you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she divulged. “Did you know that that particular chocolate cake is by far my most favorite in the world? I know that sounds super weird to say that cafeteria cake is my favorite, but there’s just something about the cake.”
“I agree.” I paused and winced, hoping that she didn’t pick up on that.
“What?” she asked, letting me know that she had. “I thought you didn’t like the cake there?”
“Well,” I confessed. “I kind of do. A lot. But you looked like you’d enjoy it a whole lot more than I would.”
She smiled. “I could eat a whole pizza on my own.”
I stood up and lifted the lids of the three boxes. “I had no clue what you’d like, so I got pepperoni, cheese, and a supreme.”
“I like them all,” she admitted as she came over. “You have to learn to like all kinds of things when you’re only given food that someone else gives you out of the goodness of their heart. Except mustard. I can’t stand the stuff. That was on my burger today and I wiped it off.”