Chapter 9 Rachel
Rachel
My laptop screen was covered in photographs while I tried to focus on my claims for the day. Every image showed lives hanging in the balance of my recommendations. I studied them with a knot tied in my stomach.
After today, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of the insurance industry any longer.
I heard Clayton’s heavy footsteps behind me before I felt his presence, the warmth of him radiating against my back as he leaned over my shoulder to look at the photos on the screen.
“That’s the Harrison place,” he said, his voice a low rumble near my ear.
He set both hands on the table, caging me in without quite touching me. “Roof’s been leaking for three years, ever since a big ice storm hit. Insurance keeps denying the claim, so he keeps patching it. They have a baby now. They deserve a good roof over their heads.”
I could feel the heat of him where he hovered. My breath went shallow as I tried to focus on the images in front of me instead of the solid wall of man behind me.
“The damage pattern suggests ongoing water intrusion that predates the hail damage,” I managed, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. “If they’d addressed it earlier…”
“They tried. The insurance company said it was maintenance, not storm damage, so Winslow patched it himself, which meant they denied the next claim, too.” His breath stirred loose hair at my temple, and I resisted the urge to tamp it back down in place.
“Funny how it always lands in the insurance companies’ favor when the homeowner can’t afford a lawyer.
But when they hire a lawyer to fight, suddenly the claim is valid again. ”
I didn’t have a response to that because he wasn’t wrong. There were all kinds of dirty tricks in my industry, and we were pressured to use them all.
We stayed there in charged silence, looking at photo after photo while I pretended my heart wasn’t racing. When I clicked the next image, my elbow brushed his forearm, and neither of us moved away.
“Can I ask you something?” His voice was quieter now.
“Depends on what it is.”
“Why do you insist on wearing those heels out on inspections? You nearly broke your ankle twice today.”
I let out a surprised laugh, some of the tension bleeding from my shoulders.
“You think I’d wear these if I had a choice? “
Then I admitted, “My luggage got lost at the Tulsa airport.” I gestured down at my mud-stained slacks, the same ones I’d been wearing since I arrived.
“I normally keep a pair of sturdy boots and clothes for country properties, but everything was in my checked bag. All I have is what I’m wearing and what was in my carry-on, which was mostly my laptop, my work files and a set of pajamas I bought at the airport gift shop. ”
“But why the heels, anyway? Who flies in high heels? I’ve never seen a claims adjuster dress as fancy as you.”
He was digging into my secrets now. “I… had a job interview. There wasn’t time to change before my flight.”
“Oh,” his tone lightened, going from grim to buoyant in a flash. “So you’re not planning on working for the devil forever?”
I cleared my throat. “Uh… the job is with a different insurance company.”
“Fuck. Seriously? It figures.”
He stepped away and leaned against the counter, studying me, his dark eyes intent on my face, distrust etching his features into stone.
I missed the warmth of him hovering at my back. “Insurance is what I do. I don’t know anything else.”
He frowned at me. “You like living out of a carry-on?”
“Welcome to my life.” The words came out more bitter than I intended. “I spend more time in hotel rooms than I do in my own apartment. Losing luggage is just part of the job. I’ve learned not to get too attached to things.”
“Is it the same with people?”
I knew exactly what he was asking.
Staring down at the photos on my laptop, I told him, “I can’t exactly get attached when my life is spent shuttling around the country.”
For once in my life, I wasn’t sure I wanted that anymore. I thought back to Mrs. Andretti sharing her pot roast and Mrs. Patterson with her tray of peanut butter cookies, and I had to fight hard to keep tears at bay.
After this set of claims was done, I was going to take some time off. Go home and visit my folks. Sit on their fugly couch and eat my momma’s green bean casserole. I suddenly wanted nothing more than human connection in my life.
Clayton was quiet for a moment, and when I glanced up at him, there was something thoughtful in his expression. Something that looked almost like concern.
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “About Mrs. Andretti—”
“Clayton…”
“Hear me out.” He held up a hand. “I know we already talked about this. But you need to understand… she has no one. Her husband died eight years ago. Her only daughter moved to California, and she’s got her own issues.
When that ice storm tore her roof open, Loretta called the insurance company, and they told her it would be weeks before anyone could even come look at it. ”
“So you just showed up and fixed it yourself.”
“My buddy Davis runs a construction company here on Red Oak Mountain. He gives me the scraps from jobs, stuff that would just end up in a landfill otherwise. I used those materials and did the work for free because what else was she supposed to do? Watch her house fall apart around her?”
I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on me. “If I sign off on this wrong, I lose my job. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to throw it all away.”
“And if you don’t sign off on it, she loses her house.
” Clayton’s voice was gentle but firm. “Her and her great-niece. The little girl’s only seven.
Her parents died in a car accident two years ago and Mrs. Andretti took her in without a second thought, even though she can barely afford to feed herself.
Her name’s Mary Ann. You’d be putting Mary Ann out on the street. ”
That was a low blow. Clayton was hitting below the belt, but everything he was saying was true.
My heart clenched in on itself. When we’d been out at Mrs. Andretti’s house I’d seen the little girl’s bedroom, a stuffed dolphin sitting against her pillows.
Her bed had been perfectly made up, and everything had looked nice and new, in stark contrast to the rest of the house.
I could tell Mrs. Andretti was doing everything she could to give the girl a good life.
“Is your life meaningful?” Clayton rumbled.
“What?”
“Your job. Knowing that your decisions hurt people like Mrs. Andretti. Does it feel meaningful to you?”
The question cut deeper than he probably intended. I stared at the images on my computer screen, all those damaged homes and desperate families, and felt something crack open in my chest.
Then I couldn’t look at them anymore. I shut my laptop, stood up and looked out the window into the rainy night outside.
Did it ever stop raining around here?
“No,” I admitted quietly. “It’s not fulfilling. It hasn’t been for a long time.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because I grew up in a place like this.” The words spilled out.
“In a tiny shack in a tiny town in Texas where people have bigger hearts than homes. Everyone knows everyone, but nobody has any money. And the same families have been struggling that way for generations.” I swallowed hard.
“I swore I’d get out. I worked my ass off for grants and student loans so I could afford college, and I left home at eighteen because the nearest university was four hours away. ”
Clayton watched me with his steady eyes, listening intently.
“I thought if I got out and got a good job, I’d finally feel like I had stability.
” I laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“Instead, I live out of a suitcase and call motel rooms my home base. My apartment in Tucson is just a place I visit a few times a month to check my mail. I can’t even have a houseplant, let alone a Nuts and Bolts. ”
Those dogs had worked their way into my heart over the past few days.
I’d gone from someone who got the ick around dogs to seeing the cute expressions on their faces. Their dog drool didn’t even bother me any longer.
“Life could be different,” Clayton rumbled softly. “You’re the architect of your own world, Rachel. You get to decide what you build with it.”
I searched his face for signs of manipulation, wondering if he was just saying what I needed to hear so I’d help Mrs. Andretti. But all I saw was sincerity, and something that looked almost like hope.
I’m falling for him, I realized with a jolt of panic. I’m actually falling for this stubborn mountain man. And he’s going to ruin my life.
The silence stretched between us, thick with everything we weren’t saying. At some point we’d both moved closer, drawn together by some gravity I couldn’t name, and now we stood near enough that I could count the flecks of gold in his eyes.
Clayton’s hand came up slowly, like he wasn’t sure when he’d decided to touch me, and his rough fingers traced along my jaw. The calluses on his palm caught against my skin, and I shivered at his touch.
I leaned into him without meaning to, my body making decisions my mind hadn’t approved.
“I fixed the furnace a few minutes ago while you were working,” he said, his voice husky and low.
“Oh.” The word came out breathless, disappointed. “That’s… good. That’s why it’s warmer in here right now.”
“Yeah. But I’m going to be honest with you, Rachel. I kind of liked having you in my bed.” His thumb traced my cheekbone, featherlight. “You’ve got options now, so I won’t force the issue. I’m going to leave my bedroom door unlocked tonight and you can make the decision about where you sleep.”
My heart stuttered in my chest.
Clayton hesitated for half a second, his gaze dropping to my mouth, and I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me, wanted it so badly I could taste it.
But then he stepped back, and the loss of his warmth felt like a physical ache.
“Goodnight, Rachel.”
He left the room without looking back, Nuts and Bolts scrambling up from their spots to follow him. They gave me a look like they were wondering if I was coming along, too.
I heard his bedroom door open and close, and then I was alone with the wreckage of my life.
Clayton wants me.
Somehow that fact took over all my thoughts until I was a jumbled mess.
I couldn’t even work on my reports, I was too out of sorts.
They’ll have to wait until morning.
Which was rare for me, because I never went to bed before submitting my claims.
I went to my room and tried to fall asleep. The sheets were cold without his body heat, and I lay there staring at the ceiling, wired and restless and unable to think about anything except the man on the other side of the wall.
His door is unlocked.
The thought kept circling back no matter how many times I tried to push it away.
He wants me.
I turned onto my side, punching my pillow into a more comfortable shape. This was insane. I’d known him for three days.
It was only eight p.m. and we were both going to bed ridiculously early. But what else was there to do? I couldn’t concentrate on anything except that man.
He represented everything I’d worked so hard to escape: the small-town life, a hand-to-mouth existence, and a world where people fixed things with salvaged materials and handshake deals because they couldn’t afford anything else.
But he also represented something I’d lost along the way. Connection and community. The feeling of belonging somewhere instead of just passing through.
And I was regrettably in heat for him.
I wanted to drag my lips across his beard and feel it prickling against my skin. Feel his powerful arms holding me in place while he did devilish things to me.
Clayton was the kind of man I knew would give me the fuck of a lifetime, if I only let him.
The trouble was, would once be enough?
I was reconsidering everything about my life because of the man. He was dangerous, upending the careful control I’d maintained for all these years.
After lying there for hours, I pulled my hair out of its bun, suddenly feeling bound by the restraint of the silk scrunchie holding it in place.
Then I slipped my hand down to my wet folds, finding my clit.
Maybe I should just…
I tried, rubbing my clit furiously. But even though I made myself come, that didn’t stop the confusion inside me.
Or the hunger. I wouldn’t be content until I’d had that man, rocking myself on his cock and riding him all the way through the night. I was dripping wet for him and sleep was a thousand years away.
The clock on my phone showed 11:47.
Then 11:52.
11:58.
At exactly midnight, I threw off the covers and padded barefoot down the hallway. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears as I stopped outside his door.
I raised my hand and knocked.
Would he still be awake?