Chapter 13 Paige
PAIGE
Hudson’s speaking to me, but I barely hear him. My stomach churns as I watch Sergeant Gray—no, Ryan is what Hudson called him—wheel himself away.
When our eyes locked, I was transported back to the hotel room. Crisp sheets and our sweaty bodies coiled together, the scent of his sweat, the soft sounds of our moans. His muscular arms pinning me to the bed as his stubble scratched over my skin.
How many times have I thought about that weekend? First with pleasure, then with bitterness and regret, and finally with profound wonder and gratefulness.
How many times have I wished we’d exchanged numbers and names. Over the years, I’ve run over a dozen speeches in my mind that I’d say if I ever ran into Sergeant Gray, from ranting at him to falling into his arms. Yet, when the moment presented itself, my mouth went dry, and I was speechless.
The last thing I expected was to see him in a wheelchair, his eyes vacant and lacking the vibrancy that attracted me to him in that bar a lifetime ago. The man I knew is buried somewhere under that pain, and for a heartbeat, I wanted to find him again.
“Paige?” Hudson looks at me with his eyebrows raised, and I have no idea what he’s just said. Noah is running around my legs being chased by Avery. My best friend and my brother are oblivious to the bomb that’s just exploded inside me.
I drag my gaze away from the retreating figure and back to Hudson. “Huh?”
“I said, how do you know Ryan?”
He pounds into me as my fingers grip the headboard and my moans turn to cries of pleasure.
“Umm, can’t remember. He looked familiar. The kind of face you don’t forget.”
I crouch down to Noah’s level, hoping Hudson doesn’t notice the heat spreading up my neck.
“You ready for your morning tea, buddy?”
“I want banana,” Noah says.
“I’d like a banana please,” I correct him, and he pouts at me.
“I’ll sort him out with a banana,” Avery offers. “I don’t have another client till this afternoon. You do what you need to do, and I’ll mind him for a while.”
Since Avery came back from college, she’s been like an auntie to Noah. Even in her grief over losing her brother Jake, my best friend always has time for us.
Noah’s already taken her hand, and I straighten up and watch them as they head back to the shed where Noah’s bag of snacks is.
Reluctantly, I turn back to Hudson, but he’s squinting down the path where Ryan made his hasty exit.
“He’s not in a good way.” He sighs.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Hudson hasn’t picked up on my discomfort. He doesn’t know about Ryan and me. The relief twists into anxiety.
“What happened to him?” I can’t help asking, even if it does give me away.
“He got caught in an explosion. They amputated his leg to save it.”
I wince and close my eyes.
He kneels behind me and grabs my hips, pulling them toward him.
“That must be hard.”
Hudson runs a hand down his face. “Yeah. Ryan was always so strong. He propped me up through BUD/s training. I’m not sure I would’ve made it without him encouraging me.” He sighs and looks at the ground. “Now, it’s like we’ve switched roles, but I don’t know how to help him.”
I lean against his chest as his hand traces rhythmic circles on my back.
It seems Ryan’s propped the both of us up. I close my eyes on the memory, but Hudson’s too caught up in his own memories of Ryan to notice.
“I hate seeing him like this. He refused to see his dad in Louisville. His dad called and asked me for help. Thought I might be able to get through to him. I begged Joel to open a room early for Ryan here.”
A weight descends on my chest. I can’t compare the vibrant man, who had such an impact on my life with the withdrawn man in the wheelchair.
“Is it working?”
Hudson sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know.” His shoulders sag, and there’s a tiredness I don’t often see in my energetic brother.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
The words come out before I can think straight. The last thing I want to do is put myself in the way of Ryan. But I’ll do anything to see him laugh again.
Hudson’s expression brightens. “I thought it would be a good idea to get him working. Let him know he’s still useful. Joel’s got a bunch of minor repairs that need doing around the place. Since you’re here most mornings, do you think you can oversee the repairs?”
My hand freezes on his shoulder. “Like manage him?”
“I would do it, but a security job’s come in that Marcus needs a hand with.”
I swallow hard as my mind races over all the reasons this is a bad idea. Then I think of Ryan retreating in his wheelchair. I’m curious about the man I only knew for one weekend, and if I’m honest with myself, there’s a spark of excitement at the opportunity to see him again.
“Sure.”
He slaps me on the back, and I jolt forward. “Thanks, sis. You’re a superstar. I’ll ask Joel to email you the list of jobs. All you need to do is check that Ryan turns up and is getting shit done. I’m sure he’ll appreciate someone other than me giving him orders.”
I smile thinly as he fills me in on the details, all the while wondering what the hell I’ve just done.
Later that afternoon I’m at the Huntingtons’, enjoying the scent of new roses and fresh grass in the air as I work. Noah plays on the lawn next to me while I wield the gardening shears on their yew hedges.
They’ve accepted my designs for the new lower garden, and work on that starts next week. For the time being, I’m keeping the hedges but making them shorter so they can have a view of the mountains from the top of the garden.
I move my stepladder to the next segment and climb up. Noah chatters happily to himself, and I whisper a silent thank you to the goddess of single moms that has him in a good mood today.
As soon as my first invoice from the Huntingtons comes in, I’ll book him into a nursery three afternoons a week. It’s easy to bring him to the center in the morning because it’s like a second home, and Joel has never minded the little guy being with me while I work.
But as he’s gotten older and more mobile, it’s hard to keep an eye on him. I can’t keep bringing him on jobs with me.
I hear footsteps on the path behind me and turn, expecting to see Annette Huntington, the lady of the house. Instead, a man saunters through with his hands in the pockets of his white chinos. He’s a few years younger than me, with squinty eyes and floppy blond hair.
“You’re the new gardener?”
His gaze sweeps over my body and lingers too long on my breasts. Anyone else would try to hide the fact they’re checking me out, but not Chad, the entitled son of the Huntingtons. He smiles as if he’s a kid at a candy shop.
I keep my voice calm and turn back to the hedge with my gardening shears.
Snip.
“I’m the landscaper.”
Snip.
He snort-laughs as if I’ve said something funny. Forcing myself to ignore him, I lean over the hedge to reach the twigs sticking up on the far side.
Snip.
A hand lands on my ass with a dull slap. I jerk away, causing the shears to go wide and the stepladder to wobble.
“What the fuck?”
Chad chuckles and steps back as I leap off the stepladder. My cheeks are inflamed, and rage courses through me.
“You slapped my ass.” I’m so shocked and embarrassed that I don’t know what else to say.
Noah must pick up on my tone, because he starts whining. Chad glances at Noah and then back at me before taking a step forward.
“My parents are out.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips like a snake’s. “You’re single, I’m single, what do you say? Are you up for it? No strings attached?”
He’s speaking as if we’re at a bar and this is a normal proposal. His hand reaches for me, and I jump backwards.
“No.” I shake my head, and he frowns in confusion.
“Come on.” He glances at Noah, who thankfully has moved to stand behind me. “You must put out, so why not with me? I won’t tell anyone.”
He gives me what I think is supposed to be his sexy smile, but it makes him look like a deranged hyena.
I’ve faced this kind of thing before from men who assume, because I’m single and have a child, that I must be looking for sex. But it’s so shocking to be approached when I’m working that it takes a moment for my shock to turn into rage.
He reaches for me, and this time instead of jumping back, I lean into his touch. While he strokes my arm, I sweep the gardening shears upwards and open them as I bring them between his legs.
His eyes widen as I close the shears slightly, just enough to squeeze his goods in the sharp blade.
“You touch me again, and I’ll prune something you’ll miss.”
His eyes bug out of his head, and his face turns red.
“I was just having fun. No need to be so touchy.”
“No.” As I apply a little more pressure, a bead of sweat trickles down his brow. “There’s no need for you to be so touchy.”
My pulse thunders in my ears, and as he trembles under me, I love that the power has shifted. It’s just a shame it took gardening shears on his balls for him to see me as a human and not an easy lay.
“I don’t know what century you’re living in, but the idea that I’m a single mom and therefore ‘put out’ disappeared a long time ago. Same as your haircut.”
“Momma?”
Noah’s distressed voice brings me back to reality. I’d love nothing better than to cut off this asshole’s balls, but I have a son to consider.
I release the gardening shears, and Chad jumps away from me, rubbing his crotch.
“You’ve put grass stains on my new pants.” He seems as outraged at the ruin of his designer pants as he does by the almost loss of his balls. “I’ll have you fired.”
Fear grips me, but I don’t let him see it. If I lose this job, my business will be gone. The Huntingtons have sway in the town. It would ruin me.
“Try it,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “The contract is tight, and I’ve got a witness.”
He glances at Noah and smirks. “A toddler.”
“No.” I pull my phone out of my pocket. “I was dictating notes when you arrived. I’ve recorded the entire thing.”
“You’re lying.” But he seems unsure.
“Am I?” I tap at my phone, pressing buttons quickly and keeping my face down so he doesn’t see that he’s right. I wasn’t recording anything, but he doesn’t know that.
He lunges for the phone, but I hold it out of his grasp.
“I just emailed the file to myself, so even if you physically attack me to destroy this, there’s still a copy.”
His face crumples into a scowl.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I shake with fury, though it masks deeper emotions—shame that he touched me, guilt that I didn’t help the situation by wearing short shorts today and bringing my child to work. That maybe I’m to blame for working here on my own with my body on display.
There are too many emotions brimming inside of me, and I want to scream at him. I want to walk off the job and tell the whole world what an asshole Chad Huntington is.
“Momma!” Noah’s cry is more urgent, and I glance down at my son. With his bottom lip wobbling, he reaches for me. I scoop him into my arms, and he buries his head in my shoulder.
I can’t walk off the job. I have a son to provide for. I can’t risk my business because some entitled asshole got handsy. It’s not the first time I’ve been felt up, and it won’t be the last. I refuse to let it derail my business.
I take a deep breath and meet his gaze. “I don’t want trouble. I just want to work.”
He glares at me for a long moment, then nods. Without another word, he turns and strides up the lawn.
I let out a long, slow breath.
“Why are some men assholes?” I shake the adrenaline off and rub my face in Noah’s dark curls, breathing in the scent of cut grass and baby shampoo.
I think of Ryan, a decent man, and my heart feels heavy.
“You’re going to grow up to be a decent human,” I mutter to Noah. “You never touch anyone unless they say it’s okay.”
He looks at me with a serious expression, as if trying to decipher my words. It’s never too early to teach kids about consent.
“We have cookie?”
I kiss his forehead. “Yes, buddy, a cookie break sounds good.”