1. Emma
One
Emma
Some days I hate being an adult. I hate being responsible. For once, I just want someone to take care of me. I was forced to be independent from a young age, and some days I’m so fucking tired of not having anyone other than my brother to lean on. I get shit done on my own and have from a young age. My father left when I was two, and my mom was always busy doing God knows what. Leaving my older brother and me to fend for ourselves and figure out life on our own, but somehow we did.
He learned how to use a stove years before any child should be allowed to. Somehow there was always a meal I was willing to eat because he had cooked it. It wasn’t until I started getting sick and ended up in the hospital that everything had changed. When the doctors told me I had type one diabetes, I thought my father would come home. That my mother would stop drinking and doing drugs, but they didn’t care. If anything, I was more of an inconvenience than I already had been. It forced us to grow up faster than we should have. My mother made it clear that she thought it was from eating too much shit while she was away on her binges. The doctor explained to her that that isn’t how you get type one, but of course she wouldn’t listen.
Jake was set on learning everything he could, and he took care of me. Maybe it wasn’t fair that a ten-year-old was taking care of a seven-year-old, but he did the best he could. He always made sure my blood sugar was checked, I was eating, and I was feeling okay. We quickly learned that test strips were expensive, and Mom refused to pay, blaming me once again and telling me that if I just ate normally, I would be okay. That I needed to stop eating anything with sugar and only eat healthy food. Again, most of the time, my blood sugar is too low . So, Jake, being the best brother and having to take care of someone he never should have had to, resorted to stealing the test strips for me.
He only got caught once, and thankfully it was by Miss Anne, who knew about our situation. From that day on, test strips always showed up in our mailbox, and sometimes other things like snacks, clothes, and books. Anything she could think of to make our life a little better. I’m not sure what Jake and I would have done without her during that time, or if I would even be alive right now. While I no longer talk to my mom, I still call Jake almost every other day. He never really got out of father mode when it came to me. Even though I’m an adult and remind him that I can take care of myself, he’s still there to assure me that he has my back if I ever need him. Sometimes, I miss having a brother, but I guess I needed a father too.
But ever since that mystery man punched Blake in the face for me months ago, I’ve been wondering if maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone by my side. Someone like him . Someone who happened to hear a man calling me all these names came straight over, punched him in his smug face, handed me money, and told me to go home. I didn’t even know his name at that time, but I became obsessed with him and wanted to know everything about him.
What I didn’t expect was to end up working with him side by side. Five days after that night, the company I work for as a design coordinator picked up a project in collaboration with his construction firm, C&E. And just like that, the mystery man was no longer a fantasy. He was real. And kind of a dick. Turns out, I liked him a lot more when I didn’t know what kind of man he actually was. The type who barely talks unless it’s to bark orders, always serious, and always sharp around the edges. Our conversations are short and clipped, professional at best. But every time I glance his way, I catch him already looking. And damn it, if that doesn’t make my feelings worse. Neither of us has mentioned the night at the bar. Sometimes, I wonder if he even remembers me.
I was never the girl who really formed an attachment to people, especially men. But fuck, watching him right now as he does the countertops in the master bathroom has me clenching my thighs together. It’s been hell seeing him work. That messy brown hair, the white T-shirt always smudged with dirt, and those damn Levi’s jeans with holes in the knees. He shouldn’t look that good doing something so simple, but he does. And maybe that’s the problem. I told myself I just wanted one night. One night to scratch the itch, to satisfy the curiosity. But something about the way he stepped in that night, no hesitation, just action, made him feel like a hero to me. Maybe I’ve got some twisted thing in me. When a man shows me the slightest care, it flips a switch, making me feel attached when I shouldn’t. Especially to someone like him, a man who barely makes eye contact with me.
I had been feeling a little off for the last hour, not dizzy exactly, but not fully there either. A fuzziness in my head. I chalked it up to nerves at being around Connor or maybe the lack of caffeine. I pulled out my phone to check my blood sugar, but someone called my name and startled me. I jumped at the sudden sound, spinning around to find someone from Connor’s company. I think his name was Garrett, giving me a curious look.
My cheeks instantly flushed with embarrassment.
“Are you okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, why?”
“You seemed a little zoned out, and you’re kind of pale.”
“Am I?” I asked, my heart starting to race, not from panic, but from realization. Shit. When was the last time I ate? I pulled out my phone and opened my Dexcom app, already bracing myself. Sure enough, my blood sugar was a lot lower than I’d like to see.
Fuck.
I should’ve known better. My pump had been delivering insulin, and without any food intake, it was doing exactly what it was supposed to, just at my body’s expense. Of course I forgot to suspend it.
Taking a shaky breath, I sat down on the nearest seat while Garrett squatted in front of me. “What is it?”
“Garrett, get away from her,” Connor barked, immediately catching my attention. He stepped between Garrett and me, pushing him aside before bending down to meet my eyes. His expression was unreadable, like always, and I knew he was going to be annoyed that I distracted his worker, but then there was a flash of concern in his eyes that I hadn’t seen since the night of the bar. “What’s wrong?”
I felt dizzy, a side effect of my blood sugar dropping. I blinked a couple of times, trying to steady myself. “My blood sugar,” I told him, my voice a little shakier than I intended.
“What?” His voice was laced with confusion.
“I’m diabetic,” I explained.
“You are?” His eyes widened, his hand inadvertently brushing against my thigh as he instinctively moved closer. The touch was light but sent an unexpected jolt through me. He almost looked flustered, his eyes darting to mine as if he were reassessing everything about me. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “I had no idea.”
I nodded, my pulse still racing, not entirely from the drop in my blood sugar, but from the sudden proximity of Connor. We’ve never been this close before, and the heat of his body was making me feel things I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “I have a couple of things in my bag. Can you grab it for me?” I asked.
Without another word, he was up and moving toward my bag. He dumped everything out with no hesitation. A few protein bars, a stash of candy, and a small salad that was meant for my lunch spilled out in a heap. He grabbed everything and shoved it toward me. “Here,” he said, not even seeming to notice how his hand lingered slightly too long on my wrist when he handed me the protein bar.
I reached for it with unsteady hands, but before I could open it, Connor snatched it from me, tore it open, and held it up to my mouth. His eyes searched mine for any sign of protest, almost as if he was looking for me to challenge him. “Small bites,” he instructed.
I nodded, taking a couple of small bites, my heart racing in my chest, not from the sugar this time, but from this man feeding me. As I chewed, he opened a water bottle and helped me take a sip, his hand steadying mine when it trembled. If my head wasn’t so clouded by dizziness, I might have thought about how good this felt. How good he felt, taking care of me in a way that made everything inside me tingle.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice still a little shaky but already sounding better.
“No problem,” he muttered, but his tone was distant, detached. Despite the fact that he was physically closer than ever, it seemed as though he was already thinking of his next move and how to get away from me.
I took the water bottle from his hand, my fingers brushing against his. My mind screamed at me to not think about the rejection that would come with him. “I’m fine. You can go back to work now.”
“Like hell I will,” he shot back instantly, his voice firm. He crossed his arms, standing over me with an expression that was now more stubborn than concerned. “I’m not leaving you alone after that.”
I frowned. “Why not? I’m fine. I told you I have everything under control. You don’t need to babysit me.”
“Because you could have passed out!” His voice rose a little. “You should have told me.”
“I don’t go around telling people I’m diabetic,” I snapped, a little sharper than I meant. “I keep it in check. It’s fine. Really.”
“Is it, though?” His gaze was piercing, and I could see just a hint of worry creeping into his eyes again. “Because last I checked, you were about to hit the floor.”
I bit my lip, trying not to look at him too hard, but his words were making me feel exposed in a way I hated. “I forgot to eat,” I shrugged. “Got sidetracked, but it doesn’t happen often.”
“You can’t forget to eat,” he insisted, his voice quieter now. “You’re not just some-” He stopped himself, clearly frustrated.
“Mr. Easton, I’m fine,” I huffed, feeling irritated at the whole situation now. “You don’t have to pretend like you care. We’re just coworkers.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Almost like he didn’t know what to say. “Guess so, huh?”
“You haven’t even given me the time of day in all the weeks we’ve been working together. Now all of a sudden you want to take care of me?” It was bitchy of me, and maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but fuck. He drives me crazy. One minute he’s punching someone in the face for me, and the next he pretends like he doesn’t know who I am.
“Should I have let you pass out?” His voice was sharp, but beneath it was that edge of concern he couldn’t quite hide.
“You could’ve let Garrett or whatever his name is figure it out,” I pointed out, crossing my arms. “Or, you know, I could have gotten my bag myself.”
“Garrett wouldn’t have punched someone in the face for you,” he said, too casually, as if it didn’t send a shiver down my spine.
“You… remember?” I asked.
His eyes flickered to mine. “How could I not?”
My heart tripped. I hated that it did. I hated how easily he could do that to me.
“Mr. Easton, we need you back over here!” Someone shouted from the bathroom, followed by a loud crash.
He cursed under his breath. “Fuck. This is not over. Stay here. ” He pointed at me, commanding and bossing me around again.
“Sure,” I muttered, rolling my eyes with every ounce of defiance I could gather. We both knew damn well I wasn’t going to listen.
But he remembered.
Of course he did. A man like that probably remembers every woman he crosses paths with, not because they meant anything, but so he knows who not to sleep with again. Cold. Calculated. Typical. Who the hell was I kidding? He didn’t care about me.
I set my stuff down slowly, feeling the tug of frustration and something else I didn’t want to name twisting in my gut. My legs were a little steadier now as I stood from the chair, and my phone buzzed against my thigh. Pulling it out, it was telling me that my blood sugar was normal. Of course the one day I forget to eat is the day Connor-freaking-Easton reappears like a glitch in my system.
I drank the last of my water, wiped the sweat from my temple, and tossed my bottle and wrappers in the trash. I was halfway through the salad when I heard a grunt in front of me.
That sound. Familiar. Low. Dangerous.
Fuck.
I froze, napkin still in hand, my heart climbing its way up my throat. Slowly, like I had all the time in the world, I wiped my mouth and lifted my gaze.
And there he was. Again. Those stormy eyes. That expression that saw right through me. Like he knew.
I knew I was blushing. I couldn’t decide if it was because this man just saw me shoving food into my face or if it was because it was Connor fucking Easton. This was far from the first time I’d caught myself flustered in his presence. But it still felt like my stomach did a little flip whenever he looked at me like that.
“Do you feel better?” he asked.
“Yes. Thanks,” I muttered.
“You should go home.”
“I have a couple of things to look at before I leave.” I huffed, not ready to admit how much I just wanted to run away and hide from embarrassment.
“So much attitude in such a small body,” he smirked.
“What?” I blinked.
“Nothing.” He waved a hand dismissively.
And like that, he was walking away, back to his usual silent, brooding self. It was like a switch flipped, and all of a sudden we were back to the same place we started at. He’d go cold, and I’d let the silence suffocate whatever connection we had.
Trying to push that thought out of my head, I collected my contract and made my way around the house, making sure everything was in order. The deadline was coming up, but I had to admit Connor ran a hell of a company. His people worked together flawlessly, and if things kept going this smoothly, we could finish the project ahead of time. It was impressive.
I checked off the last of my tasks and grabbed my things, heading toward my car. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, my gaze lifting to the sky. The warmth of the sun felt like a gift after what had felt like a never-ending winter. The weather had been cold for too long, and one warm day was all it took to make me fantasize about being on a beach somewhere with a margarita in hand.
Then, of course, Connor’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
I turned to find him standing there, watching me intently. “You hardly talk to me for weeks, and now you want to have a conversation?” I couldn’t help the sarcasm in my voice or the way my heart was beating faster at the thought of him being this close again.
“Excuse me?”
I crossed my arms, trying to keep my cool. “Are you like this all the time, or am I just special?”
His lips twitched, and I could see a flicker of amusement behind his usually stoic expression. “Everything is in order on the build, is it not?”
“Well, yes,” I nodded, “but-”
“Then what do I need to talk to you about?” He gave a casual shrug, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Both ends are solid.”
I rolled my eyes, frustration bubbling up inside me. “So you only like to talk to me when you can take care of me?”
“What are you trying to get out of this, Miss Flynn?” His voice was calm, but I knew there was something else there.
“Forget it.” I exhaled.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me just as confused as the first night I met him. But my stupid mouth couldn’t let it go. “Why did you punch him?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Connor stopped mid-step, his body tensing. “What?” His voice had dropped an octave, his eyes all over me as he turned.
“Why did you hit him?” I repeated.
He shrugged, looking away for a moment. “He deserved it.”
I nodded slowly. Blake did deserve it. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, don’t mention it.”
There was a pause, the air between us thick with whatever we left unsaid. “Okay, um, I guess I should go,”
“Did you finish your salad?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes,” I answered.
“I want you to take care of yourself.” There was something about the way he said it that made my chest tighten. I could feel the weight of his concern, his care , and it made me question everything I’d been trying to ignore for so long.
“I am,” I responded.
“Yeah, good,” he nodded, as if he was done with the conversation.
I cleared my throat, trying to break the awkward silence. “Is there anything else you needed, Mr. Easton?”
“Call me Connor.” The words were gentle, but the way he looked at me made my pulse skip.
“Connor,” I repeated, correcting myself. We were standing so close now, and I couldn’t help but notice the height difference between us. He was towering over me, and for a moment, my eyes wandered, catching on the scar on his cheek and the way his short beard seemed to catch the light. I swallowed hard, trying to push the image of him kissing me out of my mind, of the way that beard would feel between my thighs.
“I’m going to go.” I rushed out, trying to get away from him as fast as I could. I gave him a small, awkward wave like an idiot and started to open my car door. But before I could sit down, Connor’s hand shot out, stopping me. His body leaned in, a faint smile on his lips.
“Can I take you out for dinner tonight?”
I swear at that moment, I couldn’t breathe. My heart skipped a beat, and I found myself nodding before I even processed what was happening. “You… want to go out with me?” I asked, still unsure if I heard him right.
He chuckled, the sound warm and teasing. “Yeah, I do. Is that a problem?”
I felt my cheeks burn with a sudden rush of warmth. “No,” I swallowed.
“Good. You should have my number in your files,” he smirked. “Let me know the time and place.”
Before I could say anything else, he was already turning away, walking back toward the house. And I stood there, stunned, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.
* * *
I drove home in a blur, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts I couldn’t make sense of. The familiar streets blurred by, but I wasn’t really paying attention to them. My thoughts were tangled up in everything that had just happened. Connor fucking Easton asked me out. Of all people. The man who couldn’t look me in the eye most of the time, and when he did, he always seemed to be holding something back.
I pulled into my parking spot and sat there for a few seconds, hands still gripping the wheel. What the hell just happened? He’d barely spoken to me in weeks, acting like I was invisible half the time, and then today of all days he asked me out? And what was I supposed to make of that? Pity?
I let out a frustrated sigh, pushing open the door of my car. The evening air hit me like a slap to the face, and I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. This wasn’t some movie where things magically fell into place. This was Connor Easton, the man who was both maddening and intoxicating in equal measure. One minute, he wants to take care of me, like some kind of protective hero, making sure I’m okay, and then the next minute, he acts like I’m a damn inconvenience.
I walked up the stairs to my little condo and unlocked the door. The place was small, nothing special, but it was mine. I’d worked damn hard for it. Every inch of this space had been paid for by myself, and that gave me a sense of pride I couldn’t explain. It was mine, and that’s what mattered.
I dropped my keys onto the end table by the door, and the weight of the day finally seemed to hit me all at once. My mind was a mess, and I was exhausted. But no matter how tired I felt, I couldn’t stop replaying the day in my head. Him leaning in, his hand stopping my car door from closing, the way his voice had been low and intense when he asked me to dinner. Almost like he wasn’t asking me but telling me.
Sighing to myself, I kicked off my shoes and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge absentmindedly but not really sure what I was looking for. I grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and took a long sip. What the hell am I going to wear? What do you wear to a pity date with one of the hottest guys you’d ever met? Because that’s what this felt like. A pity date. He’d probably felt bad for me, or something.
I sucked in a breath, shaking my head. There was no way it could be anything else. He was complicated. Too complicated. The last thing I needed right now was to get wrapped up in something I couldn’t figure out. And yet, my heart seemed to have other ideas. It was beating faster at the thought of him. At the thought of getting him into my bed.
Running a hand through my hair, I didn’t even have time for this. I had a million other things to focus on. The project, my career, keeping everything together… So why the hell was I allowing Connor Easton to get under my skin? Was I really so desperate for attention that I was willing to put myself through this? Well, yes. Yes, I was, because the next thing I was doing was grabbing my phone from my back pocket.