A muscle in his cheek twitched.
I made myself stop looking at it. “They said they’d be about five minutes,” I finished, glancing toward the door one more time.
Rip’s nose wrinkled for a moment before he shoved his rag into one of the pockets of his coveralls and said carefully, “You didn’t ask me.”
I blinked. “Ask you?” For permission?
“For help,” he clarified, his voice tight.
Oh. “I figured you would tell them to help me.” I kept my voice even, calm, controlled. “It’s what you always do.” Then I couldn’t help it as I glanced toward the door one more time. “I didn’t want to waste your time when I can ask myself.”
His nose wrinkled again right around the time I said the middle sentence, and it didn’t go anywhere as I spoke. What I did notice was the way he crossed his arms over his chest, that gaze still locked on mine like he had no intention of moving it elsewhere. He tipped his chin back, giving me a good view of his long and strong neck. “What have I told you about wasting my time?” he asked in that same voice.
The skin along my spine instantly prickled, and I couldn’t help but feel this tiny stab of pain right in my heart. Indignation. That would have been the perfect word to describe how I felt right then.
That and betrayal.
And anger.
But mostly indignation.
I didn’t let myself get riled up as I said, “I don’t want to assume anything, Mr. Ripley.”
Okay, maybe theMr. Ripleypart was a little petty, but I wasn’t going to beat myself up over it.
When I glanced at Ripley’s face as I said the words, and watched the way the entire length of his jawline went tight, it didn’t make me feel any better. It made me feel like crap. I wasn’t trying to make him feel bad. I didn’t want that from him.
I didn’t want anything from him.
So I got myself back on track. “You have better things to do with your time. You have enough going on right now with Mr. Cooper being gone.” His dad. Not just Mr. Cooper. Hisdad.
He didn’t say a word. This massive man just stood there, watching me.
I kept going, my voice even… maybe a little monotone. “If there’s an issue, I’ll let you know, of course.”
Rip still didn’t respond.
Sliding my gaze toward the door, I willed it to open and Ashton and Owen to be there, ready to help.
But nothing happened. The story of my life.
“I appreciate you checking though, but we can move it on our own, I think,” I finished, keeping my voice the same businesslike way I would have used on any other boss I would have, except Mr. Cooper—and Rip if this had been months ago.
But this was what he wanted, and this was what I would give him.
So when he took four long steps toward me, stopping the exact moment the tips of his boots met mine, his hand nudging my chin upward, I held my breath. Because Rip wasright there. In my space. Forcing me to look at him.
And look at him I did.
I looked at the tattoos peeking out from just above the hem of the slight turtleneck coverage his compression shirt gave him. Took in the tiny dark shapes just above the hem. I took in the very faint stubble across the underside of his chin and over the lower half of his face. I took in that almost thin pink mouth pulled into a line at the angry expression he was shooting my way.
And I took in the way his eyes seemed to be blazing down at me.
Like he either wanted to yell at me or something else.
I didn’t know what that “something else” was, but from the line of his jaw, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Rip’s chin tipped down lower, drawing his face even closer to mine. “Can we be done with this?” he asked, his voice rough and so low I could barely hear him.
