My Brother’s Locksmith Friend – Conklin County Daddies Read Online Lena Little

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
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I sense her frustration, but it’s damn near two in the morning. I don’t want to leave her, but I want to be sure there’s enough time to treat her the way she’s supposed to be treated. I want her first time with me to be at my house anyhow.

Still, I lean down to give her one more kiss before standing back to take in what I’m walking away from.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hendrix,” she says with a smile.

“Yes, you will, baby girl. Yes, you will.”

2

HAVANA

The longer I look at the minutes ticking away on my phone, the longer I don’t feel like moving off my bed to go to work.

There’s nothing waiting for me at that clothing boutique except a manager who thinks they’re running some high-end store in New York City.

So when the incessant pounding at my front door forces me to start moving, I have hope that it’s a reason for me to call out. Maybe it’s Hendrix coming back to finish what we started last night. I needed a 20-minute ice-cold shower to get the tension out of my body long enough for me to go to sleep.

Hendrix Haven is by far the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life. With his rugged good looks, I was all but panting the first time I saw him. Dear Lord. Everything about him screams masculine. But…my brother does contract work with him, so I’d never want to jeopardize Brody’s situation by throwing myself at his boss. At least, that was my initial plan.

Only, I see how much he wants me—from the way he looks out for me to the way his eyes devour me every chance they get. Each time he does, my insides twist and I feel like melting into a puddle on the floor. No one has ever looked at me that way. And it does something to me—not just something but a lot of things.

That forever stuff he spoke about makes me think about those couples on social media celebrating their 10th, 20th, and 30th anniversaries. That’s going to be us in a few decades. I’m sure of it. I just need Hendrix to understand that I feel this way too. I want him to let go of the notion I don’t know what I’m asking for. I know exactly what I want and that’s Hendrix. Him and only him.

Eagerness fills my legs as I move through my small one-bedroom apartment toward the front door where I swing it open to see someone who is not Hendrix Haven. Instead of a six-foot locksmith I want making me scream in ecstasy, there’s a six-foot greasy-looking guy who I’d cross the street to avoid.

Before I can say anything, my landlady, Lucille, pops her head from behind the man. “Hey, Van. This is Roy. He’s going to take a look at the sink and that leak you told me about.”

“Um, okay,” I sigh and pull out my phone before stepping out of the way to let both of them inside.

While I don’t even remember telling her about the leak, it’s as good a reason as any to text my manager, telling them I’ll be late.

Roy is standing in my small kitchen with his enormous toolbox on the ground. The grimy terry cloth towel he’s using to wipe the sweat off his brow drops onto it as he looks at the sink’s faucet drip.

My eyes dart between him and Lucille, who looks like she wants him to go as much as I do.

“So, I barely use the sink because it leaves a puddle in the cabinet. I think the dishwasher is fine and the air conditioning unit works when it feels like it,” I tell her as the heat decides to double with more people in the intimate space.

“I don’t deal with HVAC. Any issues in the bathroom?” Roy’s voice sounds like he chews rocks while smoking cigars as he clears his throat and eyes me from head to toe. The grin spreading across his face makes me want to kick him out, but I’m going to let him do his job.

“The shower drips,” I tell him, looking at Lucille as he makes his way through the apartment and into the only bathroom, just outside my bedroom door. I turn to Lucille and whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming this morning? And who is this guy?”

“Van, I sent you an email and I emailed Brody, too. This is Roy Jonas. He’s agreed to go over the entire building and fix all the small things before I have him tackle the stuff in the basement. He’s going to be the guy you call in case of emergencies,” she says.

Like hell I’m calling this guy when I have Hendrix’s number.

I can’t help but feel skeptical. He’s not in a uniform or anything, just a regular guy you’d see at a bar. A guy who’s moving around in the back of my apartment but stops just before entering my bedroom because my eyes are following him with every move he makes. He steps back into the bathroom where I hear him moving the shower curtain and fussing with the faucets.



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