by Grey, R. S.
Oh shit.
His mouth is puffed up like he’s just eaten something he’s allergic to. The lower half of his jaw is red and starting to bruise.
When he sees me, I expect the same treatment from this morning, but instead, his eyes widen in fear.
What the heck happened while I was at lunch!?
I stand stock-still, but they continue walking until we’re only separated by a few feet. Then Steven nudges Grant forward with a shove.
He shoots the older man a searing glare over his shoulder and then straightens his shirt before coming to stand in front of me. For a few tense seconds, our eyes lock and I can feel his disdain for me pluming off him. Then he speaks and his tone is sharply clipped. “I’d like to apologize for what I insinuated this morning. I realize I was wrong about you.”
My jaw drops.
His gaze flicks over my shoulder, out onto the path behind me, as he continues. It’s clear he’d rather be eating dirt than apologizing to me right now. “I thought I was being funny, but my partners have pointed out that I was wrong.”
“Say the rest,” Brad adds with an unyielding tone.
“From this day forward, I won’t talk to you—”
“Or,” Steven goads.
“Or so much as look at you if it’s not directly related to Lockwood Construction business.”
It’s obvious he’s repeating words that were drilled into him, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that Ethan was behind his swollen lip.
My stomach knots with tension. “It’s fine.”
“It’s really not,” Steven insists, eyeing me gently. “He could have gotten this company into a hell of a lot of trouble if you’d decided to press harassment charges.”
My gaze flicks back to Grant and I realize we’re even now. He won’t press charges against Ethan for a busted lip and I won’t report him to HR—or worse, the media.
Grant glances down at me and frowns. “For what it’s worth, this morning was more about getting under Ethan’s skin than yours. He and I have always had a tenuous relationship. I realize now I took it too far.”
I nod as Steven and Brad come up behind him, clapping him on the shoulder and pushing him forward brusquely. I step out of their way and watch as they disappear down the path.
When I make it to the cabin, I find Ethan sitting on the top stair, waiting for me.
He’s fuming.
Chapter 30
Ethan
Boots crunching along the gravel path tug me out of my angry reverie. I look up just in time to watch Taylor make her way to the bottom of the stairs and stop on a dime. She’s chewing her bottom lip. Her brown eyes are filled with guilt and she’s got one arm wrapped around her stomach, her hand clutching her other elbow.
She looks like she’s the one at fault for the events that transpired this morning, and I won’t allow it.
“I suppose I should apologize for Grant. He’s always been an ass, but this morning he went too far.”
“You punched him?”
I flex my hand, surprised my knuckles don’t ache. “Just once. I’ll have you know, I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while.”
She doesn’t let my smirk soothe her worries. “I really hate that guy.”
“Truth be told, we all do. I doubt he’ll be with Lockwood much longer.”
Her eyes widen. “Hopefully not because of today?”
Of course she feels bad for him, a man who doesn’t deserve an ounce of her pity. She doesn’t know what he said to me after lunch, while we were surveying the cabin sites for phase two of construction. If she knew what Grant had called her…if she knew he asked me to pass her along to him when I was finished…
“Believe me, he doesn’t deserve your pity.”
She rocks back on her heels and looks away. “God, this has been a horrible morning.”
“Because of Grant?”
“Yes, and…” She shakes her head and sighs, long and heavy. “I found out the crew knows about us.”
I arch a brow. Is that such a terrible thing?
“Max sort of guessed it this morning, and I didn’t want to lie.”
“Good. I’d rather they know.”
Her gaze flies back to me. “Of course, because you never cared if they knew. It’s me who has to walk around this jobsite with everyone wondering why I’m here. I already seemed out of place before. Now it’s obvious I’m only here to amuse you, just like Grant said. It’s like I’m a groupie or a whor—”
“Don’t say it!”
My booming voice catches her off guard and she steps back.
I’m still angry that Grant used that word to describe her, and I don’t want to hear it again, much less from her own lips.
Unfortunately, it seems like we’re both stewing about more than just Grant. She’s upset the crew knows about us. I’m stressed about making all the right decisions where she’s concerned. This relationship has been on par with walking a tight rope from the very beginning.
She wants our relationship to be a secret, so I’ve done it.
She wants me to mind my own business and let her sort out her life herself, so I have.
She expects me to listen to her talk to her family and not help even though I’d barely have to lift a finger to solve her problems. It’s tearing me up inside. They’re working so hard to get that damn car out of the shop and I know it’s a hulking piece of shit.
I want to provide for her and protect her and cherish her, and she wants none of it.
I stand up and stomp down the stairs, knowing we won’t get anywhere right now. I still need to cool off.
“Take the afternoon off.”
“No. There’s work to do.”
I shoot a glare at her. “Taylor, don’t test me right now. I beg you, for once, listen to what I tell you.”
She scowls. “I’ll work here, cleaning the cabin. I’ll stay out of your hair.”
“Fine.”
* * *
Taylor listens. Barely. She doesn’t come into the trailer again, but she doesn’t stay in the cabin either. When I walk back to camp after sending off Brad and Steven, I see her talking to Robert and the guys, rushing off to do their bidding. At various points in the day, I see her with a tape measure in hand, two coffees, a stack of blueprints, a level, and Hudson’s laptop. She’s running around being everything to everyone. She’s more eager than ever to be useful, which I suppose is her way of ensuring everyone knows she’s here for the right reasons.
I wish she’d trust that I have her best interests at heart. She thinks so little of this crew—expects them to act just like Grant—when in fact, none of them give two shits what she and I are doing in our personal life. Who cares if Max knows? If Hudson knows? They’ll get over it.
But I’ve said my piece and I won’t push her on it.
At dinner time, I walk into the mess hall and she’s sitting with her friends, but her food goes untouched on her plate.
She spots me right away because her gaze was already pinned to the door. I know she was waiting for me, and I wonder if that seat beside her is empty because she wants me to sit in it. In the end, it doesn’t matter because Hudson steals it before I can make a move.
Taylor’s expression deflates, but I’m not sure why. Isn’t this for the best? She wants us to fly under the radar, so that’s what we’ll do.
After we finish eating, I stay outside and chat with Robert and a few of the other guys. I’m having a pretty good time, right up until I watch Taylor walk out with Max.
Her gaze is aimed on the ground as he leans in to talk to her. What the fuck is so important he has to whisper it to her? He looks desperate for her to hear him out. His hands clasp together and I swear I see him say, “I’m sorry.”
It’s one thing for her to eat with her friends, but I’m not going to sit around watching her have an intimate conversation with Max. I push to stand. Taylor looks over, finds me, and I glance pointedly toward the path that leads to our cabin. The invitati
on is obvious and I don’t wait around to see if she accepts, tossing a farewell to the guys and setting off down the path. Taylor arrives fifteen minutes later, after I’ve showered, just as the first round of thunder sounds in the distance.
We’ve been lucky with rain so far on this project, and I hope it stays that way. I don’t want any delays.
I’m in the bathroom, brushing my teeth when she strolls in. I watch her in the reflection of the fogged mirror, aware of the tension she brought in with her. Maybe it’s just the storm brewing outside, or maybe we’re not done fighting. I spit and rinse my mouth then walk out to lean my shoulder against the post of the bunk bed. She’s opening and slamming drawers, grabbing an oversized t-shirt.
I’ve calmed down a lot since this afternoon, but apparently, Taylor’s even more worked up.
“Seems like you’ve got something on your mind,” I say, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.
I should have. It pisses her off.
She slams another drawer. “Yup.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Her eyes narrow on me. “Not really.”
Then she turns and locks herself in the bathroom while she showers.
I know I need to wipe the arrogant smirk off my face by the time she’s done. She’s upset, and I should be too, but I can’t seem to fake the feeling. Taylor riles me up. This feisty side of her is just as compelling as the sweet, soft version she’s shown me in recent weeks.
When that bathroom door opens again, I’m reading on the bottom bunk. I let the book fall on my chest and take her in: dark hair framing her alluring features as she walks over to the desk and grabs a bottle of lotion. Camille or Isla must have left it here, but she’s using it now, moisturizing one leg and then the other. I watch her, mesmerized—imagining those long legs wrapped around my waist.
Last night, at this time, I was kissing my way down her body. Now, she won’t even look at me. It’s fine. I enjoy a challenge.
“Would you mind turning the lamp off when you’re done? I’m going to bed early.”
She shoots daggers at me over her shoulder.
Then, as quickly as she can, she yanks that lantern toward her and turns it off. We’re plunged into darkness.
It was slightly premature on her part considering she hasn’t finished getting ready for bed. That only makes her angrier—the fact that she has to tote that lantern with her into the bathroom so she can brush her teeth. When she walks back out, she slams it onto the desk, turns it off, and then walks toward the bunk, stubbing her toe in the process.
She curses under her breath and I ask if she’s all right.
“Fine,” she bites out.
She’s about to pass me by to climb up the ladder, but I reach for her wrist and tug her closer.
“Sure you don’t want to talk about today?”
“Positive.”
“All right. Then, good night,” I say, sitting up so my face is almost level with hers in the shallow darkness.
I want a goodnight kiss and she knows it, but even that small gesture is a concession on her part. She leans down quickly and kisses my cheek. I grin and keep my hand on her wrist as she tries to pull it away.
“Taylor.”
“You’re pushing your luck,” she warns.
Ah, I’m learning so much about her. When she angry, she’s even more stubborn than usual. She didn’t have a good day and maybe she feels like I had something to do with that, or maybe she just wants to use me as a punching bag. Either way, I’m happy to push my luck.
I reach up to curve my other hand behind her neck, up under her hair. She shivers as I tug her down toward me and press a kiss to her lips. It’s a kiss that says, You can be mad at me all you want, but we’re still in this together.
She sighs and I release her so she can scale the ladder quickly and burrow under her covers.
Neither one of us goes to sleep easily.
The thunder picks up, and eventually, the rain starts.
I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when I hear rustling in the cabin. I blink my eyes open and there’s Taylor, making a pallet for herself on the ground.
“What are you doing?” I ask, sleep evident in my voice.
“There’s a leak in the roof and water was dripping on my head. My pillow’s soaked.”
“I can’t fix it tonight,” I say, still half-asleep and not thinking straight.
“I didn’t ask you to fix it. I put a bucket up there for now. It’s a slow enough leak that it should be fine until morning.”
Right.
She growls as she tries to get her blanket to lie flat.
I dig at my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to wake myself up. Then I wrestle the sheet off me.
“I’m not letting you sleep on the ground. Take my bunk. I’ll go sleep somewhere else—”
A tree branch crashes against the windowpane. I’d be an idiot to leave this cabin right now.
“Or maybe I’ll just take the floor.”
“It’s fine,” she says, dropping down onto her thin palette and tugging her sheet up to her neck. It’s adorable, the idea that she thinks I’ll let her get away with sleeping there.
I lean down and haul her up off the ground, sheet and all.
“Ethan!” she protests, flinging her arms around my neck like she’s scared I’ll drop her.
I set her on the bottom bunk, push her toward the wall, and slide right in after her.
The bed feels tiny when I’m alone. With her, it’s microscopic. The only way we’ll both fit is if I gather her against me and envelop her in my arms, so I do. I feel better than I have all day.
Her head is nestled under my chin and her cheek is pressed against my chest. I can feel her eyelashes flutter against my skin. She’s not closing her eyes and going to sleep like I want her to.
“Taylor?” I ask, one final time. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
My heart’s breaking. Earlier today on the porch, I was worried I couldn’t continue with the way things are between us, especially having to keep our relationship a secret. Now, having her in my arms, I realize I’m willing to do just about anything to keep her. Even if that means shutting up and acting like she doesn’t exist during the day. Even if that means pretending she doesn’t mean the fucking world to me when other people are around.
She shakes her head and stays quiet. It’s obvious she has a lot on her mind, things she’s not quite prepared to say out loud.
I whisper against her ear. “Tell me in the morning?”
The wind howls outside and the thunder rumbles.
She kisses my chest but never responds.
Chapter 31
Taylor
I wake up the next morning to the sound of hammering.
Groggily, I push myself up out of bed and stumble onto the porch, peering up to find Ethan hard at work on the roof, repairing the leak. His t-shirt is already drenched in sweat. A toolbelt hangs around his waist and he’s leaning over, slamming his hammer down onto a nail.
His brown hair needs a trim, but I secretly love the extra length. With it so disheveled, he looks like a farmhand about to drag me into a barn and have his wicked way with me.
Oh right, I’m supposed to be angry.
Why is that again?
Yesterday was a blur, one of those days where nothing goes right and everyone seems to be to blame. Max started the ball rolling then Grant made it ten times worse. Then I was annoyed with Ethan for ordering me to stay at the cabin and for not being more concerned about everyone knowing our business. It didn’t help when he all but ignored me at dinner. Yeah, yeah, I realize I didn’t give him much of a choice there, but what am I supposed to do? What happens when everyone knows about us and they all react just like Grant did?
I had every intention of picking up my anger right where I left it last night, but sleep did what sleep does, and now yesterday’s fight just doesn’t seem all that important in the light of day, not to mention I did a lot of thin
king before I finally nodded off, and I managed to come to a few realizations.
Ethan finally notices I’m out here watching him, and he pauses, sitting back on his heels.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he says, sounding like he means it.
I realize with my hand up, shielding my eyes from the sun, my t-shirt’s hiked up on my thighs, all but revealing the bottom of my panties. I went to bed with my hair damp, so now it’s a wild, curly mess. I’m sure I have bags under my eyes from lack of sleep and a pillow mark on my cheek, but his appreciative gaze makes me blush.
“Still angry with me?” he asks, tilting his head.
He looks like a devilish angel up there with the sun outlining him from behind and his dimpled smirk softening his handsome features. The oxymoron never fit a soul better.
“Maybe,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Suits me either way. Maybe when I’m finished with this roof, I’ll come down there and coax you out of that bad mood.”
It’s a promise that has my spine tingling, and I decide maybe I won’t throw in the towel just yet. If he’s so intent on coaxing me, there’s no point in telling him I’m not quite so mad anymore. In fact, I’m not mad at all.
I considered things quite a bit while I was lying awake in Ethan’s arms, listening to the rain, not just about my relationship with him and how we’ll navigate this tricky situation, but also about what could have happened if things had played out differently with Grant. If Ethan hadn’t handled the situation, I would have been stuck dealing with him myself. How long would I have had to suffer? Grant wasn’t the first man to mistreat me like that. I’ve dealt with men like him in all of my previous jobs, and it seems to be so easy for them to back me into a corner. They can say and do whatever they want because they know how badly I need the work. Without much education, I’m in a desperate position, and they take advantage.