Chapter 6 #2
Marlowe, Cara, and two moving men were standing inside, next to a diminished pile of boxes and a small couch.
“It does say fourth floor, but the actual access to the unit is too far away,” the one guy was saying.
“I didn’t know that because I’ve never been here, I imagine that’s not totally uncommon.”
“We can bring it all here, but we’re not taking it up there. We have another house in the truck, and we have to get on the road.”
“Hang on,” Cody said, crossing his arms over his chest. Everyone in the group looked at him. “What does the agreement say?”
“The agreement says that we have to be able to accomplish this within a reasonable timeframe. The distance between the access door and her unit won’t allow us to move everything reasonably.”
“But you have time to stand here and argue about it?” Cody asked.
“Sorry, man,” the first guy said. “It’s not part of the agreement, and it’s not in our timeframe.”
The second guy shrugged, and then they both turned and began to walk toward the door.
“What’s the name of the company?” Cody asked.
“Direct Line.”
“Great. Then I’ll know where to file a complaint.”
“Okay. You do that,” guy number one said.
Cody could see that he didn’t believe Cody would do it. He’d taken one look at him, saw that he was a cowboy, figured he was a country bumpkin, and assumed that he would not sit his ass down at a computer and write complaints and reviews here, there, and everywhere. He would.
Because if Cody Grayson was one thing… Well, it was stubborn, but if he were another thing, it was petty. Jesus could save souls, forgive, and forget. Cody would save receipts and stay mad.
“Sorry,” Marlowe said, her face flushed. “I’m kind of an endless drama.”
“It’s fine,” Cara said. “It’s just that men are an endless disappointment.” She looked at Cody. “No offense.”
“Oh. None taken.” He was having a hard time taking his eyes off Marlowe. The rosy color in her cheeks might be from anger, but it made it so easy for him to imagine her flushed from a kiss or…
“You’re here,” Marlowe said, looking at him, and then she blinked and shook her head. “I mean, obviously you’re here. I just… I’m surprised.”
“Good thing,” he said. “Because otherwise the two of you would be doing all this.”
“You’re my boss,” she said.
It seemed for a moment like she had something else she wanted to add, but she let that first part sit there. Her eyes landed decidedly on his, and he felt tension in his gut. And growing desire.
“I’m sure you’re busy,” she said finally.
“Not so busy that I can’t help carry the boxes up. It’s just going to be a few elevator trips. It’s not like you have all that much.”
“Some of it is just heavy. Plates and dishes, things like that. Clothes.”
“And the whole ass couch,” he said.
“Yeah. There is that.”
Thankfully, Cara was there, and so as the three of them began to make trips from the lobby to room number 46, they had a chaperone. His skin felt like it was close to being on fire. Something about being near Marlowe.
In any other circumstance, this might’ve intrigued him.
Because what was it about her?
There was something. Something deeper than just regular old attraction, and he had a feeling that it could be combustible in the bedroom.
But, the bedroom was all he would ever have to offer – considering relationships required compromise and other things that he would never give – and a fling with an employee also fell under the header of shit his father would have loved, and therefore shit that Cody would never do.
So it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter that being near her was like taking a hit of some lethal substance. Didn’t matter that she made him feel things that he had never felt before.
Yeah. None of that mattered.
But, he had a feeling that common sense might have gone out the window at some point had it not been for Cara’s cheerful and chatty presence.
The apartment was looking good, but now he wished that he had put more into it. A cozy chair for her to sit by the window and look out at the view. The couch was fine, but wouldn’t it have been nice for her to have a cozier place to sit? Somewhere for the early morning.
If he had been outfitting it knowing that it would be for Marlowe, he might have done it all differently. Might have actually paid more personal attention to it.
He shook his head. That was some dangerous shit. And he didn’t need to be pondering any of it.
Finally, they got every last box up the stairs.
“Thank you,” Marlowe said, wiping sweat off her brow. “I know that wasn’t necessarily how you wanted to spend the day.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” he said. “Like I said. I really don’t mind.”
Their eyes clashed and held.
“Well. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“We’re going into town for dinner tonight,” Cara chirped. “Do you want to come?”
His eyes slid back to Marlowe. Did he want to come? No. He didn’t want anything to do with after-hours contact. It was a bad idea.
Even with Cara there as a buffer.
“I’ll have to pass. I’m sure my brother and sister are counting on me for dinner tonight.”
“Do you cook for them every night?” Marlowe asked.
He shook his head. “No. But if we don’t have a plan, then the plan is usually that I’m going to do something for them. Just like old times.”
He hadn’t meant to say that. There was something about Marlowe that brought out the honesty in him.
He wasn’t disingenuous, not ever, but he didn’t usually give up information about his past quite so easily.
Maybe it was because she was vulnerable, and he had felt like he needed to say something initially about how he wasn’t going to take her husband’s side.
Had wanted her to understand why he was going to do right by her when it came to the job.
But there were a few things since then that he couldn’t quite justify.
Maybe he shouldn’t waste so much time trying to do it.
Worrying too much about it would be admitting that.
“They’re lucky to have you,” she said.
Rather than prying or asking questions, which he was grateful for, because he just didn’t need to dig into all that now.
“They would probably tell you differently.” Except Walker had just spent the afternoon trying to tell him the same thing. But he didn’t need all that.
He had this place. It was getting him the closest to what he actually needed.
Which was to prove everybody wrong. To prove his dad wrong.
He had thought that he and his siblings weren’t worth anything.
But they were going to take this ranch and make it into more than his dad ever could’ve dreamed of.
Because they were more than he ever could’ve dreamed of.
“I heard that ZB is working on putting in some shelving at the bakery?”
Cara blinked. “Oh. Is that… Zane?”
“The very one.”
“He sent me a text. It was…”
“Terse?”
“Yes,” Cara said. “I was a little bit worried I was being catfished by a psychopath.”
“Not catfish, no. Maybe genuinely contacted by one. Jury’s still out on Zane.”
“Reassuring.”
“Anyway, if you want to meet up tomorrow, I’m happy to run interference on that interaction.”
“Please.”
“Okay. Tomorrow morning? And then, Marlowe, if you want to look at the cabins after that.”
Marlowe nodded slowly, and he tried to ignore the color creeping into her cheeks. “Yes. First the bakery, then the cabins.”
And when he left there, he had the strangest feeling that he had just agreed to something else entirely.