Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Several days had passed since dinner at Haven, and Gage spent them following Sloane’s impressive schedule.
They talked over the phone multiple times a day as clients called to book last minute or inquire about hurricane prep, and he’d even found himself chatting with her about normal topics, like how her day was going at the building.
Things ran much more smoothly now that the computer system had been fixed, but… he still called.
The hurricane shifted a bit to the north, which was a good sign, but it still lurked in the Atlantic like a monster taking its time to decide which unsuspecting victim to eat first.
By the time Gage called it a day and made it home, Sloane was usually there at the house, but things were typically quiet. He heard no thuds or sounds like she worked overtime on organizing, but he did note new additions to the garage whenever he pulled in to park for the night.
He’d given Sloane permission to store items there because the door was just at the base of the stairs, but he still kept his private quarters locked with the mental reminder that she was a stranger he’d known a short time.
She might be an employee—so far, a good one—but they had no paperwork on her, no way of tracking her down if she decided to clean him out and disappear.
And, yeah, he did have a security camera outside the second-floor entry pointing toward the front door, so if she tried anything, he’d know.
Sloane seemed nice enough and remarkably capable, but he wouldn’t allow himself to forget that people weren’t always what they seemed.
No matter how good of a job she was doing or how much Cole raved about her work and how quickly she picked up the various tasks assigned, Sloane wore her secrets like the freckles on her beautiful face, dodging any questions remotely close to revealing anything real about her past.
And until she was willing to open up and share whatever it was she hid from them, he was determined to keep some distance.
That was easier said than done, though.
Especially when her looks, personality and work ethic drew him like a siren song.
She put every ounce of energy into whatever task she performed and didn’t want to stop until it was completed.
That was a trait he liked. That she didn’t do things halfway.
The control freak in him respected that, and as weird as it might sound, he found it attractive on multiple levels.
Gage rolled out of bed and took a quick shower before heading for coffee. He’d just poured himself a mug when he heard a muffled thud sound from downstairs.
Another soft thud sounded, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. He ran on fumes these days and while he’d meant to be up and at it, he’d slept like the dead. The clock read 9:30 a.m., which was basically noon for the likes of him.
He eyed the pot and decided to go see what Sloane was up to.
Carrying a second large mug filled with plenty of cream and sugar, he made his way downstairs and found her door open.
She sat on the floor, singing off key to one of his favorite country songs, earbuds in her ears as she sorted through nails, screws and small items needed for various jobs.
She’d gathered them up from wherever he’d tossed them and then apparently sorted them by size and type.
He knocked and called her name, but she didn’t hear him, seemingly lost doing her thing and making nice, neat stacks. A chuckle left him when he spotted the label maker lying by her hip. He remembered buying one years ago but hadn’t seen it for a long while.
He called her name again but then entered the space and walked closer when she still didn’t hear him. He’d just opened his mouth to say her name again when she apparently sensed him and her reflexes kicked in. Gasping, she reared back and threw the box she held at him.
“Crap! Gage.”
She yanked out her earbuds as she sucked in a breath, glaring at him before apparently realizing her response was an overreaction.
Her face heated up with a bright pink flush.
“I’m sorry. You— You startled me, and I just… Didn’t your mother teach you how to knock?”
The box she’d thrown had glanced off his knee and fallen to the floor, the cardboard lid opening to scatter finishing nails everywhere.
He stayed motionless as seconds ticked by and only then lifted the mug he’d brought for her.
“I did. And I said your name twice, too, but you didn’t hear me.
I’m thinking you don’t need this now considering your throwing arm. I might bruise,” he teased.
She scrubbed a hand over her face and shoved her curly hair back, grimacing.
“I’m sorry. And I’ll clean it up, of course.”
Gage squatted down, making a show out of holding out the mug as a peace offering. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”
She accepted the gift and grimaced again before taking a fortifying sip.
“You’ve been busy.” One glance revealed just how much she’d accomplished in her hours after working at the rentals building that week and this morning.
The containers on one wall of the room were now labeled with color coordinated sticky notes, and small boxes like the one she’d thrown at him were individually labeled with small white strips. “Is that a spreadsheet?”
A huff of incredulous laughter left him at the sight of her computer sitting off to the side.
“Yeah, why? I like spreadsheets. What’s wrong with spreadsheets? Don’t you want to know what you have, how much you have, and where it’s located?”
He’d love to be that organized, but with his crazy schedule, that had never been possible. At least not without working twenty-four hours a day. “This is fantastic, Merida.”
He straightened and turned, taking in her handiwork before moving closer to get a better look of the organized row along the wall.
She’d gathered and labeled the AC filters and random home maintenance items, like batteries, light bulbs, door locks and keys, into bins.
And that was just the start. There was a container for paint brushes and rollers and pans and others for Christmas lights sorted by color and size.
“Once I get everything labeled and counted, I can cross reference the items with your regular clients so that a quick search gives you everything you’ve used at their property in the past. It doesn’t mean you won’t have to think on your feet or need other things to do a job, but at least you’ll be able to see filters and things you’ve needed at that residence before you go, which might help. ”
A grin tugged at his lips, and he turned to face her. “This is great.” Part of him wondered if it would remain organized once it was done, but he’d enjoy it for as long as it lasted.
“Good. Glad you like it.”
Their gazes locked and held, and he found himself lost in the depths of her green eyes. Seconds passed, but he didn’t look away. Couldn’t. But the moment didn’t feel awkward as tension grew between them.
Finally, she blinked and glanced down as she took a breath, swiftly grabbing the label maker off the floor. He wondered if she considered it a weapon, like the box she’d thrown at him.
“I should… I should get back to it. Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll start making room in the garage for this stuff,” he said, waving a hand at the containers she’d marked. “That way we can free up more room in here.”
“No need,” she said with a shake of her head. “I mean, you can if you want, of course. It would make for a good income stream if you rented it out. But don’t do it because of me. Won’t be here long, remember?”
Yeah, he remembered. Just until after the hurricane hit—or didn’t.
But for the first time since he’d found himself with a houseguest, he realized he really didn’t mind the company.
The weekend passed in a blur of organizing and salacious thoughts about her boss.
Because that look? That moment when Gage had held her gaze for so long, she’d found herself barely breathing? Yeah, that was…off-putting but not in a bad way. It wasn’t the only time it had happened, either.
They’d spent the weekend working side by side. Gage had taken a few breaks to respond to phone calls and prescheduled jobs, but for the most part, they spent the time moving stuff to the garage once she’d sorted and logged it.
He’d teased her by calling her Merida repeatedly.
And saved her from being bonked on the head when the box she tried to stack slid in the wrong direction.
The move had left them standing back to front, Gage’s arms and body wrapped around hers for precious seconds that sent her pulse galloping and goose bumps sliding along her skin.
Gage had insisted on feeding her both days. They’d ordered Thai and burgers and pizza from a different location than the one that first day, and they’d gone to a popular restaurant Sunday evening when Gage declared they needed a break out of the house.
She hadn’t argued. Not when her arms and back ached from all the lifting and moving and squatting, and she had to work the next day with Cole.
Come Monday, the weather news wasn’t looking good.
When she’d arrived at the rentals building, Cole had the Weather Channel playing on the television mounted near the checkout, and a big red swirl with lots of strings marked potential paths.
The problem was nearly all of them ran through, or way too close to, Carolina Cove.
Cole turned when she entered, a scowl on his handsome face. “It can still change course, but we can’t put off prep any longer.”
She glanced at the television, only then seeing the recommendation to prepare. “Have they issued orders to evacuate?”
“Not yet. It’s still voluntary for the coastline, but regardless, the island will shut the bridge down when the winds reach a certain speed. We’ve got to get things buttoned up and be either on or off the island and hunkered down when that happens.”
She nodded, even though a big part of her wanted to run screaming to her car and drive until—what? Where would she go? She didn’t know hurricanes. She was a Chicago girl. She knew blizzards and ice storms but not hurricanes. “What do I do?”
“Pull up that list of yours with the home rentals on the island at the top, businesses next. We’ll do those first and then work our way through the properties off the island.”
“What about Blackwell Farm? The animals?” She’d asked Cole about the farm when she’d gotten the schedule sorted out and realized the men did regular maintenance days at their various properties. They were all very hands on, despite the fact they could undoubtedly afford to hire to get things done.
“We’ll board it up, too, but they’ll be okay. That area has never flooded. There’s always a first time, but if Finn leaves, he’ll haul the animals with him.”
Given the number of businesses the brothers owned, getting everything prepped seemed like an insurmountable task, list or no list. And they had two days to do it in? “So it’s hitting Wednesday…somewhere?”
Cole nodded. “They’ll narrow down the spot as the day goes on. You staying in town or heading out? If you plan to leave, I’d go now. Otherwise you’ll be sitting in traffic.”
Air gushed from her lungs in a noisy exhale. In two days, she could put some real distance between herself and the hurricane, but it felt wrong to leave. And regardless of where she went, she’d be sleeping in her car because a few days’ pay wasn’t going to go far.
Remembering Elias’s words from the dinner at Haven about hunkering down as safe as could be where he was, she lifted her chin. “I’m staying.”
“Let’s get to it then. Call Gage. I’d say he’s already on his way here but—”
As though summoned, the door swung open with a sharp yank, and Gage stalked inside. He wore a sheen of sweat and a harried expression that could only be considered stressed.
“I’ve got the first of the boards on the trailer. Once they’re off, we can start loading the carts and scooters and take them back to get more boards.”
“So do I stay here? Watch the store?” She motioned toward the counter.
“I say we lock up and let her help where she can,” Cole said. “If anyone has a problem with it, they can go somewhere else.”
Gage nodded. “Agreed. Sloane, will you make us a new message for the machine? Closed until further notice due to impending hurricane.”
She moved toward the phone only to have Cole stop her.
“You sure you want to stay? By the time we get through the storm and the cleanup done, your two weeks will be up. No one would blame you for evacuating and leaving town early because of this.”
Sloane glanced from Cole to Gage and saw that he’d paused in the act of exiting, waiting for her response. “I want to help,” she said, her pulse picking up speed because it was true.
She liked this little beach town. These people.
If she could help, she wanted to. “I said I’d do the job, and I will.
I’ll stay so long as…so long as you promise not to kick me out during the hurricane or leave me behind if you evacuate.
” Maybe they were needy-sounding requests, but a little reassurance would go a long way because other than working for these two, she didn’t truly know them.
They could be the all-for-them-and-no-one-else types.
Not that they seemed that way, but—people didn’t reveal themselves right away.
Gage held her gaze, a slight smile quirking his lips into a handsome tilt before he winked and nodded at her.
“I think I can manage that.”
And then her pulse went wild for a whole other reason.