For a moment, I don’t breathe. Not because I don’t want the job. God knows I do. It would save my company, give me the chance to buy out Calista, and put my entire life back on track.
But…
My crew is thin. The company is bleeding. I’m balancing fatherhood, financial ruin, and the aftermath of a divorce that chewed through my sanity.
And working here means working around Ella. Every day, on her land, in her orbit, with her eyes finding mine like they always do.
I rub my jaw. “Hank… that’s—that’s more than a job. It’s a full-scale development.”
“We know,” Hank says evenly. “We trust you.”
My throat tightens at that.
“You’ve always done right by us,” Zane adds. “Which is why we think you’re the best fit.”
I inhale slowly, mind racing. I don’t want to disappoint them or seem incapable, but I also don’t want to accept a job I might not be able to execute perfectly.
I pause for a moment too long because Ella speaks up. “I told them you are the right man for the job.”
Heat rolls under my skin, sharp and instant.
“I need time,” I request finally, voice low. “I don’t want to take something on if I’m not sure I can commit every resource to it. Not half-assed. Not rushed. And definitely not flawed.”
Jace nods. “That’s fair.”
“We’ll give you time,” Hank says. “But don’t take too long, son. We’d like to get moving soon.”
“Understood.”
The men stand one by one, offering nods. When they file out, Ella stays put, waiting, watching me. Her hands twist together nervously, and when she finally steps forward, I swear the room shrinks around us.
“I’ll walk you out,” she smiles and starts walking without waiting for my response. “I’m sorry I freaked you out earlier,” she murmurs once we’re alone in the hallway.
“You did,” I admit. “I thought Hank was about to break my jaw.”
She winces. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
We walk toward the porch. She’s quiet for a few steps, shoes clicking on hardwood, heart practically beating out of her skin. I can hear it in the silence.
I study her profile, the soft curve of her cheek, the way her mouth presses together like she’s holding something back. She’s beautiful. Even more beautiful when she’s nervous.
“You really are perfect for the job,” she praises softly. “The project needs someone like you, and I know you’d make something beautiful.”
I stop halfway down the steps, and she stops too.
The sunlight catches her hair, turning the strands gold and warm. I want to touch it, touch her. I want—
“I don’t know if working here is a good idea,” I admit, voice rough.
Her throat tightens. “Because of me.”
I don’t deny it. I can’t.
“There’s a line,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to cross it again.”
Her eyes soften, but her jaw lifts the tiniest inch. “Then don’t cross it. But don’t punish yourself by walking away from something that could change your life.”
