After Hours Attraction
Auteur·e
Kianna Alexander
Lectures
18,8K
Chapitres
18
HarlequinOne
Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the Migos track flowing through her speakers, Ainsley Voss pulled up to the curb at Carter G. Woodson Academy, joining the long line of cars in the pickup lane. It was just before four thirty on a Friday afternoon, and she expected her eleven-year-old son, Cooper, to appear at any moment. Baseball practice always let out on time because Coach Tyler Rigsby was a stickler, with a family of his own to get home to.
A few minutes later, a stream of students who participated in various after-school enrichment activities offered at the academy began to stream out through the glass-paneled double doors. She scanned the crowd, smiling when her gaze landed on Cooper. His dirt-streaked baseball uniform looked like ten or twelve other kids’, but his sideways cap and the bright orange backpack slung over his shoulder made him stand out among his peers. He was chatting with two of his teammates and didn’t seem aware of her presence. She started to honk the horn but refrained when she remembered his whining the last time.
As the two other boys split off in different directions, Cooper looked her way. As he walked up and got into the car, she looked at him in the rearview. “Hey, honey.”
“Hey, Ma.” He threw his backpack onto the seat next to him and buckled his seat belt. “Practice was cool. I know you’re gonna ask me that.”
She chuckled. “Okay. What about the school day before that?”
“It was okay, too. I was bored out of my mind in Social Studies, but other than that...” He shrugged in that aloof adolescent way.
“Gotcha.” She pulled away from the curb, inching along as the line of cars snaked toward the exit. Mindful of the signals from the crossing guard, she asked, “Anything else you want to tell me?”
After a few moments of silence, he said, “Yeah, actually. I need some stuff.”
Ainsley wanted to sigh but held back. Whenever Cooper uttered the phrase I need some stuff, she knew she’d be bidding a sad farewell to a wad of cash. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“Well, first, Coach says I need to replace my cleats ASAP since the soles are starting to come off. Then we have that field trip to DC to go to the Smithsonian in like two weeks. Did you forget?”
Making the left turn into city traffic, she cringed. “Sorry, Coop. I did forget. How much is it again?”
“It’s like two hundred since we’re staying overnight. And the money and the form were supposed to be turned in today, but Mrs. Rush gave me until Monday.”
Damn. There goes girls’ night out. “Is there anything else? Or is it just the cleats and the trip?” Lord, please let that be it. My wallet is crying real tears.
“It’s only one more thing. Can you put some money on my streaming account? So I can download that new Lil Boosie? I promise I’ll get the edited version.”
Now, sitting in the thick of Atlanta traffic and mentally calculating how much of her hard-earned money she would soon part with, Ainsley felt the subtle throb begin in her right temple. “I guess I can put a few dollars on there, but that’s really all I can spare, Coop.”
“Oh yeah. Bryce asked if I could go to the movies tonight with him. Can I?”
Bryce Redford, son of her neighbors Fitz and Bebe Redford, was Cooper’s best friend. The two boys were thick as thieves, studying together, playing sports together, and whiling away the hours with comic books and Minecraft marathons. She rubbed her temple, careful to keep her other hand on the wheel and her eyes on the road. “Yikes, Coop. I just dropped a stack on your semester tuition, plus those class valentines. I’m not made of money, sweetheart.”
“I know, Mama. I’m sorry I need so much stuff.” His tone sounded contrite.
Guilt squeezed her heart. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I think you can go, but I’m not sure I can give you snack money.”
“That’s okay. Bryce is using his birthday money for snacks.”
She sighed, unable to hold it back any longer. Sure, some of these things were wants, not needs, but she had no desire to get into that with him right now. Honestly, Cooper didn’t ask for much. And he was a good kid. He studied hard, made good grades and stayed out of trouble—with the exception of the occasional youthful lapse in judgment. Southwest Atlanta held all kinds of trouble for a young boy his age to get into, and yet, despite his lack of a male figure in his life, he kept his nose clean. She was proud of him, and the whole reason she worked as hard as she did at 404 Sound recording studio was to make a good life for him.
By the time they got home, she was in full-blown headache mode. She entered the house and headed straight upstairs to the medicine cabinet for ibuprofen. Popping two of the pills with a handful of water from the sink, she flipped off the light and walked to her room to change. Once there, she kicked off her black suede pumps, then got out of the lavender button-down blouse and black pencil skirt. Donning a pair of leggings and an oversize Disturbing Tha Peace sweatshirt, she tucked her feet into a pair of bunny slippers and headed downstairs to make dinner.
She was at the stove, setting the oven to preheat, when Cooper bopped in, his white buds in his ears. She had no idea what he was listening to since he tended to silently mouth the lyrics rather than singing or rapping aloud. Walking toward her, he popped one bud out. “Are you cooking?”
“I was about to put in a pizza. I thought we’d have some salad on the side.”
“It’s cool, Ma. Ms. Bebe’s gonna get us burgers on the way to the movie.”
She reached into her waistband pocket. “Here’s ten for your ticket.”
He took the folded bill. “Thanks, Ma. I’m gonna go ahead over there.” He gave her a dutiful hug and kiss on the cheek, popped his earbud back in and danced his way out the back door.
Ainsley put the pizza in the oven and dropped into a seat at the kitchen table. While the pizza cooked, she opened the budgeting app on her phone, adjusting for all the things Cooper had added to her plate today. The results were not good, and she could feel a frown creasing her face. At this rate, I’ll be selling one of my kidneys online. It only served as another reminder that it was time for her to move up at work. She’d been executive assistant to Gage Woodson, chief operations officer at the fabled 404 Sound recording studio, for the last five and a half years. She knew the company like the back of her hand, and that’s why she had her eye on a management position in human resources. If she could snag the job, it would come with her own office, parking spot and a sizable raise. The raise was the most enticing thing, based on her current situation.
I love my son—I swear I do. But the boy is costing me a mint!
She knew she was more than qualified for the position. But there was one problem: Gage. Her handsome yet incredibly closed-off boss. She’d been taking care of his demands for so long, she didn’t know if anyone else could, or would, put up with him. Deep down, she felt a sense of loyalty to him, one that was likely tied to her raging crush on him. Yes, she’d been lusting after her boss pretty much since she’d accepted the position. So far, though, practicality and his tendency to stay locked in his office had kept her from acting on her feelings. How would he feel about her leaving her job as his assistant? Knowing Gage, he’d be annoyed at her for the inconvenience of having to replace her. Still, her dedication to Cooper trumped everything. If she got the job, she’d take it...and Gage would just have to figure it out.
Gage Woodson stifled a yawn as he flipped on the lights in his home gym at promptly six fifteen Saturday morning. While he did his best to stick to his workout routine, he didn’t know if he’d ever think of himself as a morning person. Dressed in gray sweats and neon-green sneakers, he headed straight for the elliptical machine. Putting in his headphones and turning on his workout mix, he started pedaling.
He’d been on the machine about ten minutes when his baby brother, Miles, strolled in. Dressed in a black-and-white-striped tracksuit, he was sipping green juice from a plastic cup through a straw. “Morning, bro.”
“Late as always,” Gage quipped, raising the difficulty level on the machine just until the point his thigh muscles started to feel it. Keeping up with the pace of the classic Goodie Mob song in his ears helped him make the most of his workout. “What the hell are you drinking?”
Miles chuckled. “Power smoothie with liquid aminos. Gotta make it count, you know?” He climbed onto the recumbent bike next to him and started it up.
After thirty minutes, the two of them switched machines. Gage pedaled the bike a bit slower than the elliptical now that his thighs were protesting in earnest. Once they’d completed an hour of cardio, they headed to the weights.
Gage lay on his back on the bench while Miles set the weights on the bar. “You sure you can press 250, bro? That’s your body weight plus like fifty mo’.”
Gage rolled his eyes at his brother’s teasing. “Just set me up, Miles. Not everybody’s arms are weak and spindly like yours.”
Miles shook his head but did as he asked. As Gage lifted, Miles spotted him, and after twenty reps, Gage set the bar back in the bracket. “Any further questions?”
“Nah, you made your point.” Miles traded positions with him. “But I’m not like you. So you can go ahead and bust that weight down to 180. I know my limits.”
After they finished working out, the two brothers sat on Gage’s screened back porch, protein shakes in hand. Mopping the sweat from his brow, Gage took a long drink from his shake. “Who wrote up the preliminary report on quarterly spending?”
“My lead accountant. You know, Kali Ramirez.” Miles looked his way. “I signed off on it, though. Why do you ask?”
“I just can’t get over that ten-thousand-dollar loss we took based on my actions.”
Miles rolled his eyes. “Nobody blames you for that. At least, nobody in finance.” As a chief financial officer, Miles managed the budget for the entire company. “It’s not your fault, man.”
“Yes, it is. I was stupid.” He’d never forgive himself for trusting his ex-girlfriend the way he had and still felt responsible for replacing the funds she’d embezzled. “Why’d you list the loss as discretionary?”
“Kali did that. I approved it because it didn’t fall into a cut-and-dried category like accounts payable or receivable.” Miles waved him off. “We’re just splitting hairs here, Gage. It’s all semantics.”
“I know, but...”
“Nah, bro. No buts. It’s Saturday. Can you just stop talking about work for like five minutes?”
Gage cringed. “Sorry.”
“I know it’s not your fault you’re so uptight. I guess you get it from Dad. But the least you can do is try not to give in to it. It’s the weekend, nice weather and everything, and your ass is wound up tighter than the security lines at Hartsfield–Jackson.”
As much as he hated to admit it, his brother was right. He’d always had a hard time disconnecting from work. His job as chief operations officer came with a high level of responsibility to his family, his employees and the shareholders, and he didn’t take that lightly.
“Listen, though. I got a Tinder tale for you.”
Gage shook his head. “Don’t tell me you put your profile back up. I thought you said all you get are gold diggers?”
“That was before. This time I put up a picture in silhouette and gave a very vague description of myself and my work.” Miles rubbed his hands together. “I had six hits in two hours. Went out with this fine, thick shawty last night.”
Gage listened to his brother spin a story about drinking at a bar before heading to one of the downtown Atlanta hotels with his “thick shawty,” but his mind kept wandering back to work. Or more specifically, back to his gorgeous and extremely efficient executive assistant, Ainsley Voss. She had a body built for pleasure, a beautifully symmetrical face and silky dark hair. Yet, in the five-plus years he’d worked with her, he’d never approached her that way. She was just too good at her job, and he couldn’t risk ruining it by asking her out on a date. His embezzling ex had also been a 404 Sound employee, and in the three years they’d dated, he told himself it was fine since she worked in another department. Well, that had blown up in his face in a spectacular way, and now, he was simply too skittish to make that mistake again.
Still, that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about Ainsley. She kept her hair up in a bun on top of her head most of the time, with a sharp-line bang straight across her forehead, grazing her perfectly arched brows. In his fantasies, he’d undo that bun and let the dark riches of her hair fall around her shoulders. He’d run his fingers through it, inhaling the scent of fresh flowers that always seemed to follow her. Then he’d graze his fingertips along the hem of that fitted pencil skirt and...
“Gage!” Miles snapped his fingers. “Did you hear what I said, man?”
He shook his head, reluctantly returning to reality. “No, sorry. What?”
“I said, she had triple Ds, bro. Triple. Ds.” He made a juggling motion with his hands.
Gage laughed. “Miles, you’re a hot-ass mess. And what happens now that you’ve met her and she knows who you are?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll probably see her again, just based on the strength of that rack.” He laughed. “Nah, I’m kidding. She seems like a sweet girl, and I’ll text her in a few days to see if she wants to get together again.”
Shaking his head at his brother’s antics, Gage finished off his shake and set the cup on the wicker coffee table in front of him. He remembered the requisition forms he’d left on the corner of his desk and cursed under his breath.
Miles frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”
Knowing how his brother would react if he brought up work again, he shrugged it off. “Nothing. Just remembered something, but it can wait.”
“Cool. Listen, you wanna hit up that pancake place for breakfast?”
“Yeah, we can do that.” They did this almost every weekend—work out, then pig out. “But first I’m about to hit up the shower. Can’t be going out all sweaty.”
“Of course not. Ain’t no Woodson man ever going out like that.” Miles stood, stretching. “I’ll use the downstairs while you use your master, then we’ll change and head out.”
Gage followed his brother back inside. “Sounds like a plan.”
