Chapter 1

"Can I help you with anything else, sir?" I ask after hauling the final load of lumber into the back of his '94 Ford F-150.

The customer gives me a toothy grin, patting my shoulder with wistful gratification. His gray hair falls in thin waves across the top of his wrinkled scalp, and he smacks his dry lips together, leaning closer to tell me something I'm sure isn't worth hearing.

"You know, boy," he says, coughing directly into my face, "when I was your age, I used to work in the fields. I had me some hard working hands, just like you do."

Well hey – that's a great story, old man. Not only does it have zero point, but also you've managed to cough God-only-knows-what type of disease into my face while telling it. Awesome.

I shake the man's hand away from my shoulder, forcing a tight smile across my lips.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?" I ask for the second time, doing my best to comply with my work's motto of 'the customer always comes first.'

The man gives me a throaty chuckle. "That'll be it, sonny. Next time I'm in, I'll be sure to tell that boss of yours what a great job you're doing."

"Thank you, sir," I say, not bothering to mention that since we're getting a new boss it really won't matter.

In fact, the old CEO of this store – The Great Outdoors - has turned the entire business over to some new yuppie with a shit-ton of money and probably no sense of how to run a business. If my mom wasn't so adamant about me having a job, I'd throw in the towel too. It's not even that I don't want to work for someone new; I simply don't want to work. At all.

I mean, c'mon. Can you blame me? My focus shouldn't be on working. It should be on important things - like upholding my reputation of being the school's biggest play boy for one final summer.

Scratch that. The school's best looking play boy. Yea, that has a much better ring to it.

The old man gives me another pat on the shoulder before hobbling to the driver's side of his car. I wait until he's safely inside, giving him a final, congenial wave before jogging back into the store. The automatic doors open for me, giving way to a woosh of cool air. Immediately my arms break out into dozens of goosebumps.

While rubbing away the harsh change in temperature from my forearms, I start making my way towards the back of the store to unload the new shipment of rain coats onto the racks. Because it's a Monday evening, the store is fairly sparse. Most of our business occurs near the end of the week or beginning of the weekend.

Not that I'm complaining though. I'd rather work on my own, doing my own thing as opposed to dealing with annoying ass customers. In fact, it's safe to say there's nothing worse than dealing with a clueless customer, someone who –

"Excuse me?"

My fingers tighten around the metal hanger in my hand. What are the odds? Sonuvabitch. I smack the hanger back onto the rack and turn in the direction of the masculine voice from behind me. Bold, dark eyes stare back at me, their gaze so intense that my fake smile is replaced with a hesitant frown.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

The customer eyes me from head to toe, a very unnerving gesture that leaves me more unsettled than I care to admit.

"I'm looking for coal," he says, and although the timbre of his voice is gentle, there's a demanding urgency beneath it.

"Aisle five," I answer automatically, pointing over my shoulder towards the front of the store.

Without giving him a second glance, I turn back to my raincoats. I can feel his eyes on me when I bend down to get another hanger. Fuckin' weirdo. If I was out in public, I'd tell buddy to get lost and leave me alone. Because I'm at work, however, I have to keep my wits intact.

The gentleman clears his throat, and he does it in a way that's unmistakably asking for my attention for the second time. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, mentally counting the minutes until I get to leave this shit hole.

"Was there something else you needed?" I ask through clenched teeth.

The man raises a brow at me, and his face hardens with what looks to be indignation. He brings up one of his hands to scratch alongside his jaw, his fingernails scraping against the light stubble. This time I study him a bit more closely, noting that his face is long and his cheekbones are high, the combination giving him an almost-intimidating look.

Well – intimidating for most people, I should say. Callum Greene doesn't get intimidated. In fact, the word 'intimidation' shouldn't even be recognized in my vocabulary.

"I don't know the store well," he says. "Would you mind taking me to aisle five?"

I suppress an eye roll. A sense of direction is one trait I thought all men possessed on some level. Apparently all men can't be held to my caliber.

"Right this way," I mutter, not bothering to check if he follows.

I meander through the various aisles until the two of us reach the end of aisle five. I waver near the end of the aisle, but eventually decide that I should take him directly to the item of choice. If his intelligence is anything like his sense of direction, he'll be here all day looking for his damn coal.

"Here we are," I say, pointing to the different bags of coal near the middle of the aisle.

"Thank you."

"Yea."

He tears his eyes away from me and studies the bags of coal.

"Did you need anything else?"

The man continues to glance at the small selection, his harsh features seeming to become even more pronounced under the florescent lights. He taps his fingers against his chin softly.

"Your name, please."

My name? What the hell – is this dude actually trying to hit on me? Well, he'll be sorely disappointed if he is. I'm a fan of titties and genitals that don't come equipped with bananas and oranges.

Instead of answering, I pinch the area of shirt surrounding my name tag, thoroughly irritated that I have to answer his question simply because I'm on the clock.

"Callum," I reply flatly, shaking the name tag on my shirt so he'll take notice.

"Callum," he repeats, testing my name on his tongue.

"Yea, Callum. Need anything else?"

My address? Phone number? Social security? Idiot.

"No," the customer says, shaking his head. "Thank you, Callum."

I walk away without giving him another second of my time. An irritated sigh slips past my lips, and I stuff my hands in my pockets. Only another half an hour and I can go home, scroll through my contacts, and select whichever chick I want to bang tonight until the wee hours of the morning.

Hmmm. Who do I want tonight? A blonde? Brunette? Cheerleader? That one emo chick with the surprisingly nice ass? Decisions, decisions.

"Pssst! Callum!"

The only other co-worker close to my age, Kansas, hisses for my attention. I glance over, doubling back to hear what she has to say. She leans over her register, tugging her shirt down to draw my attention to her perky, large breasts.

I don't mind admiring the view as I approach, but I'll never act on her advances. Mixing business with pleasure is never a smart move. Plus, I slept with her older sister a month ago who's twice as hot as she is.

Why waste time with a downgrade?

"What's up, Kansas?"

Kansas glances over her shoulder, making sure there's no one to overhear what she's about to say. She licks her lips and leans closer to me – close enough that I can smell the mix of coffee and spearmint on her breath.

"The new CEO started yesterday," she whispers. "Mr. Blake Benson. Have you met him yet?"

"No."

"Oh well I met him this morning," she says with a longing sigh. "He's dreamy."

"Good story."

I roll my eyes and start heading back to my pitiful rack of rain coats when Kansas grabs my wrist frantically. She gives me an excited smile, pointing to the left. When I follow her finger, my eyes land on the same man I helped only minutes ago, carrying two bags of coal towards the register.

"There he is!" she squeaks. "That's him!"

"Who?"

The annoying customer who can't find his way around a convenience store?

"The new CEO," Kansas explains, pure awe in her voice. "Mr. Blake Benson."