“Hi, Jenna. I’m good, thanks. I was just looking online for a few things for the ball, actually.”
“It’s coming along spectacularly, isn’t it?” I smile.
“It sure is. What can I help you with?”
“We’re going to need some man power to help carry in the tables and chairs we’ve rented. Would you know where we can find some beefy guys who might be interested in helping out for an hour or two on Friday night?”
“Sure do,” she answers immediately, surprising me.
“Oh! That’s great. Who are they? Do you have a phone number for them?”
She rattles off a phone number and I quickly jot it down. “It’s the Mayhem boys. Roam told me last week that they’re happy to help with anything. I’m sure this won’t be a problem. Just give him a call.”
“Okay. Thanks, Leslee. I’ll speak to you soon.”
We hang up and I stare down at the piece of paper on my desk.
Well, at least it’s not Switch’s number.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up the phone and dial.
“Yo,” a deep male voice answers.
“Good afternoon, it’s Jenna Mason speaking from Joe’s Bar.”
“Hey, Jenna,” he greets, sounding like he has a smile on his face.
“I hope you don’t mind me calling out of the blue like this,” I start, but he quickly cuts me off.
“Don’t mind. What can I do for you?”
“Leslee Johannson passed your number on to me and she said you and your boys may be able to help us with some heavy lifting as we set up for the ball.”
“No problem. When?”
“Uh, well, tomorrow afternoon. I’m so sorry for the late notice,” I wince.
“We can be there. About three pm?”
“That would be fantastic. Thank you, so much. I really do appreciate it.”
We end the call and I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. Thankfully the boys can help out, otherwise I wasn’t sure what we’d do. The tables are really heavy and I think we’d need five or six girls to carry each one. It would have taken forever. At least with the men helping, two of them would only be needed to carry each table.
“Knock, knock.” Someone taps on my closed office door, accompanying their knock with the words.
“Come in,” I call politely.
The door opens and my heart stutters. I quickly school my features and silently plead with heart to regain it’s regular beat, instead of the thumping rhythm that is currently slamming into my ribs.
“Good afternoon, Switch.” My voice is even, thankfully.
His lip twitches and his gaze roams slowly over my body, causing my blood to heat even though he’s across the room from me.
“Jenna,” he rasps. “Are you busy?”
I shake my head, despite knowing I should probably have said I was tremendously busy.
“Mind if I come in?”
“No, please, do. Take a seat.”
“You called Roam?” He asks, still standing just inside the door.
“Ah, yes, I did.”
“From now on, you need anything, you call me,” he states, cocking his eyebrow challengingly.
“Pardon?”
“Anything at all. You call me. Understand?” He walks forwards, shoves his hand in his pocket, pulls out a piece of paper and slaps it on my desk. My insides clench at the domineering tone in his voice, but as he drags his hand slowly from the table, my eyes catch sight of the thin gold band and my veins turns to ice. I know he’s married, and I know he’s working on leaving his wife, but that fucking wedding band just pisses me right the fuck off.
Why does he even wear it? Am I fool? Has he been playing me? Is this some game to him?
No! No. I know Switch and I can see the torment in his eyes. I know how hard this is on him. I just need to be patient. I promised I would wait, and it’s only been a few weeks. I need to give him time.
I clear my throat. Not wanting to be rude, because his club is a major sponsor in the fundraiser and I am at work, but really? Really?!
“Switch,” I start, my tone warning. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to be calling you, given our situation.” I whisper the last part like it’s some big conspiracy. Totally ridiculous, I know, but it’s not a situation I want to be known. It’s not even something I want people thinking they know about.
He gives me a look, deep and thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly and then he nods and turns, leaving without another word.
My breath leaves my body in a rush and my whole body seems to slump when I know he’s gone.
God, I’m fucking ridiculous.
How can one man have such an effect on my entire soul? How is it possible for him to seemingly control my body temperature with one look? This is crazy! This entire situation is fucking crazy. Perhaps, my mind is over compensating for the fact that I haven’t had much male attention lately…or ever.