Heath Otts works at a local, very posh and exclusive, golf course as a greens keeper. After work one afternoon, his boss asks him to drop off some bags of pink gravel, which were delivered to them by mistake. He takes them up to the club house as instructed, and looks for someone to give them to.
There was a flurry of activity in one of the private dining rooms. He wandered over, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, trying not to look as big and dirty as he was. It wasn’t easy making a man his size inconspicuous. At six foot four, he was broad shouldered, narrow hipped and handsome. Even with a day’s worth of dirt on him, he was eye catching. His wavy brown hair came to the collar of his shirt. His brilliant blue eyes surveyed the room looking for someone in charge.
A tall, well built brunette with shoulder length hair and killer legs stood a few feet away. She wore a bright blue dress that clung invitingly to her tasty curves. Heath watched her ass for several seconds before clearing his throat.
“Excuse me, miss?”
She spun around, her smile faltering when she saw his shabby attire.
“I’ve got the gravel y’all ordered.”
“Oh, of course. Thank you!”
“Where would you like me to stow it?”
She cast about for a moment, then motioned to a table near the door. “Right there is perfect. That will save you a few steps.”
“You got it!” He turned away.
“What’s your name?” she called after him.
“Essa Jaymes. Nice to meet you. I’m the events planner here.”
“I work greens maintenance. Pardon my stank. I just got off work.”
She reached out the shake his hand. He started to take her hand, realized he was still dirty, even after washing, and jerked it away instead.
“Sorry. I’m real dirty, Miss Jaymes. Nice to meet you, though.”
She grabbed his hand anyway, shaking firmly. “I can always wash. Nice to meet you, Heath.”
“You too. Lemme get that gravel in for ya.” He walked backward, pointing over his shoulder at the back door.
“Sure. Great. Thank you.” She looked baffled by his behavior, but smiled anyway.
So damn outta her league. . . .I’m not even in the same galaxy as her league. Fuck, I’m not even in her universe. God damn that’s a pretty woman!
His unloading went quickly. He had to carry everything in by hand, but he was strong and able to lift two bags at a time. Soon, all ten bags were stacked neatly on the table. He’d been given a paper for someone to sign, so he went looking for Miss Jaymes again. He found her on the far side of the room counting place settings.
“Just need your John Hancock,” he said, handing her a clipboard.
“Thanks again,” she said, scribbling her name. She handed it back to him. Next to it, she’d written her number. Her smile flashed. “Do they let you accept tips?”
“Your boss. Are you allowed to take a tip?”
“I dunno. Only been working two months and no one tried to tip me before.”
She grinned, handing him a folded bill on the sly. “Shh,” she whispered. “Qviet!”
Heath took it from her furtively, turning his body so no one would see the bill exchange hands. “I feel like I’m doing a drug deal,” he murmured.
Essa laughed. “Nothing so sordid, I promise. I know the kitchen staff aren’t allowed to accept tips. It’s built into the bill. I really appreciate you doing that for me. I don’t suppose I could trouble you further? I don’t have scissors and I don’t think I can open those bags with my hands.”
“I’ll slit ’em for ya. Enough you can get your fingers in. Any more than a slit, you’ll be up to your ears in pink gravel.”
She giggled at his lame joke. “That would be super awesome! Thank you.” Essa beamed at him.
“Happy to help a lady in distress.” Heath flipped open his pocket knife and attacked the corner of each bag and stood them upright against the wall, so they wouldn’t spill.
© 2016 Dellani Oakes