The Storm Series, page 16
Feeling myself already giving in, I asked, “What else do you know about the shop?”
“She has one employee named Rocky, and I think she’s the one that updates the website,” Junie answered thoughtfully. “I can’t see Gypsy being comfortable-”
“Gypsy?” I choked out, choosing the wrong moment to take a drink of my tea. “Her name is Gypsy? Are you fucking kidding me, Junie?”
The woman scowled. “There’s nothing wrong with her name, Roark.”
My brows rose high as I got myself under control. “Are you serious? Her name is Gypsy, and she owns a shop that-by your words-peddles happiness, Junie.” I leaned back in my seat. “So, having never stepped foot inside her shop, I’m going to guess that it’s brimming with healing crystals, self-help books, a whole back wall dedicated to aroma therapy, and I bet you there’s probably a witch and wizard section somewhere near the back. Am I close?”
Junie bit her bottom lip. “You’re being mean, Roark.”
I let out another sigh because I hated Junie being anything other than happy with me. I hated disappointing the girl, and it was a weakness that we were both very aware of. In fact, the same thing could be said for my mother, too. Nothing cut me off at the knees like a woman’s tears when she was sad or feeling hurt. Knowing this, Junie did her best never to exploit my weakness, something that I was eternally grateful for.
“I’m not trying to be, Junie Bug,” I told her, needing a fucking cigarette. “I just…I don’t see the point. If she’s…if she’s flighty or bad with her books, she’s going to be in the same boat next year and the year after that.”
“But you can-”
“She can’t afford us if she’s that bad off, Junie,” I pointed out. “Even you can’t argue that point.”
“What if I help her on my own dime?” she offered. “Once you sort her out, I can help her off the clock.”
I could feel my left eye start to twitch. “Knock it the fuck off, Junie,” I told her. “You know better.”
“But-”
“And even if you didn’t, there’s no way Ripley is going to let you work off the clock,” I reminded her. “Your time together means everything to him, and you know it.”
Junie’s eyes narrowed a bit. “You know, you Storm men need to work on your inner caveman.”
“I’ll get right on that,” I deadpanned.
Letting out another sigh, she said, “Look, just…I’ll make you a deal.”
“Yeah, right,” I snorted. “Our ‘deals’ always result in me just doing what you say, Junie.”
The she-devil grinned.
“Help her out, and then we’ll leave the rest of it up to her,” she offered. “You can give her the tools to stay successful, but if she doesn’t implement them, then we’ve done all we can.”
I arched a brow. “We?”
“Fine,” she huffed. “You.”
Knowing that it was over for me, I said, “I swear to God, you and Ripley better name your firstborn after me.”
“What if we have a girl?” she posed before chomping on her burger again.
“Then she’s going to be named Roark,” I insisted.
She looked like she was giving it some thought. “I like Roark for a girl. It has character.”
Ignoring her rambling, I asked, “When am I supposed to meet with her?”
Junie’s eyes started to dart around, guilt written all over her face. “I…uhm, uhm told her that you’d meet her Thursday after the shop closed, so that you guys wouldn’t be disturbed,” she admitted. “I…uh, might have mentioned something about you helping her this weekend.”
“I’m going to murder you,” I threatened.
“Hopefully, not before I can name my firstborn after you,” she replied, not feeling threatened at all.
“I’m going to so regret this,” I muttered, shaking my head, knowing it down to my soul.
“Probably,” Junie agreed, being no help to me at all.
Chapter 5
Gypsy~
“How’s my girl?”
“I’m good,” I semi-lied.
It was near closing time with Rocky already gone for the day, and I’d been spending most of the afternoon going through my tax boxes, and the depressing task had given me a melancholy feeling of missing my parents. So, with another excuse to take a break, I had sent Rocky on her way, then had called my dad, knowing that Mom was at church, doing her thing. Every Thursday, Mom donated food to the local charities, and her church was where the charities went to pick up everything. Dad only went with her when there was too much food for just my mom to handle, but most of the time, he stayed behind, letting Mom do her thing.
“Why does it sound like you’re lying?” he asked, though his voice was as sweet as pie.
“I’m getting ready for tax season,” I grumbled out the truth.
“It’s only November, Gyps,” he replied. “A bit early, don’t you think?”
Even though he couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “Not with the mess that I’ve got going on.”
Dad chuckled. “Well, if you need any help, I’m just a phone call away.”
My heart warmed. “Actually, I have a CPA stopping by any moment to help me get organized.”
“Oh, that’s…uh, something different,” he said carefully, trying not to hurt my feelings. “Usually, you try to tackle on the world by yourself.”
“It’s a long story,” I sighed. “One that I’ll tell you and Mom all about later.”
“You can come home any time, Gypsy,” he said, and I knew that he meant for more than just a visit. My parents really were my safe haven, and I was so blessed to have them.
Before I could say anything more, there was a knock on the glass of the front door. “Dad, I gotta go,” I rushed out. “The CPA guy just got here.”
“Okay, honey,” he replied easily. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I walked over to the door, and when I swung it open, I almost swallowed my tongue. Applying common sense to the situation, I should have already expected Roark Storm to be gorgeous. After all, his brother was sex on a stick on his worst day. So, it stood to reason that Roark would resemble Ripley to some degree, and Lord have mercy.
Roark Storm stood a good six-foot-two or around there, and he had dark, chocolate-colored hair that was short on the sides but long enough on top. It also looked soft as hell, like conditioner was important to him. His blue eyes looked like neon signs underneath his dark brows and surrounding lashes, and the term baby blues had to have been invented for this man alone. His hair and eyes paired with a face that was sharp as a Roman warrior’s, and it would be hard to dispute that Roark Storm was anything but male perfection, a stunning example of male perfection, at that.
“Gypsy Banks?” he asked, his voice sending a slight shiver down my spine. He looked like a banker, but his voice sounded like he should do audiobooks.
I nodded. “Uhm…yes.”
“I’m Roark Storm,” he said, introducing himself. “I believe Junie Bay…uhm, my sister-in-law, Junie Storm, told you that I was coming?”
I nodded again. “Uhm…yeah, ye…yes,” I stammered, feeling like a fool. “She…yeah, I’ve been expecting you.”
He smiled down at me, and Holy Mary, Mother of God, Roark Storm had dimples. He had dark hair, blue eyes, and goddamn dimples. What kind of wicked sorcery was this? Why would God make this gorgeous man a damn CPA? Why wasn’t he making millions on billboards? God have mercy, the man really should be half-undressed on a billboard somewhere.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” he said as he reached out to shake my hand.
Taking his offering, I shook his hand, and it was obvious that I really needed to get myself under control. Letting go of his hand, I chose to blame my desperate reaction on the fact that Lance had been the last guy that I’d slept with, and that breakup was already seven months old. While Lance hadn’t broken my heart, he had hurt my feelings enough that I had decided to take a break from dating for a while. I wouldn’t call myself bitter, so much as cautious at this point.
“Please, come in,” I said, stepping back, doing my best to appear normal, Lance’s phone call still haunting my thoughts all these months later.
“I don’t know. She’s just…weird.”
Not wanting to waste any time, Roark said, “Shall we head back to your office?”
“Oh, uhm…of course,” I muttered.
I quickly locked the front door before leading Roark towards the back of the shop. Knowing that he probably wasn’t the type of man that would appreciate the kind of store that Possibilities was, I didn’t offer him a tour or anything like that. Even knowing nothing about the man, CPAs didn’t really have reputations for being anything less than practical.
When we got to my office, my face heated up a little bit with embarrassment. Had Roark looked like a regular accountant, then I wouldn’t feel so incompetent right now, but he didn’t look like a regular anything. As hard as I tried to forget Lance’s cruel words, there was no way that Roark Storm wasn’t going to think that I was stupid after getting a look at my financials.
Unable to avoid it, I gestured towards the boxes. “Those are my files.”
His jaw ticked, but it was gone as soon as it’d happened. “All your financial records for this year are in those…those banker boxes?”
I nodded. “I don’t have room in my filing cabinets anymore,” I said as a way of explanation.
His blue eyes glanced around my office. “Why? What’s in them?”
“All my financial records from the previous years,” I answered.
This time, his left eye twitched a bit. “How long have you been in business?”
“Six years.” I glimpsed over at the filing cabinets. “I thought you had to keep at least seven years of tax records on hand.”
“While that’s…a good practice to have, why haven’t you archived your old records?” he asked, his eye still twitching. “Why not box those records up to free space up for your current year of business?”
“I don’t know. She’s just…weird.”
“I’m not…I’m not good with paperwork,” I admitted lamely, Lance’s voice trying to pull me under. “But, if it helps, that box has all my invoices.” I pointed to the first banker box. “The one next to it has all my bank information…you know, deposits and stuff like that. Then the-”
He put his hand up to stop me. “I get it.” I watched him let out a low breath. “And you’re certain that all of this year’s paperwork is in those boxes? There can’t be anything anywhere else?”
I nodded. “That’s all there is,” I promised. “I started…” I pointed to the first box. “See? I wrote the year on the boxes.”
To my surprise, Roark set his briefcase on my desk, then went to loosening his tie, and it had to be the sexiest thing that I’d ever seen a man do. Granted, it could be because Roark was the sexiest man that I’d ever seen, but still. The simple act of shutting down for the day looked good on him.
“Can you just give me a minute to look through the boxes?”
I nodded again. “Can I get you something to drink?”
His eyes slid away from the boxes. “What do you have?”
“I…uhm, I have water in the mini-fridge, but I live upstairs,” I announced. “I can go get you-”
“Water is fine,” he said, though he looked like he wanted a beer. “Also, how do you feel about smoking?”
“Smoking what?” I asked, eyeing him. He did not look like the type to get high.
“Cigarettes,” he answered dryly, almost like he could read my mind.
“Cigarettes are bad for you,” I chided, wincing when I realized that I didn’t have the right to reprimand him for his personal choices.
“So is prison,” he retorted. “So, it’s either nicotine in my lungs or homemade shanks in the shower, Ms. Banks.”
Properly chastised, I said, “Cigarettes don’t bother me. You can smoke out back if you need to.”
“Oh, I need to,” he muttered, giving me a small peek into his personality.
Not saying another word, I walked over to the fridge that I had in my office, then got him some water. I had to remember that he was doing this for free and as a favor to his sister-in-law, so it’d be best if I didn’t antagonize or irritate him unnecessarily. Honestly, with as hot as Roark was, I should probably be paying Junie Storm for the privilege of just being able to look at her brother-in-law.
Placing the bottle on the corner of my desk next to his briefcase, I asked, “Is there anything else that you need from me?”
Roark shook his head. “I just need a few minutes to see what I’m dealing with.”
“I don’t know. She’s just…weird.”
“Yeah, okay…” I mumbled, not knowing what to do with myself now.
Chapter 6
Roark~
Gypsy Banks took a seat in her chair as I lifted the first banker box, then set it on top of her desk. My brain felt like it was misfiring in a million different ways because it couldn’t concentrate on one thing. Normally, it’d be misfiring over Ms. Banks’ lack of organizational skills, but the second that my eyes had taken in the lovely Gypsy Banks, tax season had been the furthest thing from my mind.
Holy fucking shit.
When Gypsy Banks had opened the front door to her shop, I’d been expecting an older lady with long hair, wrists full of bead bracelets, a flowy dress, some dangly earrings, and wicker sandals. I’d expected a kind face and a free reading of my aura.
However, that’s not what I’d gotten.
Instead, I’d gotten a stunning blonde that stood no taller than five-foot-two, had hair the color of pale gold, light eyes the color of a clear lake, and a face that looked as fresh as pure snow. Her eyes were big, and though she was blonde, her lashes were dark enough to make her eyes pop a bit. She also had a heart-shaped face that looked endearing as fuck.
As for the rest of her, instead of wearing hippie garb, she was dressed in a simple light pink t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a pair of white sneakers. Her entire outfit was simple and comfortable, but I couldn’t say the same for her figure. Gypsy Banks had the body of a porn star with the best plastic surgeon, and her modest outfit did nothing to hide her incredible curves. She was a walking, talking, breathing hourglass come to life, and my dick was really fucking pissed that we were here for work reasons only. Gypsy looked soft and inviting, and it was taking everything in me not to picture fucking her on top of her desk.
Christ, when was the last time that I’d gotten laid?
Now, apart from how beautiful Gypsy Banks was, there was also the headache of her record keeping. My eye was twitching just knowing that she had stuffed all of her financials into banker boxes because her filing cabinets were full from prior years of account keeping. Ms. Banks’ files were my worst nightmare come to life, and if she was uninterested in the business side of doing business, then this was all going to be for nothing. You could lead a horse to water and all that.
Surprisingly, she hadn’t given me a tour of the store, but it’d been obvious that she had mixed emotions about having me here. She probably felt like a charity case right now, and even though it was true, I didn’t want her feeling that way. Plus, what probably felt like a mountain of work to a person like her wasn’t shit for a person like me. In all honesty, I could straighten this shit out in one weekend.
Gypsy didn’t say anything as I placed all of the boxes on her desk, then started sifting through them. Though it was a mess, at least she hadn’t just tossed everything haphazardly inside. She’d done her best to organize the boxes, so that was something.
“When I researched your store, I saw that you’re only open until two on Saturdays and closed on Sundays. Is that correct?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Would it be a problem to work on your files this weekend?” I looked over at her, and her face was pink, though I had no idea why.
“Uhm, no…this weekend will work,” she muttered.
I went back to looking through her files. “I’m busy tomorrow, but I can meet you here early Saturday morning.” I almost winced when I remembered that not everyone worked the hours that I did. “Of course, if that works for you.”
“Since you’re doing me a favor, anything that you want to do will work for me,” she replied softly, making me grateful that her desk was high enough to hide my twitching dick.
Even though she’d meant it innocently, that face, body, and voice of hers had a dangerous way of making a man think things. I couldn’t remember ever wanting to see a woman naked this badly, at least not since those dreaded pubescent years. However, it was easy to envision this woman’s tits bouncing in my face as she rode my dick, and I really, really, really needed to go get fucking laid.
Looking back over her way, I said, “I may be doing you a favor, but I’m not one to impose. Tell me what time you get up in the morning, and I’ll make it work.”
Gypsy started shaking her head. “Oh, no-”
“What time, Ms. Banks?” I demanded, cutting her off.
“The shop opens at ten,” she answered softly. “I usually get here at nine.”
I nodded as I looked back down at her boxes. “Okay, I can-”
“But I get up at seven,” she blurted, interrupting me. “So, I can be down here by eight.” She looked embarrassed, which was baffling as hell. “That way we don’t have to rush before the store opens.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “If that works for you, then I’ll be here.”
Placing the lids back on the boxes, I started to remove them from her desk, stacking them along the right wall, out of the way. If the woman had any kind of need to be organized, her office would have more room, but it was apparent that the woman was comfortable around clutter. In fact, her entire shop could attest to that. Though she hadn’t given me a tour, I’d gotten an eyeful walking through it.
