Chapter 16
Hadley
I’ve been hard most of the last three hours, sitting mere feet from the only woman in the world who makes my body come alive.
Like a goddamn creep. Hell, maybe Knox is onto something.
After Maggie’s little spiel about who she would fuck, I couldn’t drag my mind from the damn gutter.
It’s insistent on living there rent free.
Then the woman went and rubbed the sweating bottle of water over her gorgeous face and elegant neck, and I was pretty sure I’d lose a load in my boxers when that trickle ran south between the most perfect fucking tits I’ve ever been in close quarters with.
Maybe I should start praying, going to church to atone for my many sins when it comes to the thoughts about Maggie that my mind runs through on any given day.
If I was religious, I’d owe some kind of penance, for sure.
But I’m not.
I’m also not immune to Maggie, who is currently talking over the event program for tomorrow with Levi, just outside the old bar’s lean-to roof.
“Hey, bud. What’s eating you?” Brady drops onto the barstool on my right.
I roll the glass and its amber contents between my fingers and take a sip.
It’s been a long night, and I’m almost ready to call it quits and go to bed. Maybe it would be better if I went first, make sure I’m asleep before—
“Earth to Jonesy.” Brady’s waving a hand in front of my face as Spencer sinks onto the stool on my left.
“What’s with our boy?” Spencer waves down the lone bartender and orders a Jack.
“Your guess is as good as mine, brother.” Brady repeats the bar wave, ordering his drink.
“Nothing’s with me, you idiots,” I utter.
“Ah, I see now.” Spencer nudges my shoulder with his, eyebrows waggling. “Woman trouble.”
I give him my best Gemma side-eye. Am I that damn transparent?
“Well, you know my stance on women.” Brady hones his gaze onto mine. “Stay the hell away, less trouble.”
Of course he would say that, after his ran off with some banker and broke his heart. “Cynical much, bud?”
Spencer tips his glass toward me. “Nah, just fuck her and get her out of your system, Hads.”
My molars grind. “Hard no, Spence.”
“So you don’t like her? I’m confused. What’s the problem?” Brady’s brows are knitted over blue eyes laced with concern.
“Jones is trading favors with the photographer,” a rough voice drawls. “That’s the fucking problem.”
The three of us turn on our stools instantly. Heat prickles down my spine.
Fucking Knox.
“Shut it, Knox. Or I’ll do it for you,” I growl.
He chuckles, but the sound carries no humor. “Can’t wait to see you try, lover boy.”
“What the hell is he talking about?” Spencer whines.
Knox huffs as a smirk grows over his face. A beat passes like time frozen as Maggie walks in under the old bar’s iron roof and to the bar.
Knox lifts his drink in her direction. “That.”
I’m off my stool the second the syllable leaves his stupid fucking mouth. It topples over as my fist meets his face and he flies backward, hitting the ground. I’m on top of him, swinging hit after hit into his smug face as a rough grip closes around my right arm.
Then another around my left.
I’m hauled from the bastard a heartbeat later, finding my feet as I stand shaking from head to toe.
That.
One derogatory word Maggie’s way, and I transform into some kind of crazed Neanderthal.
I’ve lost it. Over a woman who is purely my friend and kinda coworker. Maybe it’s the long day, or the way we sat for hours trading missed glances all the way here. Somewhere deep down, this attraction I’m fighting has flipped its lid.
Knox rolls over, clambering to his feet, his hand pressed over a busted lip. He’s lucky that’s all I gave him. Asshole.
He takes a step forward. “Of all the losers on all the circuits, she traded down for you. Girl must not know what she’s missing.”
He glances down the bar to my right then turns on his heel and leaves.
Spencer and Brady release their grip as I track the direction of his gaze. Maggie stands at the bar, eyes widened. Her arms crossed over her chest.
In shorts, a fresh T-shirt, and boots, her curls loose around her shoulders, she looks . . . Like she’s stalking toward me.
“You okay?” Her tone is anything but sympathetic.
“Fine,” I grind out.
“I’m going to bed. You can bunk with Brady.”
I hang my head. Of all the stupid fucking things I’ve done. After the last interaction with Knox . . . I should have known better. I should have ignored his shit talk and let the issue die. Now I’ve made everything ten times worse.
A hand slaps my back. Spence closes in. “Well, guess we know who you’re talking about now.”
I give him the side-eye straight from the depths of hell, and Brady chuckles. “And just like that, your problem fixed itself. Doubt you’re rolling in the hay with that gorgeous woman anymore.”
“I’m not—”
“Yeah, yeah. We know, there’s nothing between you two.” Spencer rolls his eyes at me now. I grumble something about finding my gear and calling it a night, and they both exchange a glance before heading outside with me. We wander through the vehicles until we reach Spence’s truck.
I glance over at Betsy. “I should grab my stuff before Maggie goes to sleep.”
Brady leans on his truck. “Yeah, maybe one of us should retrieve your belongings.”
Did I really burn that bridge down to ashes?
“No, it’s fine. I made the mess. I’ll clean it up.”
I start for her van when Spence calls out, “I’m no expert on women, but maybe she wants some space, bud?”
“You could invite her to the lake tomorrow, you know, like an apology?” Brady adds.
I pretend not to hear him, desperate to see if Maggie is okay. As I reach the van, I find the side door is open and she is sitting on her bunk in her pajamas. Her laptop sits on top of the sheet on her legs. Her earbuds are in as she taps away on the keyboard.
I rap my knuckles on the side of the van.
She doesn’t look from her screen. I’m not sure if that’s because she’s actively ignoring me or she can’t hear me.
“Maggie?” I knock again.
Her typing stops.
“I wanted to apologize and maybe grab my stuff?”
Her eyes drift shut. She mumbles something I can’t make out.
“I didn’t catch that, Ma—”
She turns, her gaze burning into mine. “You shouldn’t have hit him.” Her tone is cold and laced with disappointment tangled with frustration.
“He’s an asshole, Maggie. The shit he’s sayi—”
She holds up a hand. “And now everyone’s going to believe him.”
She’s right.
She sighs again, but this time it’s drawn out and defeated. Rising from the bed, she drops the laptop onto the sheet and pads to the small doorway I’m currently filling.
Lifting her eyes to meet mine, her face softens. “Thank you for defending my honor.”
Every riled-up inch of me softens as I search her face. Hands desperate to hold her now, like they haven’t been before. Arms aching to envelop her close, so no motherfucker like Knox can mouth off about her ever again.
“But it was unnecessary. My work speaks for itself. At the last event, all those photos were Levi’s and my idea. The scouts were sniffing around, and we really wanted you to make the draft. I’m sorry, Hadley.”
My mouth hangs open.
She—
I shake my head, clearing my throat. “Levi and you rigged the shoot?”
She folds her arms, and it’s only then I notice the hard peaks straining against the cotton T-shirt before she presses her forearms against the fabric, covering them up.
“We’re both to blame for this situation, one way or another,” she says softly. “So I’m sorry, too. Maybe you should ride with Brady from now on, just in case.”
No. No fucking way.
“Like you said, your work speaks for itself. If you shoot everybody this weekend, this—whatever it is—will die down. Some other scandal will entertain the meek minds.”
A half smile ghosts over her luscious lips. “I’m sure it will.” She turns back and grabs up my bedroll. “Good night, Hadley.”
I take the bulky bedding from her grip. “Night, Maggie.”
She runs a hand through her hair as she goes to close the van door.
“Oh, we’re going to the lake tomorrow, if you want to come with.”
She hovers for a beat before replying. “I’d love to.”
The dry summer grass crunches under my boots as I make my way back to Brady and Spencer. I dump the bedroll next to Brady’s truck.
Spencer gives me a look.
“What?” I ask.
“Was over at the amenities. Knox and his buddies were shit-talking Maggie.”
Brady’s expression is suspiciously like the one a parent gives a child who’s about to do something stupid. “Don’t, Hads.”
“What were they saying, exactly?” I snap at Spence. I know it’s not his fault, but this shit’s got me in a chokehold.
“Along the lines of an easy piece of ass. One guy I didn’t recognize was mouthing off about visiting her van later tonight.”
What the hell is it with these guys? Is there not a decent bone in their godforsaken bodies?
With that, I haul my bedding up and trudge back to the van. Rolling it out, I lie on top. Back to my century post, back to staring into the starry sky while I keep watch. Motherfuckers will do good to stay the hell away, if they know what’s—
“Hadley?” The van door opens, and Maggie drops to the step.
“Don’t ask me to leave. I can’t.”
“That’s not what I was going to say . . .”
She lifts her head, gazing at the same stars.
I sit up and pull my knees up, resting my forearms on them as I take stock of her elegant angles.
Forest green eyes that scan the night sky.
Her beautiful dark waves around her shoulders, and long legs that end in tiny fucking shorts.
Nails painted a dusty pink, matching her toenails, dig into her skin now awash with goosebumps despite the balmy summer air.
“You’re cold. Go inside.”
Her gaze falls to me. “Not yet.”
“I really am sorry, Ma—”
Her finger presses over my lips.
Her focus drops to where it stays, motionless, as my chest stills.
Fragrant florals and vanilla shroud me as she shuffles to the edge of the van’s side step. “Stop apologizing. If you’re going to talk to me in this perfect moment, say something else.”
I swallow, and she tracks the movement as my Adam’s apple bobs. Her eyes study my face as her tongue darts out and wets her lips. Fuck me, a man’s never been so desperate for something in the history of mankind. The swell of my cock has my jeans bulging already.
Her finger slips away from my lips, but her gaze remains planted on there.
“What do you want to hear?” I ask, the words threadbare.
She huffs.
A stick snaps to our left, and the moment is extinguished instantly.
Christ almighty. I have whiplash from tonight alone. Let alone the memories of our highlights today . . .
The word fuck leaving those pretty damn lips.
The cool water sliding over her skin and between her breasts. I’ve never wanted to be a droplet of water more in all my life.
A needy burn flares in my core. Footsteps close in before Spence appears, towel over his shoulder, hair damp as he gives us a shit-eating grin and a wave, making a sharp turn and hiking for Brady’s truck.
Nosy little shit. He could have walked back without the detour.
“Get some sleep, tomorrow will be better,” I rumble.
She leans in a little like she’s about to . . . then jerks backward before, “Night.” A forced smile is plastered back on her face.
Happy and somewhat confused, I lay back down, hand under my head, cock stretching my jeans painfully.
I focus on the stars.
I focus on the sounds of Maggie climbing back into her bunk.
Slamming my eyes shut, I focus on the swell of her chest, those hard peaks straining the fabric of her T-shirt that were literally in my face moments ago. My cock twitches and I can’t stop the sensation as I come like a damn teenager in my boxers. I tamp back a groan.
I’m totally fucked.