Chapter Six – Hayden #3
“Yeah, you know, it’s this new-fangled thing kids are doing these days, I thought I’d try it. Relive some of the glory days.”
She does her best not to laugh, but a soft chuckle comes out regardless. “You’re so weird.”
I’ll take weird. I’ll take whatever she wants to call me. “While I was hanging out, it occurred to me that if you’re walking to work, you have to walk home from work, too. I thought, maybe, I could give you a ride home.”
“I don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity. Think of it as me apologizing for earlier, making it up to you.”
Kayla isn’t having it. “I don’t need you to make anything up to me.
Just drop it.” Again, she makes it perfectly clear she is not used to people helping her, at least not people with no ulterior motives—and that makes me wonder just what kind of people she’s surrounded herself with up to this point.
What kind of life is it if you go through the motions never trusting anyone but yourself? A sad, lonely life, one I wouldn’t wish on anybody. We aren’t meant to be solitary creatures.
“Please, let me drive you home,” I beg her. “If you don’t let me do it for you, let me do it for me. It’ll make me feel better, making sure you get home safe. Plus, I’m sure it’ll save you a ton of time.” This girl obviously needs more rest. Doing all this walking can’t be too good for her.
She looks away, and for a moment I worry she’s going to keep arguing with me.
Honestly, there’s nothing I can do to force her to get into my truck.
I can’t picture what internal battle she’s waging; she probably doesn’t trust me.
She might think I could hurt her—but I’d never.
I’d never hurt a hair on this girl’s head.
When Kayla looks back at me, I can see the resignation in those emerald eyes, almost like she doesn’t have the strength to argue with me. As if giving up is easier. “Fine,” she whispers, and the way she says the word breaks my heart.
I have the feeling she’s had a sad life. I don’t know why I feel that way, but it’s just something I feel deep in my bones, and I hate that for her.
She walks around the front of my truck and gets in beside me, never looking at me as she does. I turn the truck on and wait a moment before I ask, “Where are we going?” My truck has a built-in GPS, so when she gives me the address, I can type it in directly onto the big screen.
I don’t immediately recognize the address, but when the GPS loads, I can see it’s somewhere in the city.
Pulling onto the road, I don’t say a word. I figure anything I might say right now would only upset her further. I’ll let her have a quiet ride. Don’t want to be too pushy. As it is, I’m already stepping over the line when it comes to her and the concern I have deep inside.
It’s a twenty-five-minute drive from the Bentley estate, so I can’t imagine how long it takes her to walk. Does she get enough sleep at night? Walking to and from… hours have to be tacked on to her day. I doubt she has time for herself.
For the longest time, I don’t say anything. I do keep glancing over at her, and each time I do, I see she’s fiddling with her hands and staring out of the window, looking anywhere but me.
Do I make her that uncomfortable? Is it really so awful to accept a ride from me?
We’re about ten minutes from her place when I finally break the silence of the truck: “How is it working for Bradford Bentley?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
I smile at her comeback. “Yeah, but I’m outside all day.
You’re the one stuck inside with him. He’s…
you know what he did, don’t you?” When I look at her, I see her nod, even though she still gazes steadily out of the window.
“When I heard what he did, I’ll be the first to admit I assumed he’d be different.
He’s not at all what I thought he’d be.”
That is what gets her to turn her head to look at me. “What did you think he’d be?”
With a shrug, I say, “Oh, you know. Your typical heir to a founding family. Spoiled. Conceited. Arrogant. Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t rub me as the nicest person around, but I don’t get the vibe I thought I would off him. Maybe it’s just me, though. Maybe he’s different around you.”
Kayla lets out a slow breath. “No, he’s not different with me. He’s… I don’t know how to describe him. It’s like he doesn’t really care about anything.”
“Weird, considering he went so far as to have two people kidnapped so he could buy out another company.”
She agrees, “Yeah, it is weird. I think he’s always been under a lot of pressure from his father. I—” Her gaze falls to her lap. “—I get that. Always feeling like everything you do is never good enough, trying your hardest and feeling like you fail every single time. It’s exhausting.”
I immediately hear the dejection in her tone, and I know she’s being truthful. I try not to sound too interested when I ask, “You under a lot of pressure from your dad, too?”
“No,” she quickly says. “No, but I get where his desperation comes from. I’m just saying, when you constantly feel like you’re never good enough, you can resort to things you might not have otherwise.”
“Like kidnapping.”
“Yeah, like kidnapping.”
“It really doesn’t scare you, working for a man like that?”
Kayla shakes her head. “No. But maybe I’m just numb to that sort of thing.”
I want to ask her why. I hear the emotion in her tone and it kills me inside, but if I press too hard, she’s liable to shut down and end this conversation. I don’t want that. In fact, it’s the last thing I want.
I say, “Well, if he ever does or says anything a boss shouldn’t to his employee—anything inappropriate—or if you feel like you’re not safe in that house… you come get me, okay? I know we’re strangers, but just because we’re strangers doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
She lets out a soft chuckle. “He’s an über alpha.
How could you possibly overpower an über alpha, if anything like that did happen?
” A very good question, a question so good I can’t give her the truthful answer.
“You are pretty big for a beta, I’ll give you that, but even so, I don’t know if you could take Bradford down if it came to it. ”
“You’d be surprised. I’m pretty scrappy.”
My description of scrappy makes her laugh. Not just a short chuckle, but an actual laugh, and it’s such a beautiful sound. I wouldn’t mind hearing more of it, but I have to be careful not to push her too hard.
“Scrappy,” she echoes with a faint smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call themselves scrappy before, especially not someone who looks like you. Don’t you have to be small to be considered scrappy?”
“I think you just have to be considered the underdog in the equation, but then again, I guess I don’t really know.”
I make a left turn, and I can honestly say I am not a fan of the way the streets have changed.
We might be in the city, but based on where we’re going, it doesn’t look like it’s a good part of the city.
No, if anything, it’s run-down, dilapidated, with homeless people taking up benches and standing on the corners with their signs.
Call me psychic, but I don’t think I’m going to like seeing where she lives. No wonder she’s so desperate to keep the job. Even though Bradford will never win any Boss of the Year Awards, the paycheck must be good. Maybe it’ll help her move out of here and find someplace safer.
“If you don’t like Bradford so much, why’d you become his new groundskeeper? What happened to the last one?” Kayla asks.
“Oh, um—” Hmm. Questions I should have answers to, I suppose. I do have answers, but they’re not ones I can tell her. Have to keep my cover going. “—it’s actually my first groundskeeping gig. I don’t know what happened to the last one.”
She thinks on it. “The way Mr. Bentley was talking during the interview, it sounds like a lot of people quit the company after Bradford did what he did. Maybe the old groundskeeper quit, too.” It’s as good of an explanation as any, especially since I can’t give her the real one.
“You’re probably right. Can’t believe that many people quit. How’d you hear about the job?”
“I didn’t. I went in thinking maybe I’d get a low secretarial job or something.
I did not stroll into Alpha Life thinking I’d become Bradford’s personal assistant—or his coffee fetcher.
When I was pulled into the bigwig’s office, I was a little confused.
” When I give her a look, she adds, “Okay, a lot confused.”
What made this girl so different that Bentley Sr. would go out on a limb to hire her? Why her? She’s unassuming in every way, and living where she does, I doubt she has the kind of experience someone like him would look for. There has to be more to it, more to it Kayla herself doesn’t realize.
After a few more minutes of driving, I slowly pull into a small turnaround in the front of a ten-story high apartment building that has seen better days.
Frankly, it probably saw better days thirty years ago.
Now? Now it looks beyond repair, like there should be a sign in the dead flower beds near the front door that says: Abandon hope all ye who enter here.
Kayla goes to unbuckle her seatbelt, and before she has the chance to get out, I do something I probably shouldn’t. I speak tentatively, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but is your car really in the shop?”
The look she gives me right then reminds me of a deer in headlights. I just caught her in a lie, and she’s instantly terrified of the outcome.
“It’s fine,” I quickly say, “I’m not judging you or anything. I just… it has to take forever getting to the Bentley estate from here without one. I could swing by and pick you up in the mornings, if you want. It wouldn’t be any trouble—”
“No,” she says. “No, I… I have a car. Like I said, it’s in the shop.” When I only stare back at her, seeing right through her, her shoulders slump. “You see where I live. You know I don’t have a car. Now you can understand why I need this job.”
I nod. “I get it, and like I said, I’m not judging you. Just, please, let me pick you up in the morning. I can get here at seven-thirty. Think of the time it’ll save you. You can sleep in more, eat a bigger breakfast. You wouldn’t have to worry about walking all that way.”
Kayla’s gaze squints in my direction. “Why would you do that for me? Why do you care whether I’m walking or not?”
There are a dozen things I could tell her.
That I want her to be safe. That I don’t want to find her passed out on the street.
That I care about her well-being even though we just met yesterday.
So many different reasons, and yet she probably wouldn’t believe any of them.
The suspicion is written across her every feature.
“Is it really so crazy to you that I might care?” I ask her gently, careful to frame the question as delicately as possible. I don’t want her to feel as if I’m insulting her or calling her stupid or even looking down on her.
She appears almost pained when she mutters, “Yes. Maybe you come from a different world, like Bradford, so let me fill you in: people never do anything out of the kindness of their heart. They always want something from you, even if they don’t admit it to you or even to themselves.
The only person you can really trust is yourself. ”
My hands fall off the steering wheel as a pang hits me right in the chest. It hurts to hear her say that, and it hurts even more knowing she believes it. “Let me put you at ease, then, Kayla: I don’t want anything from you. I just want to help.”
Her lips tug into a sad smile. “Really? There’s nothing at all you want from me? Somehow I don’t believe that.”
“Then why don’t you let me prove it to you? Let me pick you up at seven-thirty. We’ll go day by day.” I can see it in her eyes: she doesn’t quite trust me, doesn’t believe me. “Please, let me try to prove to you not everyone is that bad. There are some good people out there.”
Kayla lets out a long breath, and then she says something I honestly thought she wouldn’t say: “Okay.”
I try not to let my joy over hearing her agree show on my face. Don’t want to scare her off and make her think I do want something from her. “Okay, seven-thirty, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With a nod, she gets out of the truck, and once her feet are firmly planted on the ground, before she shuts the door and walks off, she looks at me and whispers, “Thank you.” She closes the door after that, and I watch her head to the main door of her apartment complex.
Well, I can’t say that went according to plan, seeing as how I didn’t have a plan to begin with, but I do want her to see the light, so to speak.
I want her to have some hope, to believe that, yes, while this world might have some bad eggs in it, not everyone is rotten to the core. There are still some good people.
And as for wanting something from her… I hate to admit it, but she’s not wrong. I do want something from her, something I could never have. It would jeopardize my mission at the Bentley estate, not to mention muddle my thoughts even more so than she already has.
I want her. I want her so damn badly.
I want to make her mine.