The jerks I have working for me don’t seem, to understand who holds the power of the paycheck in his frostbitten and mud-caked fingers. One more crack about me having Charlie’s pretty waitress in my motel room and jobs are on the line. The only guy who hasn’t chimed in yet is Mike’s replacement, sent down by Rand over the weekend.
Even Cliff is pushing the limits, and he knows better.
I’d laugh the whole thing off, but Everly does not deserve to have her name bandied about. I know these guys, and her reputation isn’t safe in their hands. Cliff would undoubtedly have kept silent, but sadly, Crawford recognized her and didn’t hesitate to pass his tale around. After that, even my foreman couldn’t help but join in.
And they say men don’t gossip.
My body warms at the thought of Saturday night, even thoughIknow nothing happened in that motel room. So much nothing. All. Night. Long.
An endless, torturous night, with the most appealing woman in the world inches from me, wrapped in my clothes.
I could happily make the arrangement a permanent one. Since the weekend, I think about that night, about her, nonstop.
The guys disperse because they’re not total morons and know what’s good for them, but around noon, Crawford and his buddies lay their hard hats aside and saunter over to the truck where I’ve had phone to ear wrangling with Rand over deadlines and delays. There’s a gleam in all their eyes when they invite me to ride along for lunch at Charlie’s.
“Can’t. Gotta get on a conference call in a minute.” I raise my finger and stare at each man, one by one, eye to eye. “If it gets back to me that any one of you says so much as a word to Everly about Saturday night, I’m coming for you, no holds barred.”
I must have put the exact right amount of zing on my words, because each and every one of them scampers off like a rat at the advent of light.
I’m happy to leave the slurping, sucking mud, exponentially worsened by melting snow, behind as I reach the trailer. Just maybe there’s enough time to inhale the grocery store ham sandwich I bought but didn’t have time for yesterday. The last good meal I ate was Sunday morning. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, and gourmet coffee.
Yes, breakfast the morning after our date was a treat. Good food and lots of laughter. Claire Wilkes is the epitome of a fine hostess. She welcomed me with open arms and accepted our account of the previous night at face value. I could have kissed her for that.
On the cheek, of course. If my hopes and dreams come true, Everly will be the last and only woman I ever kiss again.
The idea stops me at the top of the trailer steps, rare sunshine beating down on my head. Thoughts of the future died a quick death when Becca stomped on my hopes and dreams, grinding the pointy spike of her stiletto into my heart. It’s early days with Everly—even if it doesn’t feel that way—but the dormant dream center of my heart has begun floating test balloons featuring the idea of forever. Forever with Everly Wilkes.
I toss my hat onto the nearest chair and more or less inhale the soggy sandwich.
After the conference call, I rub my hands down my chapped face. Only Tuesday, yet I can’t wait for the week to end. If I had my way, my days would be all Everly, all the time.
But work is problem, problem, problem when what I need is solution, solution, solution.
At this point, the only good thing about my time in Texas is turning out to be Everly. To be sure, that’s no small thing, but she does provide a complication. I haven’t had this difficult a time concentrating since eighth grade math when Bailey Thompson glowed up over the summer and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I swear, it’s her fault algebra and I didn’t sync up until high school.
Everly and I managed one decent text exchange yesterday morning. Since, I’ve been in a communication desert. Except, of course, for fielding Rand’s calls, anxious ones prodding me about keeping the ball rolling around this disaster zone, as if I control the weather switch and have been playing around with it.
I fold my hands and tip my head back. Older brothers are double pains in the workplace.
I jerk awake when the trailer door slams in the outer office. Cliff appears in my doorway. “You alright, boss?”
I drag my hands down my face and try to shake off the sleepies. I must have dozed for a while if my foreman had to come looking. “Need coffee, I guess.” I fork my fingers through hair that feels matted with sweat, despite the low temps. Hard hats do a number on style.
He lifts the hard plastic hat off his head and dangles it by his thigh. Silver hair sticks to the sides of his scalp. “You sure that’s all? You seem kinda off.”
Kindais an understatement. Is there any chance Everly might like to run away from home together? We could enjoy a cozy little Christmas in a mountain village somewhere.
Yep, I’m a hazard alright.
I spin the chair around and pop a coffee pod into my personal machine. The commercial drip maker in the front office is for everyone. Hey, being the boss should have at least a perk or two—no pun intended.
“You sure you’re okay? Never have heard you threaten the guys that way before.”
I turn just enough to deliver a dubious smirk. “They’ve never been that obnoxious before.”
Cliff snorts. “You got selective amnesia if you believe that.”
I lower the handle until itpopsthe seal on the foil lid atop a cup of Italian roast. To my dismay, Cliff lowers himself into the guest chair across the desk. “You gonna share a cup of that fancy stuff with me while you’re at it?”
