Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) by Becca Jameson (inspirational novels .TXT) 📕

idea of her sitting out here in her car for three more hours. There’s a story here. Probably one that will make me cringe.

A dozen scenarios play out in my mind. She had a fight with her boyfriend and left him. She was out late and didn’t want to go home and wake anyone. Her parents kicked her out. Her car didn’t start when she got off work yesterday and she doesn’t have the money for a tow or a ride home. Then back to my original thought—this is home for her.

I step back as she opens the door. She winces and rubs her neck as she eases out of the car. She couldn’t have been comfortable. When she tips her head back to meet my gaze, she swallows. “Sorry. I...uh.” She doesn’t finish. Whatever her reason for being here so early, she hasn’t had a chance to perfect her story yet, or she didn’t expect to get caught.

In reality, she wouldn’t have been found out if it weren’t for the fact that I arranged to meet with Cindy here at this hour. Coincidence.

I hold out a hand. “Davis Marcum.”

She takes my hand in her much smaller one. “Britney Heath.” Damn, she’s petite. She’s only about five-two. Again, I wonder how old she is. If she works for Cindy, she has to be at least eighteen.

She pulls her smaller hand from mine before I’ve released her and then lifts her arms to run her fingers through her hair. It’s fucking gorgeous. Some might call it dirty blond, but it’s more like light brown with amazing blond highlights in a dozen shades. It hangs down in long thick waves to her butt. She could sit on it.

When she meets my gaze again, I notice that she’s not just pretty; she’s stunningly gorgeous. There’s a maturity in her eyes, and they’re a shade of blue that makes me feel like I’m staring at the sky. Her face is round, her nose is a button, her lips are full and kissable. Her skin is flawless. God was good to her.

I force myself to hold her gaze but I’m aware that she’s wearing jeans, a cheap pair of flip flops, a white tank top, and a cardigan sweater. She tugs the sweater around her tighter as if she’s cold. It is chilly this morning.

I notice there’s nothing extra in her car, so maybe she isn’t homeless after all.

She sighs and glances back at her open door. “I…uh…”

That’s the second time she’s stammered that same lack of information. She’s nervous and…well, cute. Shit. If she were at least in her twenties and I met her at Surrender, I would rush across the room and try to get her attention before any other man got their hands on her.

However, we’re not at Surrender. She probably has no idea what a fetish club is. And I have no business ogling her because at thirty-five I’m too fucking old for her no matter what.

She turns back to me. “I should probably talk to Cindy.”

I nod, though I’m hoping my appearance hasn’t caused her any problems. She looks like she could use a break. I nod toward the building. “You might as well come inside. I hate to leave you out here.” I glance around the area. It’s probably safe enough, but I wouldn’t leave any woman alone in a car.

She follows me to the entrance and waits with me while the night manager opens the door for us. Cindy told him I would be here, and I know his name is Charles.

He’s a big guy with dark skin and a winning smile. “You must be Davis.” He holds out a hand and I shake it. Then he glances over my shoulder. “Hey, Britney. What are you doing here so early?”

She squares her shoulders and stammers an answer. “I came straight here from my other job. Figured I’d just catch a few hours of sleep in the car.”

“Girl,” Charles drawls, “why didn’t you come inside? Are you still working at that club? I thought you quit that gig.”

She winces.

My hair stands on end. Club? I can’t picture this woman at any club even as a guest.

“Not anymore,” she murmurs.

“Good. I hated thinking about you in that place. Made my skin crawl.” Charles waves us farther inside.

My skin is crawling now too. I’m dying to understand this woman better. Britney. Cute name. Suits her. I let her pass through the doorway leading into the back of Safe Harbor ahead of me. I tell myself it’s because I’m a gentleman and not because I want to take a look at her ass.

Even her ass is cute. Does this woman have flaws? I kinda need to find out before my cock gets hard.

“I made coffee.” Charles points at a steaming pot as we pass what I assume is the break room. “And there are muffins there from yesterday. You need to eat something, girl.”

The sound of dogs barking increases as we head toward what I assume are their kennels. Sure enough, Charles opens a door, and I see rows of kennels. The larger dogs on the right are making most of the racket, but the smaller puppies on the left are adding to the cacophony with their higher-pitched yelps.

Charles glances over his shoulder. “Don’t mind these furry fellows. They’re anxious for their breakfast. I was just about to feed them.”

“I can help,” Britney offers as she scurries over to a side door where I assume the food is kept.

I continue to follow Charles, though it’s impossible not to glance over my shoulder as that mane of blond hair disappears through the doorway.

After we pass through a thick door on the other side of the kennel, the noise mutes again.

Charles turns around. “Was she sleeping in the parking lot?” He looks concerned. His brow is furrowed. His dark eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. I saw the car and approached. Didn’t expect to find a woman inside. Startled me. Startled her more. Has she done that before?”

“I