Chapter 18 #2
Adam would have been involved in hiring for his department regardless, but every applicant goes through a thorough human resources check. That’s the part he skipped, and I’m determined to know why he and Blackwell felt it necessary.
I plop down on my bed and watch Adam remove all the items from the hall closet.
And God, is it entrancing. The swell of his biceps as he pulls a box down; his muscular ass as he bends to set it on the floor.
Really, all he’d have to do is move things around my house for an hour and I’d call us even. Because this view…
Should I video it?
No, that’s stalkerish.
I do not stalk Adam Cade. Lust from afar—absolutely, but not stalk. Why would I want to do that when I’m forced to put up with his arrogance every day at work? But this sexy, casual Adam who uses his brawn to build me stuff? This Adam I could get used to. “Need any help?”
He sets down another box and braces his arm against the doorframe to my bedroom, the underside of his forearm and bicep bulging. “I got it. But I’ll take you up on that offer of a drink now. Water would be great.”
I tear my eyes away from his body to look at his face, which isn’t helping because the lightly scruffed, mussy-haired Adam is equally entrancing.
It was a bad idea to invite him into my home.
“Of course.” I jump up and cross the room, inching carefully past him. And okay, taking a light whiff of him. He even smells good. A just-showered, soapy boy scent.
Inside the kitchen, I suck in a breath of Adam-free air and knock my head on the fridge a couple of times to rattle some sense into it. I fill a glass of water and turn around—to Adam standing at the end of the galley kitchen.
“Your head okay?” he says, his mouth curled in a half-smile.
“No,” I grumble quietly. My brain is fogged because of this jackass.
“What was that?” he says.
“Nothing.” I hand him the water. “You need anything else?”
He shakes his head, taking in the updated kitchen. “Do you own this place?”
I glance at the space I lovingly remodeled. Before I bought the house, the kitchen was 1970s yellow. Now it features white-painted Shaker cabinets and limestone counters. “I bought it as soon as I returned to town.”
Adam gulps the water, watching me. “Didn’t you want to rent for a bit? Make sure you’re in for the long haul? You’ve been gone a long time.”
I fill another glass and take a sip. “It’s complicated. I bought the place from my parents. They weren’t able to sell it when we first left town. They rented it after we moved, but part of me always felt I owed them.”
He looks around some more, as though seeing it from a different perspective. “It’s small, but I don’t see why your parents wouldn’t have been able to sell it. Lots of people look for mountain cabins as second homes.”
I set the glass on the counter and face him. “It wasn’t the size, or the way it looks. You were there, Adam. You saw how people treated me—the way you treated me—”
His face tenses. “I wasn’t cruel to you.”
“Weren’t you?”
He stretches his neck and looks away. “I told Jaeg to break up with you—”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Because,” he says with emphasis, his gaze sliding back to me, “I didn’t want him dating you.”
Adam’s eyes aren’t cynical or sly. His gaze is half-lidded, and very intent.
“You didn’t want me with Jaeg…and it had nothing to do with the rumor?”
He shakes his head slowly.
“Then why?”
He drops his chin, and suddenly my throat goes dry. It’s not like men haven’t desired me. It’s that no one who consumes my thoughts ever has. And whether those thoughts are images of killing him, or kissing him, Adam has been on my mind since he started working at Blue.
What is happening? Adam flirts with me. He harasses me. But showing genuine interest? What he’s talking about goes way back—eleven years. That’s not simple flirting with a coworker, that’s…something else.
“I was sixteen and stupid, but I shouldn’t have done it,” he says.
“I know I already apologized, but I am sorry.” He looks away and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it even more.
He sets the glass down and his expression lightens.
“I better get back to work. It’s gonna take a while to build the closet for you.
” His mouth twists wryly, but I’m still hung up on his admission.
I don’t understand Adam. Not at all.
I lust after him. Adam flirts, because it’s his nature—he’s a lady-killer.
But what he implied… Never in a million years would I have guessed he might have been jealous of Jaeger and me.
He hinted at another reason for his actions in high school the night of the taco dinner, but I assumed he was referring to me not being good enough for Jaeger.
I was skinny, nerdy—who am I kidding, I’m still nerdy—and I wasn’t popular. There could have been no other reason why he would want Jaeger to break up with me. Not with the rumor and everything else going on.
Unless he wanted Jaeger to break up with me before the rumor broke out. And I have no idea what to do with that.
Adam walks into the living room and glances back. “You might want to stay out here. I’ll be demoing.”
I’m still reeling—until I register his words.
“Wait! What do you mean?” I sweep after him into the hallway. All the shoes and boxes are out of the closet and Adam is standing inside, safety goggles on his face, a hammer poised above his head.
“Adam. Put. The. Hammer. Down. What are you doing?”
He grins mischievously. “What you asked.” Wham. He slams the face of the hammer into the wall, then uses the claw to rip away a chunk of brittle white board.
I gape at the hole. Then him. Then the hole again. “Is this wise?”
I figured he would have backed out by now and admitted he couldn’t do the work. I should have someone qualified building this, not Adam Cade.
He brushes white powder from his shirt and peers inside the wall.
“You said you wanted a walk-in.” He looks over and cocks his brow.
“For your shoes.” Wham. He slams the hammer down, knocking away more of the surface separating the closet from my bedroom.
“And if that’s the case, you’ll need an entrance. ”
Insulation and white chalk float in the air, creating a cloud of dust and other crap.
“I can’t watch,” I murmur, and move into the living room.
I take a seat on the couch cross-legged, and flinch every time Adam bangs at my wall. He was right. This is a big project. What was I thinking?
I know what I was thinking. I wanted to punish him. Except I’m the one who will be punished when my “walk-in” comes out misshapen and nonfunctional.
It’s my fault. I was prideful about work. Granted, I was right about Bridget. But still, why did I make a bet with Adam? Nothing good comes from gambling with a man who makes you mad with frustration one moment, and mad with lust the next.
After an hour of banging and ripping sounds fill my house, Adam calls me into the bedroom. And he has a power saw in his hand, tarps draped over the floor and other surfaces.
“What’s that for?” My voice is high-pitched.
He raps his knuckles on the wood paneling. “Need a hole where the new closet will go. I’ve measured it out, but I just wanted to make sure it’s a standard door you’re putting in before I cut.”
“Don’t you dare cut up my walls.”
He lowers the saw. “Hayden, how do you expect to have a walk-in closet without an opening you can walk through? You said you wanted an entrance directly into the bedroom.”
I throw up my hands. “I don’t know. But these are my pretty walls.” I walk over and pet the wood. “What if you ruin them?”
He sighs. “Do you trust me?”
“Hell no. You’re a pretty boy who shouldn’t be holding power tools.”
He shakes his head and steps forward, lifting my chin with the tip of one lightly callused finger that has no right being callused, according to my stereotype. “You really think that of me?” His eyes are intent. He’s forcing me to admit what I’ve never allowed myself to.
Somewhere along the way I stopped viewing Adam as a spoiled little rich boy.
He’s a hard worker, whom I respect more than I like to acknowledge.
He challenges me. But more important, Adam has always treated me like an equal.
He’s not one of the Neanderthals we work with.
And I suspect there’s even a sensitive side to him.
“No, I don’t think that of you,” I finally say.
He drops his hand, only to reach for my palm and twine our fingers. My heartbeat ratchets up a notch. He tucks our clasped hands against my belly and steps forward, pushing until I’m forced to take a step back. And another, until I’m in the hall.
He slides his fingers from mine, sending zingers of electricity up my arm, and looks at me pointedly. “Stay here, where it’s safe.”
Adam moves in front of the paneled wall, lowers protective glasses from the top of his head, and fires up the saw.
I cover my ears as he makes the first cut, and run for cover in the living room.
Shockingly, I do trust Adam to work on my house, which says a lot, because I put my entire savings into buying this place from my parents.
Hours pass as I try to work while not flinching every time Adam makes a loud sound. Finally, he enters the living room, carrying his toolbox.
I swing my legs off the couch and stand. “Everything okay?” I peer around him toward the hallway. “That was fast. Is it all done?”
He tucks a measuring tape in his back pocket.
“Not even close. I’ll return tomorrow. A little later than today, probably—around one.
I have some things to take care of for work.
I’ll be by after that.” He rubs his chin, leaving a hint of dirt behind that matches the faint dark lines beneath his eyes.
“Work on a Sunday?” I say.
He glances at my laptop and raises his eyebrow.
“Right. I guess the casino never shuts down, does it?”
“No,” he says.
I hesitate for a moment. Part of me wonders why he looks so tired, with those dark shadows under his eyes, and the other part of me is eager as hell to find out what he’s doing for Blue on a Sunday. “And you’ve been busy with…?”
He gives me a knowing smile. I guess my fishing efforts are obvious. “Stuff,” he says.
“Right, stuff.” Because even if I won our bet, Adam won’t fill me in on what he’s up to.
I walk him to the door, guilt overtaking my desire to keep him here as my work slave, though the view would be amazing if I did. “Thank you for the closet. I know I asked a lot. We can call it even.”
He glances back skeptically. “With a hole in your wall and your shoe collection homeless? You might change your tune once you take a look back there.”
Awesome. Now I am worried, but I still feel like I’ve taken advantage of him. “I can hire someone. You’ve done the demo. That counts for something.”
“Still don’t trust me?” A small smile spreads across his face, but there’s hurt behind his eyes.
“No, that’s not it,” I say quickly. God, why is he making this so difficult? “I’m trying to admit that it was ridiculous of me to ask you to build a closet in the first place.”
“I don’t mind.” He turns and strides toward his truck. “I like working with my hands.”
And that’s the biggest shocker of all. Adam isn’t as polished and uptight as I thought. He’s rather handy to have around.
Or maybe it’s not so shocking.
Because there’s a chance I never really knew Adam.