Scarlet Boa

Community Service

"Is there a problem here?" Macklin asked. She didn't expect to be welcomed with open arms, but still, the guy wouldn't even speak to her! He took the court documents from her hand and turned his back to her to scan them. How rude! Although the view was pretty impressive—broad shoulders stretched under his white t-shirt, worn denim hugged his firm bottom. Macklin shook her head. She was in enough trouble without lusting after her community service supervisor. "The judge said I was supposed to report here today, but you obviously weren't expecting—"

"Follow me—I'll show you around," he said gruffly.

Gee, could he possibly manage a friendly tone of voice? She enjoyed watching him walk, but he wasn't winning any personality awards. The man stopped to open a door for her. Instead of walking through, Macklin stuck out her hand. "My name's Macklin Kettrick."

"Yeah, that's what your paperwork says." He ignored her extended hand.

"If I'm going to be spending 500 hours here, I'd like to know your name."

He ignored her. Macklin stood her ground.

"I'm sorry, have I done something to offend you," she asked, lowering her hand.

He let go of the door and it slammed shut. "Hell yeah I'm offended. You got picked up for drunk driving, cookie. You could have killed someone. All you rich girls are the same. You go out and party, drive around plastered, and when you get caught Daddy gets you a big shot lawyer and you get off easy."

"You're right," she whispered.

"Then you show up here late with your tight little jeans and you think I'm going to go easy on you because you're some pretty rich girl."

"My jeans aren't tight!"

His eyes scanned her body, lingering on her bottom before returning to her face. "Yeah right." Then his eyes settled on her breasts stretching the fabric of her pink t-shirt. "Neither is that shirt."

She crossed her arms over her breasts. "I wore jeans because the judge said I'd be working with teenagers. I didn't think a business suit would be appropriate. I'm sorry I was late but I'm still getting used to the bus schedules."

"Why were you taking the bus?" He held up her paperwork. "You didn't lose your license."

"No, but I should have. What I did was stupid and I was lucky no one got hurt. Doing 500 hours isn't enough, so I locked up my car keys. I'm not driving again until all my community service hours are complete."

He studied her face, probably trying to determine whether or not she was serious. He had no idea how serious she was. No idea that her own mother had been killed by a drunk driver.

Her voice broke. "I don't expect special treatment, but I would really like to know your name."

She noticed something new in his eyes. Respect? Approval?

"My name's Austin," he said, and opened the door for her again.
,br>