Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Hayden
Ituck the couch cushion I was using as a desk for my laptop back in place, and the sound of a car engine draws my eye to the window.
Pushing the linen curtain aside, I peer at the red truck pulling up next to my seven-year-old compact SUV.
The beater truck makes my used SUV look like a fine piece of machinery.
Adam said he was coming around ten, and it’s about that now, but there is no way this is Adam.
For one, that beater truck is not an Adam-worthy vehicle.
He drove a gazillion-dollar sports car to Zach’s dinner party.
Nothing but the best for him. Second, the driver of this truck appears to be wearing a baseball cap.
Adam in a baseball cap? No way.
But the hairs on my arms are standing at attention, which is never a good sign if my instincts around Adam are to be trusted.
The man steps out of the truck, pulls off the baseball cap, and tosses it inside. And I have to give my body props. It detected Adam sight unseen from dozens of feet away and through a glass barrier. And he looks…whoa.
I am in so much trouble.
Adam is wearing worn jeans that hug the amazing ass I normally only glimpse when he takes off his suit jacket, which is never.
He has on a navy T-shirt that pulls taut over his shoulders and arms, and his jeans are gathered at the bottom over work boots.
In short, he is mountain guy, mouth-watering hotness, and I am panting.
What the hell? How dare he come to my house looking like this? Adam in an Armani suit has my ovaries percolating—but dressed all rugged and sexy? Not acceptable.
He leans into the cab and pulls out a toolbox, his shirt riding up and exposing a swath of flat stomach and the thick muscle above his hipbone that has my jaw dropping.
His hair isn’t combed, but mussed and slightly wavy, flipping out in some places.
Several locks tumble over his temples, and I have the urge to grab those locks in my fist and ask him what he’s trying to do to me.
Goddammit. Casual, no-artifice Adam completely undoes me. And he’s walking to my door.
I turn left, then right, searching—for what, I have no idea.
Get it together.
Taking a calming breath, I scramble for the door, and catch my toe on the edge of the couch. “Ahh!” My face scrunches as I hop around, mentally shouting every expletive known to man.
I drop my foot to the floor and exam my red little pinky toe. Not crooked. Pain diminishing. Just a stub.
“You okay in there?” Adam’s baritone filters through the door with a tinge of humor.
Is he laughing at me?
I limp over and swing the door open. And suck in a breath. And look at the side of his head instead of his eyes. And take another breath.
There. That’s better. Don’t look into the eye of the storm, and everything will be okay. “Yes. It’s fine. I stubbed my toe.”
There’s a pause, and finally I look at his face, because it’s getting weird that I’m not. He’s smiling, and oh my God. There’s a dimple in his cheek I never noticed. It’s faint, but combine it with the mussed hair, the tight T-shirt across a thick, muscled chest, and I feel lightheaded.
His brow puckers, his expression turning serious as he scans my face. “You sure you’re okay? I could come back another time.”
I wave him inside. “No, I’m fine.” I’m so not fine.
He walks past me with the metal toolbox in one hand.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” I ask.
He looks around, taking the place in. “I’m good. This place yours?”
“No, it’s a stranger’s. I asked if I could borrow it.”
His gaze slides to me, eyebrow arched, his mouth turned up. “This how it’s going to be today?”
I let out a sigh. “Of course it’s mine,” I wobble into the living room, pinky toe feeling better, but not fully recovered.
Adam has me rattled. I can’t look at him. It makes me vulnerable. And by vulnerable, I mean I want to jump him.
“So.” He resumes his visual scan of the place. “What’s it to be? You need a lightbulb changed?”
“Haha, you’re hilarious. I believe the bet was that you would build me something. I see you brought your tools.” I eye the large metal box.
“My tools are ready.”
I flash him a look, and it might be filled with fear and panic. If he starts flirting with me the way he did a couple of nights ago with that naughty text, I’m dead.
“Hayden?” The humor in his eyes has disappeared. “Any chance I can convince you to stay out of my business over the next few weeks while I hire people?”
For a moment, I’m ready to give in. To tell him he can have whatever he wants.
Because the look on his face is so unguarded and sincere, all my barriers come down.
But I made a promise to myself to find whatever I could about Blue’s underground activities.
I can’t back out now. “Sorry, I plan to be all up in your business. Regarding human resources, that is. Why is it such a big deal if I know about the people you hire?”
He looks away. “It just is.”
I let out a sigh and try a different tactic.
“What happened with Bridget could have been prevented. If you’d given me the opportunity to go over Blue’s policies with her, she might have thought twice before starting her side business.
Which brings up another point. Those men involved were never reprimanded.
How is it that Bridget gets fired, but the guys buying dirty images during work hours were never held accountable? ”
“It’s been looked into. Most of them made the financial transaction after hours. And if we reprimanded all of them, it would be the entire male staff.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“There were a few who didn’t partake, myself included, but the rest—”
“Because you didn’t know about it,” I grumble.
He captures my gaze. “I wouldn’t have participated even if I had known.”
I wet my lips, studying his blue eyes, which appear to be telling me something his words aren’t. His presence unsettles me, makes me crazy, but the way he’s looking now has my heart pounding faster.
Adam’s gaze drops to my mouth, where the moisture left behind from my tongue cools. He tears his gaze away. “What’s this thing you want me to build?” he says gruffly.
I clear my throat. “Over here.”
I take Adam down the hallway, still rattled by whatever just passed between us, and point to the door of a closet that shares a wall with my bedroom. “I want you to close off this door in the hall and make an entrance to my bedroom. Oh, and built-ins. I would love built-ins for all of my shoes.”
He stares at the door, then turns to me. “You’re joking, right? You want me to build you a master closet?”
Okay, so it’s more of a construction job, but hey, he agreed to it. “I’m dead serious.”
He chuckles and scratches his unshaven jaw. “Hayden, this is not even close to what I had in mind. Originally, the bet was for me to fix something.”
“Oh no, that’s what you said. But I agreed to you building me something. And I’d love a walk-in closet using this space.” I gesture proudly at the hall closet.
He cranes his head to the side, peering inside my bedroom. “What’s wrong with the one you have?”
I love my bedroom. It’s gray and violet with an espresso bed I bought when I moved back into the place. The furniture in the living room is old and original from when my parents and I lived here, but the bedroom furniture is new. Living room furniture will be phase two of the house remodel.
“It’s too small. Doesn’t fit my shoes.”
He stalks inside the bedroom and opens the accordion closet doors. A single rail holds all seasons of clothing and boxes line the foot of the closet. “If you move these boxes, you’ll have room for your shoes. You actually don’t have very many clothes.”
True, I keep my wardrobe under control, donating unused or outdated items on a regular basis. The boxes contain puffy coats and snow boots, and a few other cold-weather items.
“Actually, the shoes won’t fit,” I say. “Even if I put the winter boxes in the attic.”
He raises his eyebrow and scans the closet. “Where are your shoes?”
I smile. “You see, now you’re catching on. This is why I need the walk-in.” I head back into the hallway and open the hall closet, turning on the inside light.
Adam peers at the shelves and slowly sets down his toolbox. He whistles. “Never knew you were a shoe hoarder.”
My face warms. I hadn’t thought about how personal this project might be. “I have a bit of a shoe obsession. I’m not a hoarder. I’m a collector.”
He grabs a pair of chunky, flat Mary Janes tucked away on a top shelf. “These still fit?”
“I wore those every day of my senior year. They were my favorites. And yes, they fit.”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Hayden, if you get rid of some of these shoes, the rest will work in your bedroom closet.”
I grab my Mary Janes and dust them off hastily with the sleeve of my shirt.
“And give you nothing to do? No way. Besides, I want a walk-in closet.” My voice goes dreamy.
“With walls of shelving devoted to these beauties.” I hug the shoes to my chest, and he covers his mouth with his hand, hiding what I detect is a smile.
I jump up and tuck the shoes back in their place on the top shelf. “Don’t you think you should get to work? It’s a big project.”
My hall closet is nice and deep. It’s going to make an awesome walk-in.
He shakes his head and picks up the toolbox. “Sure thing, Ms. Marcos.”
“Imelda Marcos? That’s cute. Very funny,” I say dryly.
“Isn’t it?” He grins.
I purse my lips. He’s making fun of me… I can live with that. As long as he builds a kick-ass walk-in closet for all my pretties.
Adam owes me this. Call it punishment for his arrogance these last few months, which culminated in the cherry on the top with him assuming anyone could do my job and hire good employees. Ones who don’t sell explicit photos to other employees.