Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“And I don’t want you staying here over the weekend.”
She stands there in silence, rage pluming off her like smoke.
Her anger isn’t enough though. I want to make sure she’s taken my words to heart. I want her assurance that she’s going to obey me. For once.
I step closer. “Have I made myself clear?”
She whips the hard hat off her head and shoves it against my chest.
“Yes sir.”
It’s no surprise that Taylor avoids me the rest of the day yet still manages to complete her work with unfailing accuracy. She’s not in the cabin by the time I’m getting ready to leave for Austin, and I get a wild idea that maybe I shouldn’t leave. Maybe I should stay and ensure she follows my orders, but I have no choice. I need to get back to Lockwood’s main office for a meeting I have in the morning with a prospective client. My partners have made it clear that I need to be present since I’m one of the main draws for them.
So, I’ll just have to assume Taylor is complying with my command and leaving for the weekend. In fact, I should be focusing my attention elsewhere during the long drive home, and yet when I pull into my driveway and walk into my quiet house, I’m still thinking of her and wondering if I’ve been too hard, too unyielding where she’s concerned.
I haven’t ever been so heavy-handed with an employee before, but to call Taylor just an employee is a gross understatement. The fact is, I’ve never lived with an employee, which is the only explanation for why it feels like she’s started to entwine herself so deeply in my life.
I’ve never thought of my house as being quiet before tonight. I’ve always loved it here. I purchased the 1960s bungalow a few years ago, back when you could still afford to buy property in Austin without breaking the bank. It’s centrally located near downtown without being in the thick of it, the lot oversized and shaded with three sprawling live oak trees. The house itself needed a lot of work. I had Steven draw up the plans for the renovation and I oversaw it slowly, painstakingly, ensuring the historical details weren’t wiped clean by the new, modern updates.
Compared to the cabin I’ve been living in, it might as well be a palatial mansion.
I wonder what Taylor would think of it, and then I yank that thought right out of my head and reach for my phone.
It’s late and I have that meeting in the morning, but I can’t just stay here. I know if I try to go to bed now, I’ll just lie awake, thinking of her and the details of a week that seemed equal parts infuriating and addicting.
Isla texted me earlier that our friends were all heading over to Easy Tiger, so that’s where I go after I rinse off and throw on a clean set of clothes. It feels good to walk into the bar and see my friends all crammed together in a booth, raising hell. When Brody sees me, he throws up his hands and they all turn, faces lighting up.
“Didn’t think you’d show,” he says, grabbing an extra chair from another table for me.
I take a seat, holding up a hand for the waiter. “Yeah, it’s been a long week. I need a beer.”
Jace and Alice are there too, nearly fused at the hip just as Isla forewarned they would be. Beside them, there’s Brody and Liv, who’ve been married for the last few years. Isla sits opposite them, and beside her is Camille, a coworker of Liv’s and a new addition to the group.
It’s funny seeing her beside Isla. The two couldn’t be more different. My sister has a row of freckles across her nose, shoulder-length brown hair, and an affinity for wearing clothes that should make absolutely no sense yet somehow blend together pretty well. Right now, she’s wearing a pair of denim overalls over a white blouse with a little silk scarf tied around her neck. Her brown eyes—a pair that match my own—shine with happiness. Any ill will I felt toward her for chatting with Taylor doesn’t stand a chance.
Camille, by contrast, is wearing a tight black top. Her black hair is long and straight, her bee-stung lips coated in a layer of red lipstick so bright there’s not a guy in this bar who hasn’t noticed them. Her eyes are what I notice most, though—they’re clever, shrewd. She and Liv both work at a law firm downtown and Liv has boasted before that Camille rarely loses a case.
“Glad you showed up,” she says with a flirtatious smile.
Isla catches my attention and barely contains her laughter. That’s my sister—her smile seems to always take up every square inch of her face, even now when she’s not so subtly laughing at Camille.