“Beneficiary. Paperwork for my primary beneficiary. I was supposed to update that and haven’t. Yeah,” he says, sucking in his bottom lip. He’s so cute standing here like that, and momentarily, I imagine what that bottom lip might taste like. Heat races into my cheeks when I realize he is staring at me staring at him.
“Right,” I say and quickly nod as I walk back to my cubicle, narrowing my eyes between the Maysons, who pretend to kiss the air. I mouth the wordsCut it outto them and open the file cabinet at my desk, riffling through the folder with the insurance claims paperwork and employee beneficiary enrollment forms. I don’t say anything about the fact that this is Ruin’s third time requesting the very same document, or that he hasn’t returned any of the other ones. As I hand it over to him, his fingers brush across mine and goose bumps race down my neck.
“Thanks,” he says.
“Don’t mention it.”
He turns to leave and stops.
“Avalee,” he starts but is interrupted.
“Avalee?” Jax and Asher ask at the same time and pitch.
I pinch my lips and grunt but hold Ruin’s attention. “Yeah?”
“Do you want to go to lunch?”
My heart flips again, and little balls of excitement ping-pong around in my stomach. “Sure. How about today? My break is in an hour.”
He checks his watch. “Okay, yeah. See you soon.” Then he turns and leaves.
The door has hardly closed, and the Maysons are hooting and hollering behind me. I blush and roll my eyes to the ceiling.Men,I think.
“Told ya so,” Jax says.
I hear the telltale sound of a congratulatory high five and sigh. “It’s not like that,” I growl and storm out of the office. I need to get away and collect myself. Plus, I want to check myself in the mirror. On the off chance I just agreed to a spontaneous, midday lunch date with my childhood crush, I want to feel fresh.
When I come back, the mood in the office has shifted. I notice a familiar person standing beside my cubicle and smile.
“Trevor, how are you today?” I greet Mr. Mayson with a smile, and he returns it, opening his arms up for a big bear hug. He reminds me so much of my own father that I don’t mind and relish it—he even smells like my father, hints of pine and aftershave.
“How is my favorite little Virtue? Your pa called and asked me to check in on you, and it’s a good thing I did. Jax tells me you and Ruin Lautner are going on a date today?” His deep voice takes on a serious note that I am unfamiliar with.
I pull back from the hug and look up into his watery green eyes. Trevor Mayson is heavyset and nearing sixty, but he’s a tank of a man, and he and my father go way back. That’s one of the other reasons I was able to get this position so easily.
“I wouldn’t say it’s a date so much as old friends reconnecting while having a meal together. That’s all.”I wish my father would give me some space too. All of these men are suffocating me!
He frowns and takes a step back toward the window. I follow him and then his gaze to Ruin driving a forklift loaded with oil-coated pallets.
“Ruin is one of the good ones out of that whole bunch, don’t get me wrong. But he sure did draw the unlucky straw being born into that crazy family.” Trevor sighs, his breath fogging up the glass. “Anyhow—” he turns to face me and takes my hand in his “—just be careful, okay? I don’t need your pa comin’ down on my head. We go back many years, but I doubt that would stop him from dishin’ out some hurtin’ when it comes to you, little Virtue.”
Once again, a Mayson man is correct. If there is anyone who would stop at nothing to ensure my safety, it is my father.If my father knew he was now part of the problem, the reason I left…it would crush him.
Five
Avalee
past
“Daddy,” I said and reached for a big spoonful of loaded mashed potatoes. My mother set a basket of steaming rolls in front of me, and I snuck a few of them into a napkin.
“Yes, Virtue?” My dad’s husky voice was full of affection as he filled a glass with orange juice from a crystal pitcher.
“Can I bring a friend to dinner one Sunday?”
“Well, isn’t that sweet, sugar. I don’t see why not,” he said, picking up a roll in one hand and sliding a butter knife through a soft stick of butter with the other before slathering it across the bread. “Who is this friend? Is it Charlotte? Rosie?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s a boy from school.”
