Page 79 of Heart Over Heels

TWENTY-THREE

Darby

So maybe I had a little crush.

It had happened before. Some sugar daddies were better than others. They smelled good, looked good, and even felt good… I wasn’t always successful at not getting attached.

Mercer wasn’t a sugar daddy, but what he lacked in funds, he made up for with other qualities I was finding increasingly difficult to resist.

After Bingo night, we hung out a few more times. Mostly before work, where Mercer made a habit of showing up earlier and earlier. Once or twice, he brought snacks for the dolls to share. It was bribery at its finest, but I applauded him for it. Plus, it gave the others something to talk about besides my unsubtle efforts to locate Mercer during every shift, serving him drinks or bumping him with my hip every time I walked past. My favorite move so far had been catching his chin with the tip of my tail and turning his head as I strolled by. I could have sworn I felt the heat in his skin when he noticed the extra sway I put in my step just for him.

When I wasn’t working, I was thinking about the things I’d seen that night I spent prowling around his house. The place felt hollow, like an oyster without a pearl, and that was a problem I sought to remedy. And after I did, if he felt compelled to reward me with the modestly sized package he kept in his pants… how could I refuse?

So maybe I was also a little horny.

I usually had more than enough dick to sate my appetite, but I’d been turning down offers of late, claiming I was tied up with club business and the burden of my managerial role. Really, I’d been tied up with thoughts of what Mercer might look like in the fatigues I’d found stashed in his guest bedroom closet. Or better yet, halfway out of them.

As my Uber driver turned down Mercer’s street, I pushed those thoughts aside. Work first, then play. And the small mountain of home furnishings I had loaded in the hatch of the SUV equated to quite a lot of work. I was ready to get started, though. Like Oprah on an interior design special, I was going to shower Mercer in all of my favorite things.

My fingers drummed against my knees, and my tail flicked with impatience at the sluggish neighborhood speed limit. The moment the car rolled up the driveway and shifted into park, I was already halfway out the door.

“Mind popping the hatch?” I asked the driver. “I’m gonna grab us a helper.”

Without waiting for his answer, I bounded up the walk, light on my feet as I made my way to the front door. My hand hovered over the bell for a moment before I pressed it, counting on Mercer being home.

The door swung open, and there he was—surprised, but unmistakably happy to see me.

“I didn’t know you were coming by.” Mercer’s gaze slid past me toward the car. “And you brought… What’s all that?”

Stepping aside, I swept my hand toward the boxes and home furnishings the driver was unloading onto the driveway.

“Thought I’d surprise you,” I said, backpedaling slowly in an effort to lure him out of the house. “I had a few extra things from the Dollhouse renovation. The boys have shit for taste, so I figured I’d find a more grateful home.”

“Extra things, huh?” Mercer asked, skeptical but following my lead.

I pranced down the drive to the rear of the vehicle and waited, giving my hips a side-to-side shimmy.

When Mercer came around the back of the car, his brown eyes widened at the stacks of items packed inside. “Darby, I can’t accept this,” he protested as the driver handed him a sack of throw pillows.

“Think of it as a bonus.” I reached past him to snag a box of candles then tilted my head. “Managers are allowed to reward their employees, aren’t they?”

“Maybe.” His brows drew together. “But this is a lot.”

“I’ma lot,” I retorted.

We froze for a moment, bathed in sun and heat while a battle of indecision raged across Mercer’s face. I half expected him to command the driver to pack everything up and send it away.

I decided not to give him the chance. As soon as his hands were empty, I crowded close, hooking my fingers through his belt loops and rocking my body into his in a way that was nothing short of suggestive.

Mercer’s cheeks flamed as I tipped my chin back, hooded eyes catching his.

“Please let me spoil you, baby,” I cooed.

It was something one of my sugar daddies would have said, and the realization started me giggling. I pulled away from him, grinning wide. “Oh my god. The tables have turned.”

“What are you talking about?” Mercer still looked flustered, his skin stained pink from my advance.

“You’rethe sugar baby now.” I shot him a look as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That makes me obligated to shower you with gifts. It’s like… a law or something.”