Dragon's Curvy Concierge Read online

  Dragon’s Curvy Concierge

  Mychal Daniels

  Wise Mind Media

  Dragon’s Curvy Concierge Copyright © 2018 by Michelle Spiva for Wise Mind Media

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author and publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Edited by: Dr. Cindy Cork

  Cover Design: Michelle Spiva

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Also by Mychal Daniels

  Summary

  Dragon’s Curvy Concierge

  By Mychal Daniels

  “I don’t know what you heard about me, but I’m not in that sort of business. I’m a concierge, not a concubine!”

  To her retreating back, he lobbed, “And, I want neither of those. I want you.”

  When Bronwyn Scott finds herself way over her head as the first time business owner of a personal concierge service, she’s not about to fall for a rich mystery man trying to test her professionalism at every turn.

  Determined to make her business a great success to find and show the mother who left her at birth that she made something of herself, Bronwyn has no time for games or entitled, gorgeous rich dudes.

  MacMillan “Mac” Kelnar is at that time in his life where his business can run itself, he’s successful, powerful, and a mature Dragon who’s paid his dues.

  When he sees his mate across the parking lot of a Home Improvement Center parking lot as she suffers a hit and run, he’ll stop at nothing to have her, even if that means pretending to hire her as his personal concierge.

  Determined to have his mate, this Dragon will stop at nothing until his mate realizes that the only services he’s interested in are having all of her.

  1

  Bronwyn Scott

  “Eek! You son of a bitch!”

  Bronwyn Scott’s heart flipped as her chest crashed into the steering wheel. Scraping sounds of metal against metal reverberated through the interior of her only means of transportation and livelihood. A fast-moving vehicle attacked her old and rusty but precious work van. A quick look and her hunch was right. She couldn’t make out anything from her side mirrors. Neither of the back doors had windows. Again, that handicap of not having back windows was biting her in the butt.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  Her body shook from the impact of the hit. That bastard had hit her hard enough to rock the entire vehicle. Rushing to get out of her seatbelt to stop this idiot from utterly annihilating the back of her work van, Bronwyn jumped out in time to see the tail end of the culprit’s rapid retreat. She spat out the huge gulp of toxic fumes she’d taken in trying to catch him before he left. Looking after an everyday usual white work truck that had just side-swiped her already dented ride, she couldn’t make out the license plate or any special markings.

  Figured. Another thing to put on the list of stuff she had to find a way to afford to fix. Bronwyn Scott was a survivor though. Orphaned as a baby, working since she aged out of the foster-care system, and now as the sole owner of Bron & Beauty Personal Concierge Services, she wasn’t about to get side-tracked by a parking lot side swipe.

  Anger was buzzing within with no place to go; she kicked a huge granite rock that must have fallen from the bed of another truck. Being here in the parking lot of a contractor’s warehouse and supply store, there was no telling what might be out here on the ground—nails, rocks, tacks—or whoever might ram into her without a backward glance.

  No use crying, staying upset or expecting anyone to come and rescue her from her crappy day. That wasn’t her life, and this wasn’t some fairy tale. She still had a job to do and a client was waiting. Sucking up the anger that would do her no use to indulge in, she reminded herself why she did this. To finance her quest to find her birth mother, see if she had any siblings, and make something of herself her mother would be proud of in a daughter.

  Bronwyn didn’t hear the man approaching.

  “Ma’am, are you, all right?”

  The southern accent that accompanied those words held concern and curiosity.

  Spinning around to see who the voice belonged to, Bronwyn turned to see a tall, sturdy, muscular, young guy with the boy next door looks approaching her. The dark SUV with tinted windows behind him had the driver’s door open.

  Nodding to the idling vehicle, she wanted to make sure he didn’t suffer a similar fate as her for being a Good Samaritan. “Hey, you ought to move your car. Can’t you see it’s Demolition Derby out here today?”

  “Nah, it’ll be okay. The boss won’t let anyone get away with hitting it.”

  He moved fast, making it to the back doors of her van in seconds. Giving her another harmless once over, he nodded as if convinced she was all right.

  “I saw what happened but couldn’t get the license plate numbers. That truck looks like a million others that come through here. Sorry, but seems like he tore you up good.”

  Bronwyn felt eyes on her that weren’t this fella’s. She looked around, settling on the running SUV. It sat less than twenty feet away on another aisle of parking spots. The windows and interior were dark, but she could swear someone in it watched her—hard—from within.

  Shaking off the intense feeling of being sized up, she forced her attention back to the kind young man. “Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get that fixed or opened anytime soon. Thankfully, he didn’t manage to get the side sliding door.”

  “Yeah, but I wonder if I can get the doors to release so you can still use them?”

  She didn’t want him fiddling around with her baby. This van had been on its last leg for a while but seemed to know how much she needed it to work for her. It was sensitive and Bronwyn wasn’t sure how it would respond to another person putting hands on it. She took in breath preparing to protest but was too late. With a few pulls, the guy was able to wrench one of the doors free to open the back.

  “Whelp looks like you’re going to need to get that fixed.” He looked at the warped locking mechanism in the width of the door. “Yep, it’s busted. I don’t think you’ll be able to get it to close properly again.”

  “You don’t say?” Her sarcasm dripped with acid as Bronwyn eyed the door that looked more like a shot goose, limp and laying bare and open. How was she going to keep all her materials from falling out the back as she drove around? Deciding to cut her losses while she still could, it w
as time to treat him like a client to get the guy gone. “Thank you so much!” Maybe her tone was too bright to pass as sincere, but she wanted the man to feel rewarded for his heroics and get the hell on. Now, not only did she have to get the dents out of the back doors, it looked like with all his pulling, the latch to close the door was stripped too.

  Great, men and their need to feel macho. Lord deliver her from the sort. Then on second thought, she took it back. This was the type of man her company was geared toward. Regrouping to salvage a potential client, Bronwyn, went to the driver’s side and got a card from her console. Handing the card to the guy, she took pleasure in seeing his confusion.

  “What’s this?” He eyed the card and started to read.

  “It’s my way of saying thank you. I’m a personal concierge for single guys.”

  “What? I don’t think I’m into that sort of thing.”

  “Haha, no not an escort. I’m like a life manager for the guy who’s too busy running his business to focus on the mundane like, let’s say, feeding himself, having his clothes picked up from the cleaners, running errands, finding and keeping a housekeeper? You know, stuff like that.”

  The guy nodded, mouth slightly open as if still in a haze of confusion. Seeing this was not a prospect, Bronwyn had to redeem the time and get these materials over to her client’s house before nightfall.

  “I think I might know some guys who would need this. I’m good—I live behind one of my friends and his wife in the backyard in a tiny house I built myself.”

  “That’s great!” Again, with the too cheery response, she had to tone it down, but get him moving. Bronwyn’s mind already buzzed with how she could go back inside and buy some strong zip ties to hold the door closed enough to get her to Ollie’s place.

  Her would-be hero smiled and put the card in his jean’s pocket. Stretching out a hand, he smiled again. “Thanks for the card, Bronwyn. My name’s Danny. I’ll be sure to let some dudes I know in on what you do. It’s cool, and they need the help.”

  “Thanks. Make sure they can afford me. This is a business and not a charity.” She tried to float that one with a laugh, but she was dead serious. No busted, broke, jerks allowed.

  Bronwyn had a code she lived by. She didn’t raise or take care of anything she didn’t birth, and she was a reluctant virgin. As a proud business owner and woman, that was one of the first lessons she’d learned. Don’t work for guys trying to turn her into their mother. They were usually too demanding and not willing to pay for her services. No thank you. It didn’t matter how much they needed her help; she wouldn’t budge. That didn’t pay her grown up bills that marched in every month like clockwork.

  Her attention drifted back to the black SUV off in the short distance. Again, the sensation of someone watching her was hard to shake. Instead of turning around and walking over to the car to see who was eyeing her down from inside, she offered Danny a smile and returned his handshake.

  With the pleasantries done, she turned to walk back to the driver’s side door. Thankfully, the guy took the hint and started back on his way as well. When she was behind the wheel, Bronwyn took a moment to reset. Her nerves were on the verge of derailing.

  “Think, Bron, you got this.”

  She waited until the black SUV turned out of the parking lot and was on its way back into late afternoon traffic. Jumping out the car again, she had to make this quick. There were only about ninety minutes left for her to make it through traffic, drop off these materials before the work crew left and get paid for the errand.

  With the zip ties holding the door in place, Bronwyn left the parking lot, driving slow like a stuffed Sunday Church driver on the way home from the local buffet. A few turns that had her clawing the steering wheel and she was at her client’s home with twenty minutes to spare.

  2

  Bronwyn

  “Yeah, I’ll take it. Thanks for looking out.” Bronwyn took the post-it note from Ollie and absently put the contact information into her phone before handing the bright yellow paper back to him. “Coming from you, I’m sure the guy’s all right.”

  “He’s a friend of a friend, but from what I hear he can well afford you.”

  “You know me well.”

  “No, you trained me well,” Ollie corrected. “There’s no way I’m messing up my goodwill bank with you.”

  Ollie Dresden was one of Bronwyn’s inaugural clients.

  To get her business off the ground, Bronwyn had used her sense of hustle to find her customers in their natural habitat. She’d hung out, no more like stalked, the equipment counter at the largest Do-It-Yourself home improvement centers looking for her prey—ahem clients. Noticing he had the right mix of confusion and frustration with a dash of desperation, Bronwyn had swooped in to offer her services. Ollie had taken a chance and hired her without hesitation. For that, she’d be always thankful. Almost a year into her business and here she was still providing him with personal concierge services that he gladly used and paid timely for.

  Ollie looked at the stacks of lumber and building supplies in his backyard storage unit. “Bronwyn, without you, there’s no way I could have gotten all these materials here on a weekday before the guys left. Thanks for another great job—and for dinner too!”

  The smile that stretched her facial muscles must have looked goofy because she always got this way when her guys gushed over her hard work. His compliment almost made her forget the hit and run her work van had sustained running his errand. She wouldn’t let on how hard it had been getting the materials here with her newly busted back doors. Visions too many to count of how his lumber could have been splayed out on the highway still haunted her.

  Shaking the thought, she kept it light. Ollie was a jovial sort. She wouldn’t dampen the mood with her issues. The cost of doing business should stay behind the scenes. He was a client and as far as he’d ever know everything was great.

  “Yeah, well no one told you to buy that little pimple of a car.”

  “Hey, no ragging on my car baby. She’s excellent on gas, and I can always make a parking space downtown.”

  “That car is cute and all, but useless for this expansion project you’ve got going on.” Then thinking better of her argument, Bronwyn changed the course of her words. “On second thought, you keep driving that ladybug of a car and paying me to pick up stuff for your project.”

  “And don’t forget dinner too.”

  “Nope, can’t forget dinner either.”

  “You always know the best places for take-out. That alone should be a super power. Don’t ever leave me, Bron,” Ollie said, cupping his hands over his heart to mimic his beating heart. “I’d starve without you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Your girl wouldn’t allow it.”

  “Hah, her idea of seasoning is salt and pepper.”

  “Still don’t have the heart to tell her, do you?”

  “Nah, she’s beautiful and loves me right, but the woman can’t cook to save her cat’s life.”

  Bronwyn laughed, enjoying how relaxed he was around her. Over the last year, she’d been able to find a nice balance between business and client relationship with him. It was comfortable working with him. She could see herself cloning him, but doubling what she charged the clones. Done with the job and the need to get a move on, Ollie sensed her need to leave. He led them back into the house through the back porch. This area would be an extended sunroom and study in a few months. When he walked her to the front door, as was the southern manners way, he said pointing at her phone, “Don’t forget to call that guy. My friend said he’d be an easy client to acquire and use your services.”

  “Thanks, Ollie. Appreciate you looking out for me.”

  “Yeah, I have to. You’re the only woman Jenny will allow around me without her.”

  That was another thing that helped sell her services. Bronwyn was a non-threatening, average looking, full-figured, black girl who ran errands. She moved around these men with a cloak of invisibility and air of t
he maternal they longed for. The girlfriends saw her as the non-threatening personal assistant, as some of them had called her. She couldn’t care less about what they called her as long as their men paid on time and used her services on a regular basis.

  Bronwyn’s mantra and daily intention were to own the designation of the best personal concierge for single guys in Atlanta. She’d found her calling, and it suited her well. Being incognito was the way she liked to go about her business. The last thing she wanted or needed was to have a reputation of causing strife with the girlfriends, or in a few cases, the boyfriends.

  Deciding to take her natural ability to provide excellent service that she’d honed during her time working at the airport, Bronwyn had managed to turn those skills into dollar bills. Taking another tip from her time there, she’d realized the best group to focus on was the often-perplexed single guys she’d helped. It was like being the kindly, doting sister to a lot of them.

  As a personal concierge to this group, the bonus was that she was never a threat to any of their girlfriends. Best described as pudgy with nothing striking or stand out about her, Bronwyn was so far from these types of guy’s tastes that any advances from them would be laughable. So far, her clientele was affluent or darn near close to it, with drives and ambitions that left little time to pay attention to her except to use her services.

  Even though she was making it up as she went, Bronwyn learned quickly to meet the significant other. After meeting Bronwyn and assuring herself that she was way hotter than the personal concierge, Bronwyn was given the golden nod of approval by the girlfriend. If nothing else zinged her gut, Bronwyn would take on the client.