Brats in Training 3: Dangerous Dusty (3 page)

“Just fill out what you can, and then we will go over what you have left blank.”

“That sounds easy enough.” Dusty turned, dotted the tip of the pen on his tongue, and then began to write. Alexander felt it was safe enough to leave the sub on his own. He was only filling out paperwork.

How could he harm himself doing that?

Walking back to his desk, Alexander began working on the files he had opened before leaving his office and being assaulted. He clicked away at the keys, snatching glances every once in a while at Dusty.

A maintenance worker knocked on the door and then stepped into the office. Alexander didn’t have to show the man what needed to be done. It was very apparent.

“I can help with that.”

“Sit!” Alexander barked the command. He didn’t need anything else in his office broken. “Finish filling out the paperwork.”

Dusty glanced at the worker and then back down at his paper. “I’m done.”

That was pretty fast.

Alexander walked back over to Dusty and grabbed the sheets, shuffling through them and scowling. “Dusty, you only filled out your address, previous employers, and references.”

“You said to fill out what I could.”

Alexander rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to alleviate the sudden throbbing between his eyes. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 3

Dusty studied Mr. Sheffield as the man glanced over his paperwork. He exuded masculinity and power, making Dusty want to feel those strong and confident hands all over his body. The man was every dang wet dream Dusty had ever had with a side of carnal lust and doused in liquid virility.

Dusty scooted his chair closer to Mr. Sheffield, inhaling the man’s expensive cologne. Gods, even the man’s cologne smelled good. It was light, musky, and Dusty wanted to lick the man’s neck just so he could get a closer smell.

“Let’s get this filled out, Dusty.”

“Okay, sir.” Dusty rested his chin in the palm of his hand and stared up at the most striking man to walk the earth. He was so busy daydreaming about what the tall and commanding man would be like in bed that Dusty hadn’t realized that his elbow was slowly slipping forward across the well-polished desk until he nearly collided with the powerful body.

“Sit up straight in your chair and pay attention, Dusty.”

“Oh, okay, sir.” Dusty was so hard from Mr. Sheffield’s command that he was hesitant. The guy would surely see his boner if he sat back. And he was quite sure having a boner wasn’t one of the job requirements.

Too bad, he could have filled that requirement with ease.

“Dusty, sit up straight.”

“Yes, sir.” Dusty slowly sat back, glancing down in his lap, and nearly groaned when his jeans outlined his worst nightmare.

He was hard as a rock.

But if Mr. Sheffield noticed, he didn’t say a word.

“Do you have any exemptions, Dusty?”

“Does Larry count, sir?”

Mr. Sheffield’s eyebrows shot up, but he quickly masked whatever emotion was he was feeling. “That depends on who Larry is.”

“He’s my guppy, sir.” Dusty glanced over toward Mr. Sheffield’s desk, wondering if the man would get mad if he got up and retrieved his helmet. He had already lost six of them, and he was sure Mr. Wheeling wouldn’t replace another one. It had the company logo on it in bright, neon colors. Dusty liked the colors, but the scratches and dings detracted from the lime green.

“You can’t claim a pet, Dusty.” Mr. Sheffield jotted something down on the paper and then paused. “You haven’t claimed him in the past, have you?”

Dusty slowly turned his head back around, swallowing hard when he saw the worried look on Mr. Sheffield’s face. He gave a slight shrug. “Maybe. I do take care of him, sir.”

Mr. Sheffield sat the pen down, turning fully toward Dusty, his brows pulled down so low that Dusty was surprised they didn’t connect. “How long have you been claiming Larry, Dusty?”

“Just on last year’s taxes, sir.”

Mr. Sheffield gave a long sigh as he grabbed the pen from the table. “You’ll have to amend last year’s taxes, Dusty.”

Whatever that meant.

“Besides pets, how many in the household?”

“Just me, sir.” Dusty laughed, and the laugh turned into a strange little snorkeling sound. He hoped Mr. Sheffield hadn’t heard that. “But Dizzy keeps me company. She’s a hoot.” He slapped his knee.

“And Dizzy would be?”

“My tabby cat, sir. She attacks any paper bag I bring into the house and then runs in and out of it like she—”

“Pay attention, Dusty.”

Dusty sat up straighter, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “Sorry, sir. Sometimes I get carried away talking about Larry and Dizzy.”

“That’s fine, Dusty. But there is a time and a place for such conversation. Right now we need to finish this application.”

“Okay, what’s the next question, sir?” Dusty leaned forward, gazing down at what Mr. Sheffield had written already. Man, the guy had some flawless handwriting. It was so neat that it looked like it was printed off instead of handwritten.

“You only have Dusty L written down as your name. I will need your full name.”

Dusty sat back, glancing down at his hands. He started picking at his fingernails. “That is my name, sir.”

“Your surname is L? Just a simple letter?”

Dusty could tell that Mr. Sheffield didn’t believe him. It was obvious in his questioning tone. And the man was right. But there was no way in hell Dusty was telling Mr. Sheffield his full name. He had caught so much flack over his real name over the years that Dusty put Dusty L on all of his applications. Mr. Sheffield was the first to question it.

“Can we come back to that, sir?”

Alexander cocked an eyebrow but nodded and looked back down at the paperwork. “We will get back to it, Dusty.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where is your apartment located, Dusty?”

“Oh.” That was an easy question. “It’s a block off of Fifth Street and Main Street. A redbrick building. I live on the third floor, sir.”

“The third floor? Is there an elevator?”

“No, sir. The elevator hasn’t worked since before I moved in, which is really too bad. Mrs. Jenson lives right below me and she’s way too old to be climbing those steps every day. They really should let her move into an apartment on the ground floor.” Dusty’s eyes widened when he saw Alexander’s fingers tighten around the pen in his hand. “Sir?”

“How many times have you fallen down the stairs, Dusty?”

Dusty let out a half-laugh, half-snort sound. “At least once a week, sir. The super keeps promising to put in a handrail but—” Dusty shrugged. “It just hasn’t happened yet.”

Dusty jumped when the pen in Alexander’s hand suddenly snapped, black ink spraying all over the table and the paperwork he had just filled out. He stared, wide eyed, at the ink as it slowly spread out over the paper, turning it a motley gray color instead of pristine white.

“Napkins, sir?” Dusty asked as he jumped to his feet and started scanning the office for something to clean up the mess. Somehow, he just knew it was his fault. He might not have been touching the pen, but still. Things like this just seemed to happen whenever he was around.

Dusty spotted a box of Kleenex on the side table situated between two chairs on the far wall. He started to run across the room to grab them when his feet slipped on a few remaining pieces of blue glass that the maintenance worker missed.

Dusty’s arms flailed in the air as he tried to keep his balance. Just as he started to go down, he felt someone grab his arm. Dusty twisted and reached for whoever was holding him. He grimaced when he felt Alexander lose his balance. A moment later, they both hit the floor with a solid thud.

Dusty slowly lifted his head, absolutely positive that he had just lost the job that Alexander had offered him. He was laying smack dab on top of the man, after all. “I am so sorry, Mr. Sheffield. I just wanted to get the Kleenex. This was all my—” The rest of Dusty’s words were muffled beneath Alexander’s hand.

Dusty cautiously raised his eyes to look up at Alexander’s face.
Oh hell.
The man’s face was dark and flushed. It was a deep red-colored flush, reminding Dusty of the color of a Tetra fish. They came in blue, too, but the red was prettier in Dusty’s mind.

Alexander slowly sat up, keeping his hand over Dusty’s mouth. “Not a word, Dusty. Do you understand?”

Dusty nodded.

When Alexander pulled his hand away, Dusty clamped his lips together as hard as he could. He really wanted this job. He liked his job as a courier, but it got really cold in the winter time and hot in the summer. Besides, he was tired of always crashing his bike. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a klutz inside an office building.

Dusty glanced around the office as Alexander climbed to his feet. Okay, maybe he could get into trouble in an office building as well. But he could try not to.

Dusty blinked when Alexander’s hand suddenly appeared in his line of vision. He tentatively reached out and grabbed it, but then let out a small yelp when he was yanked to his feet, and right into Alexander.

Oh, purple twinkies.

Alexander Sheffield had a hard-on.

And Dusty’s lower abdomen was pressed right up against it.

Dusty gulped and slowly raised his eyes up until they rested on Alexander’s cheeks. He wasn’t quite ready to look the man in the eyes. Not yet. “Do I still have a job, Mr. Sheffield?”

“Yes, Dusty, you do. However, I believe we need to amend some of your job requirements.”

“My job requirements, sir?”

“How much do you want this job, Dusty?”

“Oh, very much, sir.”

“I think it’s too dangerous to leave you on your own.” Dusty wasn’t sure it was a good thing when Alexander’s dark eyebrows lowered down over his face. “If you want this job, then I will require your services twenty-four hours a day. That means you need to pack your stuff up and move into my condo where you will be available whenever I need you.”

Dusty’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to move in with you?”

Chapter 4

Alexander couldn’t believe he had just asked Dusty to move in with him and he had just met the guy. Was he nuts? He liked order in his life. He liked everything in its place.

Alexander liked his sanity.

“Do all the assistants live with their bosses?” Dusty asked as he pressed the palms of his warm hands into Alexander’s chest, making the temperature in the room rise a few degrees.

“No, each head of their department has their own set of rules. What I require from you is very strenuous, in-depth, and time consuming. It would be better this way.”

Would it really? Alexander wasn’t sure, but the thought of Dusty harming himself just by walking down three flights of stairs was driving Alexander crazy. It hadn’t slipped his notice that Dusty’s helmet was banged up and full of scrapes. He just hoped the man wore the damn thing all of the time.

“Just so I’m clear, sir, are you going to pay me an hourly wage?”