Chapter Six
Beau
“What do you mean you heard her moaning?” Knox laughs as he grabs a beer from the fridge in the barn. I think about mentioning the fact that it’s barely eight AM, but I know who I’m talking to.
“She was having this dream on the couch. I woke her up. I had to.” I leave out the part about how hard my cock was.
“Wait, maybe we go back to how she got to your house to begin with?”
I shake my head. “Catch up, man.”
“Sorry.” He shrugs as he pulls back a sip of beer. “You’re the one with the story. I’m just here with a rebuilt engine part for you on my way to work, like an honest citizen who’s not inviting employees back for sleepovers.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“You know I’m fuckin’ with you.”
“How’s the mail-order application going, honest citizen?”
He laughs. “Submitted it yesterday, so we’ll see. Have a feelin’ it’s gonna be a shit show, though. They’ve already called twice to ask why I left my type blank.”
“You have a type?”
He grins, eyes still on the bike like it might chime in. “I do, but I think writing how I’m lookin’ for a low maintenance brunette that doesn’t mind cooking, cleaning, and my obsession with vintage trucks won’t find me much.”
“You’re a mess, dude.”
“Says the guy with his young employee moaning on his couch.”
“You going to make me regret telling you?”
He laughs and takes another swig of beer. “Yeah, probably.”
Knox wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still grinning like he’s got front-row seats to my moral unraveling. “So, what’s the plan, Romeo? You gonna pretend it didn’t happen or lean into the whole forbidden-fruit fantasy?”
I glare at him, but it’s half-hearted. “There’s no plan. She needed a place to crash. That’s it.”
“Right,” he says, dragging out the word like it’s soaked in sarcasm, “and you just happened to wake her up from a dream that sounded like a damn romance novel.”
I run a hand through my hair, the barn air thick with hay and saddle oil. “It’s not like that.”
Knox raises an eyebrow. “You sure, because the way you’re acting, it sounds exactly like that. Hell, you told me you were obsessed with her out in the blind, so don’t give me that ‘she’s my employee’ crap. You want to push boundaries. If you didn’t, she wouldn’t be anywhere near your couch.”
I don’t respond… because he’s not wrong. I could’ve found her a hotel last night. I could’ve watched the door from the parking lot. I could’ve taken her to be with her brother. I’m sure she would’ve been safe there. She seems to trust him, and he’s her family.
“It’s just one night,” I say finally. “We’ll find her a new situation today.”
Knox sets his beer onto the metal workshop table with that famous judgmental look he’s so good at. “Can't wait to hear what the new plan is.”
I shake my head and smile. “Get the hell out of here.”
Knox smirks, grabbing his keys off the table with a dramatic flourish. “Yeah, yeah. Some of us still punch clocks and do an honest day’s work.”
I flip him off without looking, already turning back to the engine block.
He pauses at the door, turning back to say, “You’ve always had a hero complex, man. Just make sure you know what you’re getting into.”
I nod, but I don’t answer.
The barn door creaks open, sunlight slicing through the dust in golden streaks. Knox disappears into it, leaving me alone with the hum of silence and the weight of reality.
I can pretend I’m not attracted to Delilah. I can walk by her desk and pretend not to notice the way her hair falls onto her shoulders, or the way her full breasts rise and fall when she talks. I can pretend not to see the way her ocean blue eyes linger.
I can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for her. I can’t pretend that her passion, her empathy, and the soft way she handles people’s worst days doesn’t make me want her. I can’t pretend not to notice her strength, her perseverance, her heart.
I stare at the motorcycle engine, but all I see is her curled up on my couch, blanket pulled to her chin, eyes haunted even in sleep, and I know damn well my heart has already decided.
It wants her. I want her. And no matter how many times I tell myself to back off, to be smart, to keep my distance, wanting her feels like gravity.
And last time I checked, gravity doesn’t ask permission.