Feast of Saints
fuck was his staff? He could defend a small country with his security budget, yet they’d left little Lilly to schlep her gear into his house. Jake touched the icon on his cell phone that summoned his driver, Wil, without having to call him. A GPS app automatically notified Wil of his location.
    Stepping to the open trunk, he shouldered the cabbie aside, grabbed the two, heavy, five gallon buckets and started up the steps.
    Lilly met him halfway down, “Here, let me help you with that,” she said. “Those weigh at least fifty pounds!”
    Jake smirked at the idea that he needed her – in those boots – to help him haul whatever was in the buckets. His pointed look at her overall size and getup turned into a laugh when he recognized Edward Scissorhands on her novelty shirt. He’d thought her quirky style was interesting in the booties and gold short-shorts at lunch on Friday, but this was even better. No wonder Ty, a huge Tim Burton fan, liked her so much. He could definitely see what the eleven year old saw in her, and beyond.
    Wil pulled the front door open in a rush just as Jake reached the top step. Jake set the buckets down and directed Wil to take them to the gym bathroom. The size of a luxury hotel spa, it had multiple vanity sinks, two showers, a large utility sink and a laundry facility. There was also a hair cutting area complete with barber’s chair in a large tiled space with a glass wall that looked out over the pool and tennis courts.
    Wil struggled to lift both drums, and then had to give up and just make two trips. Jake trotted back down to take a second plastic box from Lilly. It was empty, but large and unwieldy for her. He stacked it on top of the other box at the top of the stairs and told her to follow Wil. When she would have taken the other drum, Jake shook her off.
    “Leave it. Wil will come back for it. I’ll meet you down there after I change.”
    “I can carry something,” she said, reaching for the large box.
    Jake placed his palm on it, shaking his head.
    “There are two flights of stairs between here and where you’re going. I don’t want you trying to carry this down my stairs in those boots.”
    He watched, amused, as she made a face at him before she spun on her heel and followed Wil. He liked watching her stomp away almost as much as he’d liked her bent over.
    Stopping in the kitchen on the way to change clothes, he greeted Kwanga, his housekeeper, and asked her to prepare a lunch for two.
    “We’ve got some work to do that may take a while, so make it something simple that will keep,” he instructed her.
    In the master suite, Jake looked around his expansive closet. Lilly had told him to wear something that could get ruined. Ordered him, as he recalled. Pulling a pair of well-worn running shorts and a plain, white T-shirt out of a drawer and setting them on the padded center island, he changed quickly. He didn’t bother with shoes, wondering why she needed molds of his feet. At the thought of her bending over his feet, he felt the tightening in his groin he had experienced watching her from the car. Changing his mind about the thin, revealing nylon running shorts, he opted for a pair of faded denims instead.
    When he entered the tiled room, Jake congratulated himself on his foresight. There she was, bent over again, over the now open Rubbermaid tub. Without straightening, she twisted her hips to look at him and waved her hand around the room.
    “This is perfect. I saw a bench in the gym. Can we pull it in here?”
    “I’ll get it,” he said, tearing his eyes off of the seam of her jeans. When he returned, she was placing an organized tray of what appeared to be color-coded, white plastic toothpicks on the counter. He sat in the barber’s chair and had to adjust to keep from uncomfortably crushing his half hard-on. Looking in the mirror, he tried to remember his last good date. Gauging by his hair trigger with Lilly, he decided he needed to get out more. Work

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