CEO engaged

fucking time I needed it, I didn't have it with me. I looked at Waylynn as I raised my hands in the air, feeling helpless. She didn't have her hands up. She had one in her purse and the other on her lower back. "Here," she said, slamming a piece of cold metal onto the table I stood in front of. "You can hold my purse gun." Then she pulled out the biggest damn gun I've ever seen right out of the waistband of her pants. Knowing she was about to confront the thief, I dropped my arms and grabbed the 'purse gun' she handed me. Then he turned around just in time for the man to come toward us.

"I said hands up!" the thief shouted. In response, Waylynn removed the safety catch. It was the loudest thing I've ever heard in my life. "Do you really want to see whose biggest weapon is?" she asked. "Because mine is a 500 Win Mag. It will burn a hole in your chest the size of a watermelon." The man was paralyzed. He gaped at Waylynn. Like everyone else, including me. "I'm going to count to ten to get to the ground before I shoot," she said. "One. Two. Three..." The robber threw his gun at Waylynn, and that's when I realized it was plastic. It hit Waylynn in the face, then fell to the ground and shattered into a million tiny pieces of plastic. Waylynn didn't bother shooting the idiot, though. Before anyone, even me, could react, she was attacking the man before he could escape. 1 She took him down with a well-placed approach, doing better than eighty percent of the Dallas Cowboys' professional offensive linemen. "Holy shit," I breathed, watching everything happen in a kind of slow motion. I reached down and picked up her gun that had fallen to the floor, stuck it down the back of my pants, then stepped on the arm of the man I was about to use to land a blow to the side of Waylynn's head. When he went to hit her with his other arm, I stepped hard, feeling the audible snap of the man's arm breaking. He screamed a lot and Waylynn got off of him. 1 in the original – tackle. I offered her my hand, which she promptly took away. Standing on her own two feet, she smoothed her hands down her pants and looked at the now crying thief. A scattered, breathless cashier made her way with a phone to her ear. "The police are on the way," she said breathlessly. I nodded once and handed Waylynn back her handgun. She picked it up, replaced it in the holster against her right kidney, and threw the shirt back over it. When she was done with that, I gave her back her 'purse gun' too. With both of them safely tucked away, I couldn't help myself. I had to know since I hadn't seen the gun beforehand. I knew I had caught a glimpse of her ass at one point during our walk to the bank. I leaned back, catching the eye of a man now standing and brushing his pressed pants, and got a look at her ass. I could see the barrel of the gun - now. "How the hell..." I said. "I should have been able to see that." Waylynn snorted. "Would you like to go out to dinner with me?" asked the well-dressed man. Waylynn turned to study the man who had just asked that. At about this time, the man on the ground pulled out a knife and lunged at Waylynn. I reacted first and kicked the knife out of his hand almost at the same time Waylynn pulled her gun back. The nervous little girl pointed at the bank robber's face and said, "Don't touch that knife!" The man stopped trying to fight for it and froze. He also lost control of his bladder. I lost control of my ability to keep my dick from getting hard whenever Waylynn Jennings was around. An hour later, we finished answering the police officers' questions and I was finally able to deposit the money in the bank. "That was fun," Waylynn said as she walked beside me. "Now about why I was here today." I frowned at her. "Weren't you affected by what just happened?" I questioned. She shrugged. "My dad is a former Army Ranger. He was on the police force for about two years before deciding that bullfighting was what he wanted to do with his life. But, he taught me everything he knows. I've been learning how to bake pies and clean a house since I was old enough to hold a Nerf gun. Trust me when I say, this shit doesn't affect me like it would most girls." Every time she opened her mouth, she surprised me. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked. She rolled her eyes. "The rodeo is in town," she snorted. "Duh." I looked at her with a question in my eyes. "You're wondering why I'm with my dad and not working, aren't you?" she asked. "You got it right the first time," I confirmed. She sighed and kicked a stone on the sidewalk. "I needed." I didn't bother asking her why. Instead, when we got to my truck, I leaned against the cab, crossed my legs, and waited for her to start explaining. She sighed. Chapter 2 I want to eat 5 meals a day. What son of a bitch decided there should only be two? -Text from Waylynn to Darby Waylynn He was too beautiful for his own good. Why was he so hot? That was the question of the day, anyway. Darby Valentine, the youngest of the Valentine boys, was hot as sin. Incredibly smart and a damn genius. How was it fair that a man like him, with all those extra things that made him so attractive, had brains and intelligence and common sense? It wasn't fair. In fact, the man was so perfect that I hated him. Then again, he would be perfect if he didn't open his mouth. But, that rarely happened when it came to this particular Valentine. "Apparently everyone in Houston wants me to have some experience or more education," I said. "I have already applied to more than ten companies. They all refused." I wrinkled my nose and tried not to let my anger show. "When I applied for some lower-level jobs, I appear to be overqualified. Frustrated, I returned home for the summer." "You don't live here," the smart guy pointed out. "Your dad lives in a trailer and is only home for a week at most before he leaves again." I was gritting my teeth, trying not to let my anger at him show. The thing is, I was upset. Not only did Darby graduate in two classes, he also scored higher in all of his classes than I did. It was hard to swallow watching someone who didn't give a shit about getting all As when he wasn't studying for a test all night like you. "My dad bought a house and some acres here last week," I told him. "Apparently, this is the 'bouncy' place, according to him. That, and I think he's tired of following the rodeo circuit. When he finishes this season, he says it's over." Surprised by my words, Darby sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. The sexy way he was standing there, leaning against his truck, with his feet crossed in front of him and his hat pulled down over his eyes, made me want to scream. Or kiss him. I wasn't sure which at this point. "Did he by any chance buy the old Camfire land?" He asked casually. Very casually. "Umm, yes?" I said. "That name sounds familiar." He stiffened. "What?" I asked. He was already shaking his head. "Anything. Absolutely nothing." I blinked in surprise at his tone. Was he mad? What the hell did I say to piss him off so quickly and fantastically? "Anyway," I said. "Dad bought that land and I found a job at a diner not far from it. I start

spider, hearing the damn thing crash. Gasping, I lifted the iron and wrinkled my nose in disgust. So I ripped off the sheets, comforter, and pillows and took them straight to the laundry room. After turning on the washing machine, I called an exterminator. Some things I considered necessary. Food, water, electricity and insect control. These were four things I couldn't live without, no matter what. So using my dad's credit card to pay didn't make me feel guilty at all. What made me feel guilty was considering burning the whole place down and starting over.

Surely living in an RV would be better than this, right? I called my dad, honestly surprised when he answered. "Hello?" he asked, looking distracted. "Hello, dad. It's me," he said. I could practically hear my father moving through the crowd to get to a quieter place. As soon as he found it, he spoke again. "Hello Baby. How are you looking for a job?" he asked. I didn't feel like telling him the depressing news of finding nothing. Instead, I told him about the house and the spider I killed. He was laughing before I even finished my explanation. "Oh, baby," he said. "You were never good with spiders." I never went. And I never had anyone to help me kill the spiders either. I was always alone. My father, although a good father, had been gone for most of my life. I grew up very alone for many years. At home alone or with a babysitter, at night while he was working a shift, or in a trailer while he slept around the rodeo arena. Honestly, I didn't even know why I called him. It turns out that sometimes, the idea of ​​who I wanted my father to be overshadowed by who he really was. My father wasn't a bad guy. He was just a bad father. "No," I admitted. "Anyway, I just wanted to call and check your arrival time." "My estimated arrival time wouldn't be any time soon," he admitted. "I, uh, met someone." I swallowed hard. "What does that mean?" I wondered idly. "Well," he hesitated. "She is very important to me. I guess I'll see what happens here in Houston for a while." I closed my eyes as his words sank heavily. "So what do I do about the things that need fixing?" I wondered. "I can't...I can't afford to do them alone." "I can send some home to get you sorted," he offered. "It won't be much, but it will be enough to get you started." I almost groaned when I took a look around the house where I could see potential, but it wouldn't be a walk in the park to reach its peak. "Okay," I said softly. "Well, I hope you have a great night." "Goodnight my dear." He hung up without thinking twice. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, allowing it to stretch my tired neck muscles. When I finished my moment, I began to overcome it. Then I cleaned the house and made it shine, even if I couldn't fix it all up. Tomorrow is a new day. I would officially start my work. I would do it. I would do what I loved in the end, even if it killed me. Chapter 3 Men will never know what it feels like to have a fart move up and up your vagina. Then you have to make a weird turn to fart again. -Text from Waylynn to Darby Waylynn "What. Screw this. That's it?" I asked, looking in horror at the woman who had just decided I needed a serious talk. "It was Mrs. Miller," said my new boss, Trudy. "Just ignore her. She feels like she always needs to be involved in everyone's business." Honestly, it was kind of humiliating having to find a job waiting tables at the most disgusting diner in town when I should have been working, using my degree. Gotta make the money somehow, baby. It doesn't matter if it's waiting tables or working on a pole. Money is money. My father's words ricocheted through my brain and I wanted to kill him again. When I said I would be fine working on a pole, he told me, in no uncertain terms, that I would be allowed to do that. But after working at this particular restaurant this afternoon, I was pretty sure a strip club would be the best way for me. Which is why I wasn't on my best behavior when he walked in. My attention has officially been cut short after what Ms. Miller just shared with me. "I'm going to take a smoke break," said Trudy. "You can handle that man, right?" No, I wasn't sure I could handle Darby Valentine, but I'd give it the old college try. I stared at him as he walked in, not breaking eye contact with him until he was close enough for me to read his shirt. My lips twitched when I read what it said. "If you're reading this right, release me from the stirrup?" I laughed. "I bought it for Banks, but he didn't want to use it," he said as he approached the bar separating me from him. "What are you doing here?" I blinked. "Ummm," I said, "I'm working," shaking out my shirt with one hand. "What does it look like I'm doing?" "It looks like you're in one of the worst places in town that caters to villains, drug addicts and convicted criminals," he said, looking around in disgust. "I saw her truck out front and thought, there's no way in hell she's working here. But I had to come just to make sure." I shrugged. "I need a job. This place is close to the house and I can walk here." He frowned. "Can you walk?" I agreed. "I can walk," I repeated. "I mean, I guess I could take my horse, Cantina, but I'm not sure I'd want to tie her up all day." Darby rolled his eyes. "You couldn't find another place?" He pushed. I tilted my head, then leaned into him. A cockroach slithered across the counter, heading straight for my arm, and I jumped back. Darby slammed the napkin dispenser onto the cockroach, and four more came out of the box holding them. I choked. I hated bugs. But even more so, I really hated cockroaches. Like, on a scale of one to ten, ten being, I'm dead, I was thirty-seven. There was one time I had to stay at my mother's house - my mother who was living with a new boyfriend - and I had to use my inhaler. It was a real emergency, so I was very quick to take the lid off and put it in my mouth. When I did this, the cockroaches crawled out of the mouthpiece and straight into my mouth. From that moment on, I was extremely careful about what I did and didn't do - and what kind of places I allowed myself to be. Yes, that was the final straw. Without thinking about it, I grabbed a completely sealed bottle of water and left, leaving Darby staring at me. It wasn't until I was getting into my truck that he caught up to me. "Just like that, will you leave?" he asked, sounding amused. I nodded once and slammed the door. But since it was unbearably hot outside, I rolled down my window, turning it using the handle until it was fully down. He looked at me amused. "Your dad let you use his truck today," he said. Yes, he had. "I borrowed it on the first day. I needed to see how far it would be so I could walk tomorrow," I replied. "Jesus, this place is a joke." I started my dad's truck and put it in reverse. "What are you going to do now?" he asked. I looked down the street at the only fancy place on the entire block and pointed. "I'll go and see if I can find anything," I replied. His mouth opened. "Are you going to work at Judy Boobies?" he asked in disbelief. I was pretty sure Judy Boobies didn't use that name, but I heard more than five people call her that today. Most of it came from men who kept saying that Judy Boobies was a classy girl and that they wished they had the money to pay for coverage. "Yes," I replied, pulling out of the parking space. I didn't know what to wear

restaurant, I didn't expect the greatness of Judy Bosoms. But what I saw was nothing short of extraordinary. "Wow," I said, staring in awe at the place in front of me. Everything was made of glass. The walls. The roof. The floor. Some parts were frozen, while others gave the impression of some kind of funhouse. It has to be the coolest place I've ever seen. "It's cool," Darby said. "Haven't seen it since the new owner fixed it...ahhhh, there it is. Gibson." I looked up to see a tall, dark, and dangerous man coming towards us. This man, Gibson, looked like he just stepped out of GQ.

There was no way in hell he wouldn't stand out in Kilgore, Texas. "Valentine," Gibson said, going up and grabbing Darby's hand. "You're looking good." Darby snorted. "Whatever. I like what you've done with the place. Seems pretty good. Much more classic than the last time I was here." Gibson laughed at that, his eyes flicking to me and then back to Darby. "Is this your girl?" he asked, offering me his hand. "Um, that's a big no," I said, taking his outstretched hand and squeezing it just like my dad taught me. "This man followed me from the parking lot." Gibson's mouth twitched at the corner in a small smile. "He did it now?" I was already shaking my head. "Yes. I'm here to apply for a job." GQ's head tilted like he couldn't believe I just asked that. "Do you want to work... here?" he asked. I agreed. "Why?" he wondered. I fought the urge to cross my hands over my chest and instead dug my fingers into my back pocket before responding. "Because I need a job," I said, not seeing the point in lying. If I didn't need a job, would I be applying to a strip club? No no, I would not do. But the simple fact was that I needed a job. And I wasn't an arrogant snob - unless there were cockroaches involved. I would work and do what needed to be done. "I don't have any openings," she admitted. "Not like a stripper." "But do you have vacancies?" I asked. Her lips twitched. "I have an opening for security." I was already shaking my head. "As much as I'd like to say I can handle this, I can't," I told him. "Unless you let me bring my gun..." He snorted. "Yes, that's a no." Darby crossed his arms over his chest. "What about Apache?" Darby pushed. Apache? What is Apache? I didn't say it out loud, because GQ was thoughtful for a second. His eyes turned to study me, sizing me up from head to toe. "Do you think she could handle Apache?" he wondered, moving his eyes towards Darby. Darby turned his gaze to me and nodded once. "Did you hear about that almost bank robbery yesterday?" Darby asked. GQ nodded. "It was her," he said. "With the gun." GQ's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "You're kidding me," he said. "No," denied Darby. "Not even a little." "What about the incidents?" GQ asked. I sighed. "How about you start talking in real sentences that make sense, instead of riddles," I suggested. GQ's eyes turned to me with a frown. "You should shut up and let me be the boss," he said. I shrugged. "I'm impatient, set in my ways, and not a girl you can push around," I told him honestly. "I grew up in a single-parent household. All I had was my father. He raised me in a trailer and forced me to do shit that any girl wouldn't normally do. Believe me when I say, I find it easier to just say what I want and mean it." And fuck everyone and anything that didn't like me the way I was. "I like you," GQ said, turning to Darby. "You have a good one." "She's not mine," he said, at the same time I said, "I'm not his." GQ snorted as if we had both blatantly lied to his face. "Sure," he agreed, humor in his tone. "I have an opening for a manager at Apache," he said, changing the subject. "It's about half a mile down the road from here. The old drive-in movie theater right at the end of..." I frowned. "There is no cinema in Kilgore." "No more." He paused. "But there was one a long time ago. I just bought. I'm turning this into the jewelry it used to be. I'm opening next month." "It's actually pretty close to where you live, Waylynn," Darby said. "The place with the big black iron gates." Now that was ringing a bell. Excitement began to invade my body. The drive-in was even closer than the diner. And a management position would earn me a lot of money and also some experience. It could definitely work! But first... "What is Apache?" I asked. "Why do you guys keep saying that like it's some kind of secret?" GQ's lips twitched. But it was Darby's straightforward laugh that interested me so much. "When Gibson and I were fifteen," he said, "we snuck into the Apache." "And..." I pushed. "And," Darby continued, "we crawled over the gate, walked to the closest spot we could get without being seen, and then started watching a porn movie while people in cars had sex next to us." My jaw dropped as if I couldn't understand the words that came out of his mouth. "Sorry, what?" "The Apache is an adults-only drive-in theater," said GQ. "Or it was a long, long time ago. When I bought it, it was with the intention of reopening it and making it bigger and better, but also staying true to the original owner's vision." I scratched my head. "And you think I'd be a good manager for that... adult movie theater?" I asked. He smiled. "Not many people can handle Darby," he said, giving Darby an appraising look. "But you seem to have done well so far. And I've been looking for someone to fill the role. If you have Darby's recommendation, then I think we'll make a good fit." I scratched my head again. "When did I receive his recommendation?" "He came with you," GQ said. "He wouldn't have done it if he didn't think you'd fit in." I didn't know what to say about that. I was pretty sure Darby was following me because he thought it would piss me off. Was he right. This irritated me. However, I wouldn't give him the benefit of knowing I did. Instead, I looked at GQ and said, "What would my responsibilities be?" Darby huffed and walked towards the bar, where he then proceeded to pour himself a beer by leaning over the bar, grabbing a mug and pulling it straight from the tap. GQ ignored him as if Darby did this every day. "Firstly, hiring people who will work with what the business is. Find suppliers. Setting up shop, so to speak," he said. I didn't bother mentioning that I had never done anything like this before. How difficult can it be? Chapter 4 Me: Be careful. Don't get hurt. What he hears: Hi, I'm Johnny Knoxville. Welcome to Jackass. -Text from Waylynn to Darby Waylynn On my first day of work, there was a porn movie playing on the big screen as I walked down the driveway. I stared, shocked, as Darby walked around shirtless, wearing just jeans and boots, shouting, "I can't hear any moaning in here!" I stopped next to Darby, who clearly didn't seem as surprised to see me as I was to see him. "What are you doing?" I asked curiously, unable to take my eyes off the screen. It was early in the morning, just after six in the morning, and too early to watch a porn movie. At least I thought so anyway. Darby and who I thought was GQ? Not a lot. "I rode out here to see the