Cocky Prince

by Jules Barnard

  “I can’t watch,” I murmur, and move into the living room.

  I take a seat on the couch cross-legged, and flinch every time Adam bangs at my wall. He was right. This is a big project. What was I thinking?

  I know what I was thinking. I wanted to punish him. Except I’m the one who will be punished when my “walk-in” comes out misshapen and nonfunctional.

  It’s my fault. I was prideful about work. Granted, I was right about Bridget. But still, why did I make a bet with Adam? Nothing good comes from gambling with a man who makes you mad with frustration one moment, and mad with lust the next.

  After an hour of banging and ripping sounds fill my house, Adam calls me into the bedroom. And he has a power saw in his hand, tarps draped over the floor and other surfaces.

  “What’s that for?” My voice is high-pitched.

  He raps his knuckles on the wood paneling. “Need a hole where the new closet will go. I’ve measured it out, but I just wanted to make sure it’s a standard door you’re putting in before I cut.”

  “Don’t you dare cut up my walls.”

  He lowers the saw. “Hayden, how do you expect to have a walk-in closet without an opening you can walk through? You said you wanted an entrance directly into the bedroom.”

  I throw up my hands. “I don’t know. But these are my pretty walls.” I walk over and pet the wood. “What if you ruin them?”

  He sighs. “Do you trust me?”

  “Hell no. You’re a pretty boy who shouldn’t be holding power tools.”

  He shakes his head and steps forward, lifting my chin with the tip of one lightly callused finger that has no right being callused, according to my stereotype. “You really think that of me?” His eyes are intent. He’s forcing me to admit what I’ve never allowed myself to.

  Somewhere along the way I stopped viewing Adam as a spoiled little rich boy. He’s a hard worker, whom I respect more than I like to acknowledge. He challenges me. But more important, Adam has always treated me like an equal. He’s not one of the Neanderthals we work with. And I suspect there’s even a sensitive side to him.

  “No, I don’t think that of you,” I finally say.

  He drops his hand, only to reach for my palm and twine our fingers. My heartbeat ratchets up a notch. He tucks our clasped hands against my belly and steps forward, pushing until I’m forced to take a step back. And another, until I’m in the hall.

  He slides his fingers from mine, sending zingers of electricity up my arm, and looks at me pointedly. “Stay here, where it’s safe.”

  Adam moves in front of the paneled wall, lowers protective glasses from the top of his head, and fires up the saw.

  I cover my ears as he makes the first cut, and run for cover in the living room.

  Shockingly, I do trust Adam to work on my house, which says a lot, because I put my entire savings into buying this place from my parents.

  Hours pass as I try to work while not flinching every time Adam makes a loud sound. Finally, he enters the living room, carrying his toolbox.

  I swing my legs off the couch and stand. “Everything okay?” I peer around him toward the hallway. “That was fast. Is it all done?”

  He tucks a measuring tape in his back pocket. “Not even close. I’ll return tomorrow. A little later than today, probably—around one. I have some things to take care of for work. I’ll be by after that.” He rubs his chin, leaving a hint of dirt behind that matches the faint dark lines beneath his eyes.

  “Work on a Sunday?” I say.

  He glances at my laptop and raises his eyebrow.

  “Right. I guess the casino never shuts down, does it?”

  “No,” he says.

  I hesitate for a moment. Part of me wonders why he looks so tired, with those dark shadows under his eyes, and the other part of me is eager as hell to find out what he’s doing for Blue on a Sunday. “And you’ve been busy with…?”

  He gives me a knowing smile. I guess my fishing efforts are obvious. “Stuff,” he says.

  “Right, stuff.” Because even if I won our bet, Adam won’t fill me in on what he’s up to.

  I walk him to the door, guilt overtaking my desire to keep him here as my work slave, though the view would be amazing if I did. “Thank you for the closet. I know I asked a lot. We can call it even.”

  He glances back skeptically. “With a hole in your wall and your shoe collection homeless? You might change your tune once you take a look back there.”

  Awesome. Now I am worried, but I still feel like I’ve taken advantage of him. “I can hire someone. You’ve done the demo. That counts for something.”

  “Still don’t trust me?” A small smile spreads across his face, but there’s hurt behind his eyes.

  “No, that’s not it,” I say quickly. God, why is he making this so difficult? “I’m trying to admit that it was ridiculous of me to ask you to build a closet in the first place.”

  “I don’t mind.” He turns and strides toward his truck. “I like working with my hands.”

  And that’s the biggest shocker of all. Adam isn’t as polished and uptight as I thought. He’s rather handy to have around.

  Or maybe it’s not so shocking.

  Because there’s a chance I never really knew Adam.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Adam

  Had I known Hayden intended for me to build a closet, I would have gone to Lewis’s house to grab equipment instead of Jaeg’s. Lewis is the contractor in the group. Jaeg is just the artsy woodworker. I demoed what I could yesterday, took measurements, and picked up drywall and wood for framing. But today I’m talking to a professional before I hack something up.

  “Lewis, it’s Adam. You got a minute?” I say, as I lace up my work boots.

  I ask Lewis a few questions to make sure I’m building Hayden’s closet correctly. Jaeg and I helped Lewis build his house a few years ago. That’s how I learned about construction. I know the basics, but it can’t hurt to make sure I’m doing things right.

  He gives me tips on closing off the hallway, and it’s toward the end of the conversation that I remember something. “Before we get off the line, I’ve been wanting to ask you about the remodel of Blue’s penthouse suites. I was up there the other day and noticed a different company in charge. Why aren’t your guys doing the work? I thought Sallee Construction filled most of Blue’s bids.”

  “Good question,” he says. “We have an informal agreement with Blue, but they claimed that even with the discount we give them, they’d found a better price. It’s the first time that’s happened.”

  “So your company wasn’t too busy?”

  “We’re always busy, but we’ve got a backup crew for larger projects like Blue. Our schedule was never the problem. Why, is that what they said?”

  “Something like that. You think this has anything to do with the manager who attacked Gen?” I wasn’t there, but I heard it took Jaeg and Zach all night to convince Lewis not to kill the guy. “If you’re not holding what Drake Peterson did against the casino, I don’t see why Blackwell would have an issue with continuing the working relationship.”

  “Who knows why your CEO does anything?” Lewis says. “But I can tell you one thing—Gen’s dad, Jeb Kendrick, didn’t stop looking into Blue Casino just because Drake Peterson was convicted. From what I hear, neither has your favorite girl.”

  “Hayden?” Yeah, I caught what Lewis said about Hayden being my favorite girl, but shit, it’s the truth. And I want to know what Lewis means more than I’m interested in defending myself.

  “Hayden’s looking for anything else to take to the police,” Lewis says. “If she finds something, Jeb’s men will be all over it. He’s working with the police and private investigators.”

  No wonder Hayden’s been so nosy. “Shit, Lewis, Hayden’s been all up my ass about Blue. You guys need to keep her out of it.”

  Lewis chuckles. “Nice try. You think I have any say in these things?”

  “Good point,” I say g
rudgingly. “You called Gen’s dad Jeb Kendrick. He isn’t the ex-football star?”

  “The one and only. And he’s connected.”

  Paul and William are shifty jackasses, but they aren’t Drake Peterson. Although, considering the drugs and prostitutes Paul had delivered to my home and the way he’s been throwing threats around, maybe it’s time I took this seriously. “You think I can get Jeb’s number? Just in case.”

  Lewis gives me the number for Gen’s dad, and we sign off. I set the phone on the edge of the bed, and lean forward with my arms on my knees. Why wouldn’t Blue use Sallee Construction for Bliss? It’s strange, but I’m not jumping to conclusions just yet.

  Of course Hayden wouldn’t be able to walk away from putting bad guys behind bars. Because of what? A hunch? I shake my head. I don’t even want to consider how I’m going to keep her away from Paul and William, and I guess Blackwell, since he’s in charge, but I need to. I’m not ready to convict Blue Casino—not when the place is my livelihood—but I don’t like the way Paul has put the heat on me and threatened to come after me if I say anything about Bliss. I’ve got a bad feeling about it, and I don’t want Hayden anywhere near that shit.

  I check my work emails one last time. Paul sent a message about the Bliss rollout. We have enough bodyguards now, and he’s got a backup plan for the dancers, so I can stop hiring. Everything is on schedule for the weekend of the auction and burlesque show.

  I shut down my laptop and sweep a hand through my hair, attempting to tame it. I showered hours ago when I started working from home, but combing and shaving aren’t on the weekend agenda. It’s Sunday, and I’ve only managed a few hours of sleep these last few nights. I’m running on fumes; bad hair is par for the course.

  After I took care of errands for Hayden’s closet yesterday afternoon, I went in to work and stayed until early morning, filling out paperwork the way I have the last couple of nights. There’s no logical reason why I should pay off my debt to Hayden this weekend on top of everything else. It’s shitty timing, and I’m sure Hayden would agree to wait a week or two. But I don’t want to wait. Spending time with her is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I haven’t decided if it’s because I’m working on something outside of Blue, which clears my head, or if it’s her. Pretty sure I don’t want the answer to that. Not when I can’t even refute Lewis’s remark about her being my favorite girl.

  I grab my keys, and head out to the Chevy I bought from the Club Tahoe groundskeeper ten years ago. My brothers and I use it to haul things around town. The beast is an eyesore, but it comes in handy and I can’t bring myself to replace it.

  What seems like seconds later, I pull up to Hayden’s place and cut the engine. The hour may indicate early afternoon, but my ass is dragging. I stretch my neck and climb out, taking a deep breath of pine-scented air. The fresh air clears a few of the cobwebs, and I reach inside the cab for the extra items I brought today.

  Hayden’s house is small, but every freaking inch of it is charming, from the Z-framed front door and window boxes, to her girly purple bedroom. It’s nothing like the home I grew up in, or even the house I’m renting now. Yet it’s ten times more comfortable than anyplace I’ve lived.

  I rap twice on the door. After a moment—no crashing sounds this time—Hayden answers. She’s in blue jeans and a T-shirt that hugs her curves, her hair in another ponytail.

  My heart does an extra beat. There’s something about seeing Hayden outside of work that gets my blood pumping. She gets it pumping at work too, but outside of Blue, the restraints are off. I love seeing this casual side of her.

  A sandy blond wisp dangles over her cheek from the tawny bangs she’s swept off to the side. “More stuff?” She eyes the buckets and other equipment I’m carrying.

  “And more where this came from.” I set the items on the porch and trudge back to the truck, where I grab a large sheet of drywall. Propping it against my shoulder and head, I carry it into the house and lean it against the unused portion of the hallway. “This okay?”

  Hayden nods, eyeing the sheet warily.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m only using a portion of this. Drywall comes in one size from the home improvement store. I had to buy the whole thing.”

  Fortunately, Hayden’s hallway doesn’t have the wood paneling her bedroom and living room do. I only need drywall to close it off, some tape, and matching Spackle and paint.

  “I’m so paying you back for the supplies, and for your work if you’ll let me,” she says.

  I wave her off. Like I need her money. Yeah, I lost the bet, but I’m doing this because I want to, plain and simple.

  Hayden hands me a Pacifico, which I gladly accept, and sits cross-legged on the floor, watching me while I settle in to patch up the giant hole that was the hall closet. Stealthily, I glance over. She never fails to grab my eye at work, but without makeup and her hair down—or, rather, up—I can hardly keep my eyes off her. She looks like the girl she was—the one I couldn’t stop tracking during high school.

  I kept my distance from Hayden at work this last week because I was busy with interviews, but that’s not the only reason. I’d been a hairsbreadth away from kissing her after I caught her snooping in the facility manager’s office. I don’t know what came over me. I blame it on exhaustion. And abstinence. And Hayden. She rubs me in a way that unleashes my most basic instincts—those of the covet and copulate variety. But other instincts as well—to protect and care for her—and where the hell did those come from?

  I like things simple. Tame. And my emotions where Hayden is concerned aren’t the least bit tame.

  Blackwell is cutting corners to get Bliss up and running. He doesn’t need to contract out employees and bypass his own human resources department, but he is, and I haven’t figured out why. My long-hibernating protective instincts have me blocking Hayden from Bliss and those involved in it, but I’m not so altruistic. I need this venture just as much as Blackwell does. But I will be cautious from here on out. I’ll reach out to Jeb Kendrick.

  “You never finished telling me why your parents couldn’t sell this place,” I say, to get my mind off feelings for her I don’t want to consider. And how cute she looks with her chin propped on her hand.

  Her face scrunches up. “Didn’t I?”

  I take a moment to measure out the drywall and cut out the pieces, nailing them in place. “You said no one would buy the house,” I continue. “You thought it was because of the rumor.”

  “It was.” She leans back and stretches out her shapely legs. “People weren’t interested in paying money to the family of the girl who seduced their favorite teacher and drove him out of town.”

  Knee to the floor, seam tape in my palm, my hands go still. It’s just so damn infuriating how judgmental and cruel people can be. “I didn’t realize things spread that far into the community. You sure the house didn’t sell because of the economy?”

  She shakes her head, the soft swell of her cheek turned down as she carefully peels the label from her beer bottle. “The schools were the root of the problem, but once the rumor spread, it spread everywhere.”

  I’d heard the rumor—everyone did—but I’ve never heard Hayden’s side. “What happened?”

  She picks up a piece of red string from the floor and twists it between her thumb and forefinger, reminding me of the pine needle she played with during the bonfire at Zach and Nessa’s. “It was like this ripple on the lake that first day. So subtle, you know? But that ripple grew and grew. By afternoon, one girl had shoved me into a picnic table and bruised one of my ribs. I stayed home for a couple of days, just to get away from it.” She looks up. “I heard what they were saying, but I couldn’t figure out why anyone would believe something so stupid. I mean, this was me, right? I wasn’t a sexy minx.”

  I beg to differ. Hayden was a quiet, sexy nerd. She just didn’t know it.

  “Anyway.” She takes a sip of her beer and stares back at the string. “I returned to school, thinking th
e rumor had died out. But it hadn’t. It was worse. They were so angry, Adam.” Her hand drops to her lap and she closes her eyes. “The entire school, not just the students.”

  The urge to hold her overwhelms me. I give in somewhat and settle for placing my hand on her knee. “I remember. You picked the wrong teacher to start an affair with,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

  She lets out a long breath that ends on a nervous laugh. Her eyes flutter to mine, moisture and pain in their golden-brown depths. “Mr. Miller was handsome, wasn’t he?”

  It kills me to see her like this. I shrug. “If you like the tall, athletic sort.”

  Her lips soften. Not quite a smile, but it’s something. “Every girl had a crush on him. And the guys wanted to be him. Even the stoners paid attention in class, he was that inspirational. And the school made him leave because of me.” Her voice quavers.

  Fuck. Why did I bring this up? “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Everyone thought it was. God.” She wipes her eyes and lets out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe this still bothers me. It was just so humiliating. I felt powerless. And poor Mr. Miller… The only good thing that came out of it was that he didn’t get blamed. Everyone pointed the finger at me. He denied the affair, of course, and they decided not to prosecute because the only thing the police had to go on was the anonymous call that had tipped off the school. I heard Mr. Miller found a job in a different state.”

  I stare at the ground. “I’m sorry both of you went through that, and I’m especially sorry for causing you more pain at the time…after what I said to Jaeg.”

  She shakes her head. “Having my boyfriend dump me—well, I’m not going to lie, it sucked. But it wasn’t my biggest issue. The rumors were so convincing, you know? A small part of me couldn’t blame people for running with it. The person who’d tipped off the school said I’d met the teacher on campus after I got off work one day, and I had been on campus that day. The security cameras caught me there. I’d gone to grab a book I needed. No one could have known those details except—”