5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
O n the drive home, Jorie couldn't shake the feeling that she was being followed. She glanced in the rearview mirror again, but with the oncoming lane clear, she made a snap decision and turned left without signaling. When the truck two cars back kept going straight, she breathed a sigh of relief. Lordy, she was obviously losing her good sense.
Honestly, she had no idea what the hell she was thinking. This invitation to spend social time with the guys and her bosses was driving her crazy.
She’d managed to resist past invitations to hang out with the guys, but it wasn’t that she didn’t want to join them. As the newest coworker and the only woman, she didn’t want to risk any misconstrued expectations or unnecessary tension at work. She would have made another excuse, but then she made the mistake of locking eyes with Ezra.
There was a glint in his gaze… She couldn’t quite place it—a dare? A challenge? Weren’t they the same thing? A dare seemed playful, while a challenge turned whatever this was into a competition.
From what she’d overheard, ever since his ex-girlfriend left, Ezra didn’t play games.
Jorie knew, instinctively, that if Ezra did decide to play, it would only be because it was advantageous to him. And she doubted Ezra ever lost.
So, where did that leave her? The answer was painfully simple. She didn’t stand a chance. If Ezra won, she’d lose. He had more experience, and as her boss, he held all the cards.
Jorie's best strategy would be to decline the invitation again, but when Ezra raised an eyebrow and tilted his chin—nonverbally ordering her to move—her breath caught in her throat, and heat spread across her cheeks. She succumbed to his authority. Hurriedly, she made her way toward the employee entrance to escape the weight of his watchful gaze, a gaze that both unsettled and thrilled her.
She wasn’t sure if men stressed about how they behaved around each other, in and out of work, but she sure did. At the same time, she couldn’t stop worrying about what the heck she was going to do with her damned hair. Aaron hadn’t given her enough time to wash, dry, and style it.
As she waited to turn into the driveway, she noticed a dark vehicle, similar to the one she thought had been tailing her earlier, approaching from the other lane. It slowed, then passed by without incident.
“Way to freak out, Jorie,” she muttered to herself.
A lot of people drove black 4x4s with tinted windows. Ezra did. And since this was his driveway, he would’ve turned in if it had been him. Actually, if he’d been behind her earlier, he’d have beaten her home. As she pulled into the driveway and parked, she saw that Ezra’s truck was nowhere to be seen, but Aaron’s was parked in front of the garage. Ezra could’ve already pulled his truck inside. Lordy, now she was definitely overthinking things. She shook her head. She was definitely a can or two shy of a six-pack, as her dad always said.
Pushing aside the vehicle and her paranoia, Jorie rushed up the stairs to her apartment, slamming the door behind her. She stripped, leaving a trail of work clothes as she hurried into the bathroom. She shivered as she turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up.
There was no way she was getting into a cold shower. Been there, done that, and had the bruises—when she bolted right back out —to prove it. She didn’t care if she was late or not; a hot shower was a must. While she waited, she pinned her braids up on top of her head and plugged in the automatic curling wand. After the quickest shower she’d ever taken, she finished toweling off and rushed into her bedroom, only to stop in front of the closet.
What to wear? Jorie rifled through her clothes, tossing one sweater after another onto the bed. This wasn’t a date, she reminded herself. But did she listen? No. No, she did not. She wished she had time to call Jolie. Her sister was always the epitome of calm and collected, while Jorie felt anything but.
Except Jorie hadn’t told Jolie, the closest person to her in the whole world, about the crush she had on Ezra. There, she admitted it. The reason she was acting so stupid was because she was crushing hard on her boss.
When Jolie arrived next week, she’d take one look at Jorie and, if she didn’t already suspect, know something was going on. Not much got past her twin, even with twenty-five hundred miles between them. Jorie would eventually have to confess, but for now, she needed to get ready for her not-a-date—and she’d better hurry.
Jorie grabbed a creamy satin bra and panty set that looked great with the remnants of her summer tan—not because this was a date—but simply because it was on top of the pile in her dresser drawer. She kept up the denial as she slipped the underwear on. Yeah, she wouldn’t believe it either, but that was her story, and she was sticking to it. She nodded decisively.
To make up for that tiny fib, she grabbed thick socks and the worn, flannel-lined jeans she’d found at a thrift store across from the hotel she’d stayed at when stopping for the night in Rapid City on her way to her new life. Nothing date-like about them. Nope, those clothes were chosen purely for warmth and comfort. She couldn’t help it if the jeans molded to her skin, making her skinny ass look more curvaceous than it actually was.
Jorie didn’t even check which sweater she grabbed off the bed before pulling it on. Oh, okay, she did check. It was the burnt orange and turquoise one that came with a matching ponytail cap and fleece-lined mittens. She’d spent way too much money on the set—and then another one for Jolie—just because Felicity at Wintervale’s Country Store had gushed about how the colors made Jorie’s eyes pop when she tried it on.
Rushing back into the bathroom, Jorie took down her hair and shook out the braids. Using the curling iron, she added soft curls to her already wavy strands and gathered her hair into a ponytail, pulling it through the hole in her stocking cap. She swiped on some eyeliner, mascara, and tinted lip balm, then decided that was good enough.
She’d just finished pulling on a warm pair of fashionable winter boots when she heard the rumble of a truck below. Snagging a thinner but thermal jacket that magically reflected body heat, she pulled it on. She checked her cash situation in her crossbody wallet, looped it over her head, grabbed her mittens, and dashed out the door. She tripped down the stairs in her haste to avoid keeping the Curtis brothers waiting—for this not-a-date. Sheesh.
When she hit the cement at the bottom, Aaron laid on the horn. Jorie screamed, clutching her chest. She could hear Aaron laughing like a hyena over the rumble of the engine. Lordy, if this was what having brothers was like, she was happy she didn’t have any. Flipping him the bird, she shot him a stink-eye as she rounded the hood of the truck, making sure he wouldn’t do it again. Once again, she skidded to a stop and nearly fell on her ass.
Good Lord almighty. There was Ezra, stalking toward her—surefooted and silent as a wraith.
Jorie’s mouth went dry as all the moisture in her body ended up in a much more intimate place further south. Her pulse quickened as her brain and body slid straight into the E-zone. There was no passing go. No collecting $200, and not a single prayer of finding a Get Out of Jail Free card in sight. Day-amn.
Peripherally, she noticed a camel-colored shearling coat dangling from one brawny fist, but what really held her attention was the muted plaid flannel stretching across his chest and abs as he twisted, shoving a wallet hooked to a chain into the back pocket of a pair of dark-wash jeans. Jeans that fit him better than latex gloves. Lordy, did she mention the man was fine?
“Uh, hi,” she whispered as he stopped just inches in front of her. Her breath caught when he reached for her…and opened the passenger door.
“Get in,” he growled, jerking his chin toward the interior.
Oh, shit. Of course. Hello, Mr. Gorgeous, meet Ms. Awkward Twit. Thoroughly embarrassed, Jorie grabbed hold of the truck door and swung it open. The truck was jacked, and there was no step bar to help her up. She latched onto the back seat’s handle. Raising one leg, she hopped on the other foot, trying to jump in. Instead, she nearly launched herself straight through the cab and out the other side when Ezra’s big hand settled on her backside, giving her the lift her shorter legs needed.
Jorie bit back a whimper of pleasure as his palm unleashed a jolt of heat, and she scrambled onto the back seat. She couldn’t, however, stop the moan that slipped from her lips when she felt his fingers slide along the center seam of her jeans, pressing into the crease as his grip tightened on her ass.
Lordy, the man was driving her insane.