12. Taylor
Taylor
“Give me a break, asshole.” I storm into the cabin. “It’s literally three fricking lightbulbs.”
I dump the small box on a table near the window. It’s official. I can’t stand Roman. I’ve been here for almost two weeks, and I’m convinced he can’t stand me, either. The difference is that I’m not going out of my way to show it. Roman makes it his duty to wear a hostile look whenever I’m around.
Fine by me. I don’t care if he likes me. What he’s not going to do is bust my balls for making a minor mistake—
“What did you say?”
My body flinches. I glance over my shoulder. Roman stands in the doorway, glaring at me. For someone his size and with those large boots, I don’t understand how he moves so quietly. “Nothing.”
“Thought so.”
Biting my tongue, I pull the metal ladder under the ceiling socket. I climb on the first rung, then step back down. Roman is already into the hallway when I yell, “What is your problem?”
He turns around, pinning me with a look so sharp it feels like a physical force. Something cold and unyielding settles in his eyes, smothering my boldness. “My problem with what?”
“Me.” I fold my arms across my chest, determined not to show how intimidated I am. “I understand that we got off on the wrong foot, but I’ve been willingly helping around here. Yet, you’re still giving me a hard time.”
“Those lightbulbs are difficult to source, Taylor. You broke three of them. How else did you expect me to react?”
“I apologized. Four times,” I reply. “It went over your head. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re determined to keep hating me—“
“I don’t hate you.” Yet his expression is giving ‘I wish I could’.
“If you say so. The thing is, your actions speak louder than those words ever could.”
His jawline hardens. He makes a frustrated sweep of his hand through his hair. After what seems like ages, he mutters, “I don’t hate you. It’s just that you remind me of your father. Your condescending behavior reminds me that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“I’m nothing like him.” It pisses me off that people keep comparing us. Lucas Van Houten is a piece of shit who robbed his clients of millions. I’ve never committed a crime in my entire life.
“You’re not?” Roman assesses me with a hard stare that leaves me with an overwhelming urge to fidget. “Then explain why you left a life of luxury for a place like this.”
If Mom hadn’t told him about Noel, it meant she didn’t trust him with the information. Good. “It’s none of your business.”
A flicker of annoyance crosses his face, but he nods, then turns to go.
“What really happened between you and Dad?” I ask.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.” He turns back. “Sounds juvenile, doesn’t it?”
“My reason for leaving San Francisco is a personal one.”
“So is my reason for hating your father.”
Annoyance flutters in my chest. Up to a month ago, I didn’t know my father had a stepbrother.
Mom told me they had a feud a few years before I was born.
Dad did something terrible to him. That was all she wanted to reveal.
She said it was Roman’s story to tell, not hers.
At first, the details of their fallout weren’t important, since it happened over two decades ago.
But now his anger lights a spark of curiosity inside me.
“Did he take Mom away from you?”
Roman scoffs. “He didn’t.”
Which earns him a snicker. “Mhm. A man like you wouldn’t admit that, anyway.”
Roman’s jawline clenches so tight I’m concerned he might crack a tooth. “A man like me?”
“Yes. You’re too prideful to admit that someone stole your woman.”
“My woman—“ He shakes his head, an incredulous look on his face. I expect him to turn around and leave, but he says, “This is not about your mother or any other woman. Your father is the reason my business is struggling.”
My eyebrows shoot up. All this time, I assumed Roman was a terrible business owner. “What did he do?”
He scrubs his face and lets out a hefty sigh.
“I had ten acres of land a few miles from here, and I’d made plans to plant a vineyard, an additional source of income.
However, Lucas approached me on behalf of his client, who wanted property for a solar farm.
The offer was attractive. Plus, it was Lucas.
Back then, I would’ve done anything for him.
Huge mistake. Not only did he fleece me out of half the payment for that land, but it also turned out his client wasn’t starting a solar farm. He built a resort.”
I can already see where this is going.
“It was larger and had more attractive features than mine. Everyone wanted to stay there. The only bookings I received were the leftovers. Over time, it took a toll on my business.”
He sighs, glancing toward the window, and I assume he’s staring at the property. “Now, I’m in the red.”
“Damn... I’m sorry.” Now I understand why he’s always so pissed off. My father is a traitorous piece of shit. Mom had cut all ties and relocated to San Francisco when the scandal broke, and I’m even more convinced it was the best decision she’d made.
Roman waves off my apology. “You have nothing to feel sorry for. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to save.”
“I want to help.”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Roman has already stepped into the hallway.
Slowly, he turns around. For a second, I’m not standing in this dusty cabin surrounded by paint cans and replacement bulbs.
I’m back in my bedroom, naked, back to when he stepped through that door.
The memory flashes through me with uncomfortable clarity.
His eyes are the same now, dark and intense. He closes the gap between us. I wet my completely dry lips. “You want to help?” His voice is barely above a whisper, rough like sandpaper.
I swallow. “Yeah.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. Then he breaks eye contact, shattering the spell and shifting past me. As I turn around, he grabs the box of bulbs from the table and presses it into my arms. His expression turns granite. “Don’t break my goddamn bulbs, understand?”
The words land with enough force to leave a sting. Before I can respond, he stomps past me. Three long strides carry him to the door, and he slams it behind him hard enough to rattle the frame. I stand in silence, gaping, confusion twisting my stomach.
Because I’m not sure what concerns me more: my step-uncle being attracted to me or what I’m starting to feel for him.