Seducing my hot maintenance man

Chapter 5

Aubrey’s POV

“How did these get on my nightstand?” I wonder out loud, noticing the AirPods on my nightstand. I distinctly recall them landing on the floor near the bed. And then realization hits me. HE must have come into my bedroom while I was away! Greyson!

It was odd that Greyson picked up the AirPods at all. But I somehow doubt that could be all that he did in here.

He had the opportunity to snoop around to his hearts content while I was grabbing more things from my old apartment, and he was probably looking at every last thing I own. I’m suddenly glad that my new dresser was still empty. He might be one of those weird guys who steals women’s underwear as some sort of trophy. Or has a foot fetish, and was messing round with my shoes. Although I notice it doesn’t look like anything in the closet was touched.

Well, next time I need to call maintenance for any reason, I’ll make sure I’m here the entire time. Fingers crossed that isn’t needed all that often, like it was at the last place. I’d like to avoid the maintenance guy here if at all possible.

Which I soon find out is not an easy thing to do in this place! I happen to run into him again early the next morning. I’m in the fitness room getting in a work out on the stair master before I head to work when he comes in, apparently all ready to work out as well. He’s dressed in workout shorts and a snug fitting tee shirt. Dang, but he’s got an even better bod than I had imagined from the form fitting denim jeans and polo shirt ensemble from yesterday. Now I’ve got a view of some muscular legs, and biceps with real definition.

“Good morning,” he says with a friendly nod. I return the greeting, and then try to ignore him.

I want nothing more than to just leave, but I refuse to be run out of here like I don’t belong. If anyone doesn’t belong, it’s him! He just works here. I’m paying a lot of rent to use this space, and thanks to the move I don’t have the extra cash right now for a gym membership elsewhere.

Greyson hops onto a rowing machine, and gets busy, his muscles rippling in an almost hypnotic way. I can almost imagine him using those rippling muscles in all sort of interesting ways and in so many interesting positions. And after less than 20 minutes I’m feeling a little too hot and bothered by what I imagine his body might do to my body, that I just can’t stand it anymore. I’ve got to get out of here before my brain short circuits and I begin to believe that I can somehow make my imagination into reality.

I get down off of the stair master, and I mentally debate for a moment about whether to confront him about snooping around in my room, but I chicken out. I just head for the door.

“Leaving so soon?” Greyson asks, his voice deep and sexy.

“I’ve got to get to work,” I say with a little wave as I head for the door.

“See ya around, beige!” He says with a laugh, not even breaking his concentration on the rowing machine.

I’m confused for a second. Did he just call me babe, or beige? Whatever, it doesn’t even matter! I’ve got to leave and get ready for work. I’ve got a new client this morning, and I need to be focused for that.

And as I leave, I vow that starting tomorrow I will work out in the evenings from this point on. That way I don’t run into the hot as hell maintenance man.

It a good plan, right? I can sleep in just a little bit, and also spend more time on hair and makeup in the mornings. Image is everything for a lawyer, and a woman lawyer just starting out in the biz even more so! I gotta prove my value to the firm! I need to look competent and confident, until I actually am competent and confident. In other words, fake it until I make it!

It was a good plan. So good, in fact, that while I was about 10 minutes into my work out the next evening, in comes Greyson!

“You don’t actually workout twice a day, do you?” I accidentally blurt out in surprise.

“No, what about you?” He replies, hopping onto the treadmill next to mine just to be perverse and annoying, I suppose. There are at least five other machines he could have used, since only four other residents were currently in here. Although the rowing machine he used last time was admittedly busy.

I make up some stupid excuse about wanting to sleep in this morning, but that I generally prefer my workouts to be in the early mornings. When the truth is that I’m often just too tired in the evenings, or occasionally I have to meet with clients who have no other availability.

Meanwhile he talks about switching his workouts to evenings permanently. An idea I highly encourage. If I’m lucky that means I won’t hardly ever see him again. What a shame!

Meanwhile he increases the speed to a pretty brisk jog. One that doesn’t encourage talk, at least not from him. Fine by me! I increase my speed as well, but it’s still not nearly as fast as Greyson is going. The damn show off! Several minutes later I decide I’m about done. I turn the machine off, and decide to leave.

“See ya around, beige!” He says once again as I’m leaving.

I’m fairly sure I heard beige that time. What the hell is his problem?

But I let it go. Trying to figure out Greyson will likely just confuse me when I should just forget about him, his little red shorts that showcase his muscular hairy legs and shapely ass, and his form fitting tee shirt which doesn’t even attempt to hide his rippling pectorals and rock hard abs. While I doubt he even thinks about me at all when I’m not around. So why should Greyson be getting so much free rent in my brain these last few days?

“Did you enjoy your workout?” Nick asks as soon as I return to the apartment.

“Meh,” I reply offhandedly. “It’s a lot busier in the evenings. I think I’m going to stick with early morning for my workouts before the crowd shows up.”

“Why? Was Jude Greyson there again?” Nick probes irritatingly. “I’ll bet he was! You just don’t want to run into him for whatever weird reason!”

“His first name is Jude?” I reply, taken aback as I head towards my room and a nice hot shower. “I can see why he goes by his last name.”

“Huh?” Nick says, obviously not understanding the significance.

I bet it really irritates that guy whenever people shout out ‘hey, Jude!’ I’ll never understand why some people hate their kids so much. Like Cheryl who very nearly named our half brother Braxton instead of Paxton, until it was pointed out to her that she’d be naming her kid after a type of pain. Our baby half sister got off much easier with the name Paige.

But the next time Greyson calls me ‘beige’, I now have a secret weapon that I can use to irritate him right back. Ha! We’ll see if he continues to call me beige after that.

Of course he’s not in the fitness room the next morning, not that I really wanted him to be. I’m only disappointed by his lack of appearance here because I wanted to use my secret weapon. I definitely don’t miss the eye candy, or at least that’s what I tell myself!

And he’s not in there Friday morning, either, so I’m the only one working out in here the entire time. Great! I’m really happy! I prefer to be alone, so I can just put in my AirPods and rock out to my favorite tunes while I get fit. And I’m thrilled to have a couple of Jude Greyson free days.

That is until I get home from work on Friday, exhausted, to find Greyson in my kitchen.

“What’s going on?” I ask. “Why are you here?”

“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with your oven,” he says, looking over at me with those gorgeous blue eyes of his. “Didn’t you call the office and complain that it wasn’t working?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” I reply, mystified. I decide I need to question my brother about this. “Hey, Nick!”

“He left 10 minutes ago,” Greyson informs me. “Apparently he was hungry because he hadn’t been able to heat up his lunch.”

Greyson opens the oven door to show me a disgusting looking no longer frozen pizza that clearly hasn’t been cooked.

“I’m not that great with electrical appliances,” Greyson says, standing up. “They are outside my area of expertise. But I’m guessing the oven will need to be replaced. I doubt I’ll be able to get you a new one before Monday.”

“Just great!” I say, irritated from hunger. “I had planned to bake salmon for dinner!”

“Sorry,” he says. “But I’m willing to take you to Lee’s pho king restaurant for dinner. My treat.”

I was a little taken aback, since he pronounced it Lee’s f*****g restaurant. I mean, I suppose that is technically the name. But it just seems so wrong.

“Do you suppose Lee knows what the name of his restaurant sounds like?” I can’t help but mutter out loud, and Greyson laughs.

“I’m a friend of Lee’s,” Greyson claims. “And he definitely knows.”