Every Shade by Nora Phoenix
3
It had been stupid to meet with Nick Malcolm. The man was Langley’s father, for fuck’s sake. And yet Alexander had forced himself to go through with the meeting, even after Langley had unexpectedly shown up at the gas station. What other choice did he have? None. Nothing. Nada.
But still, shame had sat heavy in his stomach, even though Nick Malcolm had been nothing but friendly and professional. He’d listened to Alexander, had asked him a ton of questions, and had made notes. That was a good sign, right? At least he took it seriously. He’d given Alexander a warm handshake, assuring him someone from his firm would be in touch. That had been yesterday, so surely, he wouldn’t hear anything yet today. Those things took time, and it wasn’t like he was in a position to make demands.
A shiny red truck pulled up and parked in front of the store. Alexander’s heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to stay calm as Langley got out and bleeped his car locked. Why the fuck did he still do that? This was Northern Lake. Nothing ever got stolen here. In the seven years he’d run the gas station, he’d had one case of shoplifting, and that had been some tourist kid from the city.
Langley sauntered into the store. Alexander frowned. Langley was dressed…differently. Gone were the tight jeans that sculpted his ass and made his legs look a mile long. Instead, he was wearing dress pants…with dress shoes…and a dress shirt with a tie.
“Good morning, Mr. Wingard,” Langley said, beaming Alexander a smile so broad it had to make his jaw ache.
Mr. Wingard? What the fuck was that about? And what was with the outfit? He opened his mouth to snarl a response, but then it hit. Langley was dressed like a businessman…like his father. He’d come back to town…and he had an MBA. Oh please, no. Please don’t let him be the—
“My father sends his regards. He’s asked me to take on your case.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity Fuck.
He wanted to slap him. Pull back his fist and knock the cocky little shit out cold. And then kiss him and fuck his brains out, but he shoved that thought down. “I wasn’t aware you worked for your father. Otherwise I would’ve made it clear I didn’t want to work with you.”
“You’re hurting my feelings, Xander.”
Well, at least he’d switched back from Mr. Wingard to Xander, and Alexander wasn’t sure which one he hated more. “I didn’t think that was even possible, considering how thick your skull is.”
“My skull and my skin are two different parts of me, Xander. But I’ll overlook it for now. I’m excited to work with you on this. All I need for now is access to your books and a time and place we can meet to discuss everything in detail. Dinner at your place at eight, when the store closes? I’ll bring the food.”
Alexander opened his mouth, then closed it again when a car pulled up at the pump. Mrs. Mosely. She’d need his help. Maybe Langley had a point that they needed to have this conversation in private. “Fine. I’ll email you access info to my online accounting.” Fuck knew he had to change his password first. No way in hell was he sending him his current password—QB26, after Langley’s jersey number in high school. Talk about embarrassing. He wasn’t even sure why he’d picked it…and then had never changed it.
Langley handed him a business card. “Perfect. That’s my personal cell.” He tapped the number with his index finger. “Call me any time, day or night.”
Alexander ground his teeth. “Leave, would you? Before I shock Mrs. Mosely into a heart attack by slapping that grin off your face.”
Langley merely winked. “See you tonight.”
How the hell he managed to make that sound sexy and husky, Alexander didn’t know, but he totally did. Cocky little fucker. Someone ought to teach him a lesson, but it wouldn’t be Alexander. He’d stay as far away from him as he possibly could.
He put on his gas jacket, as he called it—his old winter jacket, which always smelled of gasoline. No sense in ruining all his clothes when he helped customers. Mrs. Mosely was still in her car, lowering her window. “Thank you, Alexander. I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” she said in her soft, creaky voice.
“My pleasure, Mrs. Mosely. Fill her up?”
Please let her say yes. That massive Lincoln town car she drove had a gas tank big enough it would buy him groceries, especially since she tipped royally. “Yes, dear. Thank you.”
Halle-fucking-lujah. How sad was it that he was happy to have a customer who filled up their entire tank? Didn’t that perfectly sum up the whole problem? He shook his head at himself as he took the cap off her gas tank. No need to let himself get sad all over again. Nope, given the choice between being depressed and being angry as fuck at Langley, he’d take the latter any day.
