Commanding Casey

by Nicolina Martin

  Maybe except Alex.

  I still don’t know why he’s so mean, and why he’s giving me the silent treatment. No one else here behaves that way. Some are still hitting on me, some treat me like a workmate, some have even expressed that they think I do good work.

  But Cole Hooper hates me.

  Max’s office is empty and dark. It’s dusty and reeks of locker room and old socks. I sign my name on the sheet. Long distance calls are monitored and the cost is pulled off the salary.

  “Leroy speaking.”

  “Papa.”

  I feel a desperate need for my family. I’ve never been so far away, and for so long. The cold, the hostility, the dark, and now this... Cole moving in. It fucks with my mind.

  “How’s them engines doin’? They keep you busy?”

  “Very busy.”

  “Are you cold? Is there any daylight?”

  “It’s cold. I’m keeping feet and head warm, Papa. There’s only like an hour of daylight now.”

  “That is depressing. They treating you all right? You one of the boys yet?”

  I am so not, but what’s the use worrying my dad? “You know me. ‘Course I am. Always. How’s the garage? Dale had his baby yet?”

  Dad launches into a long story about the latest news and I listen with half an ear as my stomach clenches from the thought of what awaits me tonight.

  “Kid?”

  “Yes, sorry. Is Mom there?”

  He inhales and then exhales heavily. “She had to go see Granny.”

  “Why? What’s wrong, Dad?”

  “It’s all good. No worries. She has that leg ulcer. Her blood sugar, you know. It’s difficult, but no worries, nothing to worry ‘bout.”

  “Are you sure? I’ll call you back as soon as I can. When’ll she be home?”

  “Tomorrow, for sure. She has her book club.”

  I smile. Man, I wish home wasn’t so far off, the sun and the sea, the palm trees and the white-hot broken concrete on the sidewalks. The sturdy rough grass that relentlessly finds its way up through the cracks. I miss the smell of car exhaust, of rubber burning the asphalt, the sounds of revving engines.

  But... getting far away was the whole point, though.

  “Cool. Tell her I said hi.”

  We say our goodbyes. Filled with trepidation, my nerves a jittery bundle that crawls with unease, I make my way back to my trailer and then the wait begins.

  I didn’t believe my ears when Max broke the news. I was elbow deep in grease, fixing a faulty valve, when he suddenly showed up.

  “We’re getting reinforcements.”

  “Okay. That’s good.”

  “I gotta free up bunk space. I’m moving Cole. He’ll stay with you.”

  After that I could barely focus on work. The rest of the afternoon I was a mess.

  I try to read. An hour passes by. I should shower, but I don’t want to stand naked when he shows up, not even behind a closed and locked door. Making some tea, I go sit on the couch, then I jump up and sit on my bed instead. I don’t know what to do with myself.

  Despite having waited for it, the three sudden knocks on the door have me flying, my heart shooting to my throat. I rush to unlock and push it open. Outside stands Cole, looking as if he’s surrounded by a cloud of thunder.

  “Hi.” I move aside as he takes the steps in one stride, a bag slung over his shoulder, looking around. I gesture helplessly toward the little living room as I close the door. “Where do you want... I can... Do you want the bedroom? I can...”

  He towers over me. His presence seems to take up every inch of space. Cocking his head toward the living room, he shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll just stay in there,” he mutters and disappears behind the curtain.

  And, just like that, I suddenly have a trailer mate.

  I dart into my room and pull the door closed behind me, intending to stay until the morning, when I realize I still need to shower. Groaning, I grab my pajamas and get back out again. Not a sign of Cole. Not a sound.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” I half-shout. No answer. Well, fuck it then with trying to be civil.

  I don’t see him again. I shower in two minutes, then I escape back to my room. Later water clatters in the bathroom, then everything is silent. I usually drink tea in the evening. Glancing at the book, at the used teacup, I take a deep breath. I don’t have to meet him. Not necessarily, and I won’t have him fucking up the few routines I’ve got going. I pull on my slippers, grab the cup, and head out for the kitchenette. The water in the kettle has just started boiling when the curtain right next to me is pulled to the side. There stands Cole, dressed in nothing but a pair of worn, dark blue jeans, hanging low on his hips. I take a step back on instinct and force myself not to gape. I have never seen such a mouthwatering specimen of a man before. His chest, shoulders, and arms are covered in intricate tattoos, and he is seriously ripped. Like, even his muscles have muscles, for God’s sake.

  He gives me a once-over, his gaze landing on my feet, then he raises his eyebrows and looks up. I’m suddenly extremely self-conscious about the bunny slippers my mom gave me as a parting gift. She figured it was cold in Alaska. She was damn right about that.

  “You’re loud,” he finally says.

  “No, I’m not.” He’s just looking for something to complain about. I’ve been tiptoeing, for God’s sake.

  “I’m trying to sleep.”

  “You can’t possibly be sleeping like one minute after you finished showering. Besides,” I look him up and down, fighting down the sucking feeling in my stomach that makes me want to put my hands on those taut abs, “you’re not even undressed yet.”

  A small smile pulls on his lips. “I sleep naked. I gave you the courtesy of putting something on before I got out here.”

  And right then and there, my mind is thrown into the gutter. I fight to tear my eyes off that V-shape of his hips that disappears under the hem of the jeans, failing spectacularly. The jeans bulge delectably over his crotch and a rush of heat shoots through me at the images my mind suddenly conjures up of what hides beneath... Jeez. I haven’t even looked at a man since the assault. I haven’t been afraid, I know not everyone is like Alex, I’ve just been shut off. Now I’ve suddenly got hormones shooting out of my ears.

  “Why? Does it bother you? You’re just one of the guys, remember?”

  I groan and his smile turns into a smirk, a knowing fucking smirk. He definitely knows the effect he has on women, and he’s mercilessly using it against me.

  “Okay,” I grit out, my cheeks burning up. “Thanks, I guess. Want some tea?”

  He’s silent for a few moments, then he crosses his arms over his chest and leans his back against the opposite wall. “Sure, why not? What’ve you got?”

  I gesture to the cupboard, pulling the door open to take down a cup and a teabag for him. “Just regular Earl Grey.”

  “That’ll do fine.”

  I pour two cups. He drops the bags into each. It’s almost domestic. “Thanks, Cole.”

  He tilts back his head in acknowledgment. “Humor me. Can’t get out of this... arrangement anyway, so give me something to work with. What are your night routines?”

  I cup my hands around the hot china. “Just... shower, take a dump, tea, read, sleep.”

  A half-grin pulls at his mouth at my use of his own ‘advice.’ “Good to know.”

  When his features light up, he’s so beautiful that the sight makes my heart skip a beat.

  “I’ll stay out of your face,” he says, then he turns abruptly, grabs his cup and disappears, leaving me with a flurry of emotions.

  I’m not sure I want him to stay out of my face. I can’t focus on Native American lore for shit. The memory of his muscular chest, his ripped abs, his bulging arms, follows me into my dreams.

  The next morning, I wobble out of bed at four-thirty, dizzy from lack of sleep. And stumble right into a barely covered up Cole Hooper. He’s got a towel around his waist, but that’s it.

/>   Fuck.

  I stare at him, aghast, then I escape back to my room. I almost jump through the roof when he slams the door open.

  “Don’t fuck with my mornings.”

  “Why—hey, you moved into my place!”

  “You came to my site.”

  “Suck it up, buttercup. My mornings are holy.”

  His gaze darkens, and I have to force myself not to shrink back. There’s not a chance in hell he’ll lay his hands on me or he’ll find himself a few fingers short.

  “Guess I’ll have to get up earlier, then. I hope my showering won’t disturb your beauty sleep.”

  He disappears without closing the door, and I dart up, slamming it closed. I’ll hear it. The walls are thin. I can’t very well get up at a quarter to four, can I? I can’t help grinning. I sure can.

  Chapter Seven

  Cole

  I wake exactly fifteen minutes before my alarm is set to go off from the clatter of water against a plastic mat.

  She. Is. Showering.

  No one has challenged my mornings. Everyone knows to stay away until I’m done in the bathroom, and frankly, no one else wants to get up at this hour unless they’re on plowing duty. I’ve always had a few moments to myself before the guys get up. A year and a half of routines ruined in a day. One part of me wants to scare her to obedience; the saner half of me decides to see where she takes it. It’s obvious she’s doing it on purpose. I doubt she’ll keep it up.

  Except she does.

  Every morning at 3:45, the door clicks closed and the shower starts. By the end of the first week, I’m seriously considering tying her to her bed at night and not letting her up until I’m done with the bathroom. At exactly 4:01, seven days after I moved in, I corner her in the narrow corridor. She smells of flowers and clean skin. She smells enticingly of woman, and what am I? I’m only a fucking man after all. Her whole being pushes all my buttons.

  “You are to stay in bed until I’m done out here, little lady. I get up at four, shower, dress, have a cup of coffee. The hour between four and five is mine.”

  We are way too close. There’s just nowhere else to be. My cock reacts and there’s nothing I can do about it. She doesn’t see it, though. Her wide brown eyes are focused on mine, and from the way they darken it’s clear that she’s getting pissed.

  “Hell, no. I suggest you simply wait until I’m done—”

  She yelps when I put a hand on the wall next to her head and lean in. “You are nothing but trouble, Miss Keagan.”

  “I’ve moved up from hell spawn to Miss?”

  “You can move up from Miss to ‘I’m tied to my bed each night until Cole releases me.’”

  Casey’s mouth falls open and I realize what I just said. I can’t fucking believe it. Excuses, some way to backtrack, flick through my mind, but then I see the glint in her eyes, how she licks her lips, and I suddenly know she’d be all in. Casey Keagan might not know it yet, but beneath that cocky façade she hides a woman who needs to be controlled. Fuck me. That’s not an insight I needed.

  If she’d look, I’d have no way of hiding how fucking turned on she just made me. I spin around and dart into the bathroom. I don’t fucking care if she hears me. I have to take care of my raging hard-on.

  The rest of the early morning we keep bumping into each other as we collect our clothes and make sure we got everything for the day.

  “Sorry. Excuse me. I’m just gonna—”

  Half sentences and grunted out politenesses keep bouncing between us. The air in the trailer is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

  Her fine ass disappears into thick, oversized pants. Layer after layer hides her delectable handful of breasts. She’s the perfect size to push up against the wall and fuck like there’s no tomorrow.

  And that cannot happen.

  I have to move.

  Except I don’t trust a single other guy here to live with her and to treat her well.

  Do you trust yourself? says a little voice in my head.

  I did. I’m not sure I do anymore.

  * * *

  Casey

  Cole moving in is more of a disaster than I could have ever imagined. Apart from that first morning and then the mad meeting the other day, when he threatened to tie me up, he’s giving me the silent treatment, but his dark gazes build a frustration in me that I can’t seem to quell.

  The man that he is, the growly, fine as hell package of testosterone does me in and I spend every night with my hand between my legs before I sleep. I’m no stranger to getting myself off, but it’s been mainly faceless fantasies; now they’re mercilessly Cole. Cole tying me up, Cole’s heavy body sinking down on me, and oh, God, this will kill me. Three more months, then I’m out of here.

  A hose got loose and I got drenched in oil. Before dinner, I wiped off the worst, getting more than one raised eyebrow at the mess I was in. After dinner, though, I shower for a long time, letting the warmth defrost me. I’m chilled to the bones. I stand in the steamed-up little bathroom, rubbing clear a circle in the mirror, and take in my hollow face. I don’t look happy. I need to start eating properly. Work here exhausts me, but it’s not the main cause of the absolute energy drain, it’s the constant tension. I have lived and worked among men my whole life, since I was a toddler, but these brutes are another breed entirely. I run a hand through my still-wet hair, and take a look at the pile of discarded clothes. I’m going to have to wash those. There’s a washing machine in a common building, and there are almost never any available time slots. I’ll have to elbow my way there tonight.

  The bathroom door suddenly slams open and I almost jump through the roof in shock. In the doorway stands Cole in nothing but a towel around his waist. I take in his massive, tattooed chest, the hard planes of his stomach and the V-shape that disappears under the fabric. He looks as shocked as I feel, but then his gaze hardens to steel.

  “What the fuck are you still doing here?”

  “I’m... I’m showering.”

  “With the door open?”

  “It was closed. Can’t you knock, for fuck’s sake? The lock is shit and you know it. It works like half the time I try.”

  “It’s because you’re weak. I never have an issue,” he sneers as his gaze travels down along my body.

  “Aren’t you off playing card games with the boys, drinking beer and whatnot?” Pulling the towel tighter, I’m suddenly extremely aware that I’m standing dressed in next to nothing before a giant brute of a man who has never shown any kindness, who seems to hate me. Something in me shrinks at the realization. “Can you please leave?”

  “Get out of here. You finished showering like twenty fucking minutes ago. If you took all the hot water, I’ll fucking spank your ass.”

  I stare at him in horror. The air between us thickens. Cole seems to realize what he said and snaps his mouth shut as his eyes darken.

  Oh, fuck. Tie me up. Spank me. I don’t know if he knows what his words do to me. He’s failing badly if he means to be threatening.

  I clutch the towel tight and squeeze past him in the narrow doorway, electrified by his hot skin on mine, my heart bruising the inside of my ribs. I’ve made it into the corridor when a sharp tug makes me come to an abrupt stop. The towel is ripped out of my hands and I stand naked.

  “Hey!” I spin around and snatch it back out of his hand. Cole stands, a dumbfounded look on his face as his eyes roam my naked body. In his other hand is my pile of dirty clothes. I grab it and let it cover as much of my front as possible. “What the fuck are you doing?” I sneer.

  There’s a growing bulge beneath his towel and I inhale shakily from the sight.

  His face turns hard again. “You left your pile of stinking clothes. You’re sloppy, Keagan. Sloppy and dangerous. You have no business being here.”

  “That’s a crapload of bullshit and you know it. Tell me something I haven’t heard a million times before. It goes in here,” I indicate my right ear with my shoulder, “and out here.” I raise my
other shoulder.

  Cole takes one long step and presses me up against the wall. This time I can’t quell the whimper.

  “You’re too mouthy for your own good.”

  “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” I try to be tough, but in reality my lips are turning numb with fear. And more, something not fear. My pussy burns from his closeness.

  He rips the bunched-up clothes out of my arms and throws them to the side. “You keep strutting around, thinking you are all that. Do you know what they say about you? When they don’t talk about fucking taking turns?”

  I stare up at him; he’s so close that I feel his breath on my face. I’m not surprised there are still leery comments. I’ve heard some of them. Big fucking surprise. But what else do they say? What does he say?

  He’s also too close, and I can’t seem to push him away.

  “I don’t care,” I say, straightening, forcing myself not to cower before this giant of a man. “I know my worth.”

  Slamming a hand to the wall right next to my head, he leans in, so close that I think he’s aiming for my lips and I don’t know what to do with myself. He’s an ass. He’s an arrogant, insufferable piece of shit. He’s also so fucking hot that my body has its own will. Then he changes direction and puts his mouth to my ear.

  “You’re gonna get one of us killed one day. You’re no mechanic. Fuck knows what you’re doing here, but you haven’t got the skills. You dazzled the boss, faked your credentials. You’re more dangerous than the work out there, than the weather. The men trust the machines. One day you’ll blow us to pieces.”

  Tears well up in my eyes despite my attempts at forcing them down. After all I’ve done already? I’ve proven myself several times over. Why does he keep saying shit like this? He’s just trying to rattle me, break me.