José sighed. He wasn't really paying close attention to Laird. Instead he was doing the math inside his head; he and his team would have to do a whole eight floors, twelve offices per floor. "Well I may have to bring in some freelancers but I think we can do it. And about this guy you met last night. I think I might pay him a visit after I leave here. The sooner I can find a replacement the better. It'll be one less worry on my plate."
"Leroy is still looking for a place to volunteer. His
school has this volunteer certificate thing he wants."
"Oh right, he was saying he needs to do forty hours of community service. Why doesn't he do it with you?"
Laird shrugged. "Jamal offered to help him out too but he said he wanted to do something in your line of work so if you have a place for him…"
"Well of course I have a place for him," José said with an arched brow. "That's my favorite godson!"
Laird laughed. "He's your only godson."
"Technicalities." José smirked and batted a wrist at him.
"Okay then. Let's get some contracts and things out of the way…"
Three hours later, José finally left Laird's home.
Business talk was over long before that but he'd stuck around playing some video games with his friend until Laird's husband Race got home. José sped past Anatolis in the center of town and kept on going until he reached the former Kenzie house. He sat in the front seat of the car, eyeing the place for a minute. The front door was new. The last time he'd visited he was a child but he could still remember the old black, beaten-up door it used to have.
The windows were also new—old man Kenzie had boarded them up something fierce all those years ago. The large tree
to the left of the yard was still there and looked as out of place from all the others as ever.
José pushed up from the front seat, stuck his wallet into his pocket, and slipped the keychain over his right index finger. He jogged up the front steps and knocked on the door. While he waited, he turned and looked to his left.
There used to be a swing there, hanging from a tree. The tree was gone and so was the swing. He wondered fleetingly what happened to it but knowing old man Kenzie, he probably had it hacksawed off because it was blocking his view or something just as idiotic.
The front door creaked slightly and José spun around. He'd expected some old man with a beer belly.
Instead, the guy who stepped forward was stunning. He was stacked, maybe about five-nine, and towered over José.
He had no hair on his head. His facial hair was neatly cut, dark brown. His clear blue eyes shimmered with curiosity as he looked at José.
"May I help you?"
José cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to bother you,"
José said, proud his voice didn't break. "My name is José DeLuz. I am here to speak with you regarding your painting."
"Er…"
"I am friends with the Anatolis brothers," José
clarified.
"Oh… Laird, Rajan, and Savaro! I'm Ronin McCall.
Come on in."
José thanked him and walked by him through the door. His palms were sweating so he kept them pressed to his thighs as he looked around the foyer. The walls were bare.
"Don't mind the mess. I just moved in and haven't had a chance to unpack much yet," Ronin explained. "This way."
José followed, staring at the man's ass. It was covered by a tight pair of blue jeans and it was perfect. He licked his lips as he reminded himself he was trying to get this man to work for him, so he couldn't blow this. Still, he couldn't help wondering if the hair on Ronin's body was as dark brown as the beard covering his face. Did he have hair scattered all over his chest with perfectly hard nipples peeking out? José wanted to find out.
He quickened his steps into the room and found boxes piled in the center. Ronin picked one up, his muscles flexing beneath the dress shirt he wore, and José bit back a moan. Ronin cleared away the boxes before extending his hand to a seat.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked.
"No, thanks. I just ate and I'm feeling a little full."
Ronin laughed softly. "All right. What would you like to talk about?" He sat on the edge of an empty desk.
His thighs were perfectly visible through the jeans as they pressed against the desk. His legs were spread, giving José the perfect view of what was between them. But José couldn't stare. He fought his lust and kept his gaze locked with Ronin's.
"I own an interior decorating business. Along with the services I offer my clients, I offer them original paintings to go with their properties. These paintings are one-of-a-kinds. The painter we had on staff decided to go find himself in Africa. I just signed to do a rather big job and I am in desperate need of an artist. When I told Laird, he suggested you."
"How big of a job?"
"Eight floors, twelve offices each…"
"Plus bathrooms and lobby?"
José nodded. "And small kitchens on each floor except the lobby. There's a small staff room in the lobby for security too. But those shouldn't need more than about two a piece."
Ronin eased from the desk, to José's joy and disappointment, and walked to a box marked office things.
He opened it and soon returned to the desk with a pen and a note pad. He scribbled silently for a while then met José's
eyes.
"Well, I guess I could help you out. We would need
