Chapter Fifteen
Margo
“Idon’t think I can do this,” I whispered to myself after Hayes got out of the SUV.
I didn’t have the stomach to look up at the skyscraper as he pulled into the parking garage below.
I couldn’t look anywhere but at him as he rounded the front of the truck.
He was in the same clothes he wore yesterday, but still just as devastating.
The longer strands of his blond hair at the top of his head were still damp from his shower and there was a light dusting of hair on his jawline that made my body shiver with desire.
Last night, as expected, I didn’t get much sleep.
Then again, how could I when Hayes was less than thirty feet away, sleeping on my couch?
I spent the first half of the night tossing and turning.
Then around three, I was too angry to just lie there.
I threw my covers off, grabbed my laptop, and emailed Professor Ashley, looping her into the shitshow that was my life.
Around five in the morning, when I was deep into reading over the project file to see what I’d miss next semester, she replied.
Hayes said he was going to fix everything and get my money back, but it was hard for me to believe him.
Gordon was an asshole. A dangerous asshole with a spending problem.
If he was still the same asshole from years ago, then my money was gone already.
Professor Ashley expressed her concern, and by the time I reached the end of the email, tears were brimming and my chest was tight.
She was going to reach out to some colleagues and see if there were any scholarships with open applications that I could apply for.
After I finished crying over that brilliant woman, I pulled out my journal and brain dumped everything, letting all the pain, frustration, and fear seep onto the pages until the muscles in my hand ached.
Even then, I didn’t stop and by the time I was done, six pages had been filled with my hurried scribbles and my hand throbbed.
The passenger side door opened, bringing me back into the present. Hayes held the door open wide, waiting for me to get out, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t move.
“Margo?”
“I think I probably should’ve said yes to your offer this morning,” I mumbled, giving him a pathetic smile.
His brow furrowed. “What offer?”
“Coffee.”
“Jake has his new espresso machine in the break room. You’re more than welcome to make yourself some,” he said. “He could use a lesson or two in making coffee.”
I bit the inside of my bottom lip. “Yeah, Cardinal mentioned it was bad.”
“Carrie was being generous. It’s shit,” he deadpanned. “You ready?”
No. There was no universe or dimension in which I would ever be ready to do what I’m about to do.
“What floor is Red Snake on?” I asked, stalling.
“Twenty-third.”
“Oh.” I focused on my hands, lacing my fingers together in my lap as shards of glass poked holes in the lining of my esophagus.
“Hey, look at me,” he ordered, using the same voice from last night.
It was like a warm, protective embrace that promised to never let me go, no matter how hard things got.
That voice had the power to break down my walls, to convince my psyche to let him see all the broken parts of me—and I had.
When I’d come out of my bedroom earlier, I found my blankets neatly folded and perched on the right side of the couch.
My living room was spotless. It was like he hadn’t kicked in my door and invaded my life.
My stomach had dropped at the sight, and suddenly, I yanked back in time—to the morning after.
He wasn’t in the kitchen or the bathroom, and just as I was about to let the weight of him leaving me again crush me, my front door opened.
He’d gone down to the Buoy to have a chat with Joey about my windows.
He refused to tell me what was said during this chat, but he announced that someone would be here on Friday to install new windows in every room.
“Margo,” Hayes murmured, “look at me.”
I lifted my head but stopped short when my eyes landed on the steel doors a few feet away.
Shit.
Shit.
Damn.
Fuck.
“Do we have to take the elevator?” I blurted, trying not to envision the two of us in an elevator…
alone. There was just something about them that made my imagination run wild, and I’d shamelessly imagined this bounty hunter and myself being trapped in an elevator multiple times.
Too many, if I was being honest. If I had a therapist, out of all my other shit, the elevator sex dream would be at the top of the list of “Things Margo Needs to Heal.”
“Temper.”
Shit. I’d been staring at the elevator doors. “Hmm?” I hummed, feeling heat climb up my neck, spreading in my cheeks.
Hayes raised a brow, his eyes scanning my face. “Do you have a fear of elevators?”
I could say that. Yeah, that would definitely—
“If so, I need you to get over that, because there is no way in fuck I’m climbing twenty-three flights of stairs right now,” he informed me, brushing his knuckle against his nose, glancing at the stairwell entrance.
I—what?
I glared at him. “Last night, you said there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do to keep me safe.”
He clicked his tongue. “Yes, but it’s eight in the fucking morning and I haven’t had coffee. You didn’t want to stop and get coffee.”
“Oh, so Mr. Perfect Top Gun needs coffee to wake up?” I quipped.
Before he could reply, my mouth just kept running.
I threw my hands up and rolled my eyes. “Jesus, the only reason I said no to coffee was because you’ve already done so much for me and, I have to admit, after our one-night stand, I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around the fact that you’re as perfect as I imagined.
If you needed coffee, then you should’ve stopped for coffee. ”
Maybe it was the lack of sleep.
Maybe it was the high-stakes emotion I’d been running on for the last forty-eight hours.
Or maybe it was because deep down, I was tired of holding everything in, tired of pretending I was something I wasn’t.
I wasn’t the perfect woman who had her shit together, who made good money, and still had the energy to make home-cooked meals more than twice a week.
I wasn’t a successful businesswoman like Sarah or Pam—hell, even Cardinal.
Her photography business is taking off, and she is handling it with a grace that should be studied.
I’m just a small-town barista/bartender with a bad family. I’m no good—
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hayes growled.
It was then I realized that I hadn’t been talking to him, but rather, his windshield. Slowly, I turned my head, and my eyes widened as I finally noticed how he was looking at me.
He looked downright feral.
“Hayes?”
He moved, stepping up to me, blocking my view of the parking garage, taking my chin between his fingers, tipping my head back. He bent, getting in my space, the smell of mint gum on his breath. “While we’re in here, I’m going to need you to refrain from throwing attitude at me.”
Excuse me?
“Why?”
“Because it makes me hard, and I can’t focus on getting this shit done if you do that.”
All the air in my lungs left me as I gaped at him, my cheeks on fire now.
Were we…were we pretending right now? I glanced at the camera in the corner by the stairwell, the red-light blinking just below the lens.
Had the guys from Red Snake seen us?
“And while we’re at it, even though I fucking love it, stop being sweet to me,” he tacked on harshly. “I can’t handle that shit right now either.”
“Then what do you want me to do?” I whispered. “Be a bitch or be sweet?”
His eyes flashed with heat, and he dropped his head, muttering something I couldn’t hear.
“Hayes, what the hell was that?” I hissed. I looked up to the cameras and back to him. “Was that pretend? Are the guys watching us?”
His head snapped up, his jaw jumping. “Nothing about the way you make me feel is pretend, Margo Bennett. Nothing about what happened between us weeks ago was a lie. Nothing between us will ever be a fucking lie. I need you to understand that.”
My hand wrapped around his wrist. “You told me last night that—”
“I said a lot of shit last night.”
I nodded. “Yeah, you fucking did.”
His eyes dropped to my lips. “We can’t talk about this here. Not now.”
No, I needed to talk about this. I needed to know what was going on inside his head. “Hayes, we need to talk about us.”
“Yeah,” he rumbled. “We do, but not here. Right now, you have to take my hand and come upstairs with me.”
Fear reared its ugly head around the corner, sporting a nasty smile, and aimed it at me.
Swallowing the new lump in my throat, I whispered, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
His hand at my chin moved, cupping my jaw, his fingers stretching back into my hair. He stepped closer, leaning over me in the cab, our faces inches from one another now. “You’re one of the strongest women I know,” he whispered, his minty breath skating across my lips. “You absolutely can do this.”
“They can’t know everything,” I rasped. “They can’t—”
“Shh,” he cooed, his thumb stroking my cheek. “You’re the one with the power here. Last night, I gave you the basis of what my guys would need. Tell them that. Set a boundary, and they’ll respect it. I promise.”
“No one else can know.” I shook my head. “I never wanted anyone to know.”
“Then why did you tell me?” he asked.
My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Last night, you could’ve told me to fuck off. I would’ve fucking hated it, but I would’ve done it.”
I tried to lean back, but his hold on me was firm. And, for added measure, his other arm snaked around my waist, yanking me to the edge of the seat, holding me against him. “You didn’t give me that impression last night,” I lied.
He saw right through me. “You had a choice. With me, you’ll always have a choice. Why did you open up to me last night?”
“Hayes, I think we should go inside,” I said. “We’re already late.”
“Fuck that. Answer the question,” he snapped.