by Green, Megan
Ash has always had a little soft spot for our sister. Even when we were teens, and she’d follow us around like annoying little sisters do, Ash never had a problem with her hanging around. So, I know Benton is right. The problem isn’t how I think Ash is going to react. The problem is…
“It’s always just been the three of us, you know? What if bringing in a fourth changes the whole dynamic of the company?”
Monroe scoffs, the first sound she’s made since this whole conversation started. Benton and I both turn to look at her.
She quickly chews her food, holding her hand up in front of her mouth as she does, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Sorry,” she finally says after she swallows. “I didn’t mean to do that out loud.”
“Care to tell us what’s so funny?” I ask.
She gives me a sheepish look before turning her eyes to Benton. “It’s nothing.”
He elbows her in the ribs. “Nuh uh. You’re not getting off that easily. Spill it.”
Monroe looks back up at me, the embarrassment leaving her eyes when she sees the cocky smirk on my face. “Well, I just think what he said is bullshit,” she says, gesturing to me.
I point to myself. “Me? What I said is bullshit?”
She nods. “Yeah. You’re not worried about how bringing on Bryce will affect the business. You’re worried about how it’ll affect you.”
My mouth falls open. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Bryce is smart, and she has a hell of an eye. Even in high school, I could see that. You’re worried if she comes on, she’ll out do you. You’ll no longer be the only option, and if she has more talent, if people want to work with her instead of you, you’ll become obsolete.”
I stare at her incredulously. “That’s...that’s insane.”
Benton lets out a loud belly laugh. “Oh boy, does she have you pegged or what?”
My eyes fly to him. “You can’t honestly believe—”
“Don’t worry, bro. No matter what happens with Bryce, there will always be room for you at BrookStone. We’ll always need someone to clean the bathrooms.”
I flip him the bird and he lets out another loud laugh. Crumpling up the empty sandwich wrapper, he tosses it toward the garbage can at the end of the table, throwing his fists up in victory when it goes in.
“Swish. Anyway, thanks for lunch, bro. But Monroe and I really need to get back to work.” He stands, grabbing the rest of his trash and gesturing toward Monroe’s. When she nods, he gathers hers as well, and the two of them walk back over to where they’d been standing when I first arrived. Only this time, they get to work, moving around each other with practiced ease.
Leaving me to sit there with my cold sandwich, wondering how in the hell I’d let that get so far away from me.
Chapter Nine
Monroe
When Benton first hired me for the job at City Hall, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the situation I was walking in on. He hasn’t told me there are any issues with the business, but I can tell there’s a lot riding on the success of this remodel. And the stress of that ended up making a lot of things fall to the wayside. Like the two-hour lunches all the guys were taking. And coming in late and leaving early? Yeah, I nipped that shit in the bud on day one. At first, the guys saw me as a piece of ass and didn’t take me seriously at all. But I quickly earned their respect and now they just see me as a hard ass.
If there’s one thing I know for sure it’s that my uncle would be proud of me, wherever he’s at. Ugh. I miss him so much most days. Then again, I’ve spent most of my life missing people.
But, the long hours of the past couple of weeks—I come in an hour earlier than everyone else and I’m always the last to leave—has finally hit me and hard. I know I shouldn’t blame him, but Smith sends his kid off to that damn germ factory every day, what some people like to refer to as school. Whatever, all it’s good for is bullying and diseases. Okay, so that might be a tad dramatic, but he brought some sort of sickness with him to work and I feel like allowing myself to be dramatic.
“How did this even happen to me? I can’t afford to be sick right now,” I moan as my eyes drift toward the stain covered ceiling. I don’t even want to know how those splatter marks were made.
So gross.
Another wave of coughing comes over me and I squeeze my eyes shut. My abdomen aches as I hack my lungs onto the bed in front of me.
I don’t know what it is, but at this point, I hope it ends in death. Because whatever this is, I don’t want to feel it any longer.
My eyes burn as I attempt to pry them open. My entire body is shaking so bad, but I’m already wearing a thermal and a hoodie. Plus, I cranked the heater all the way up. In five minutes, I’ll be sweating bullets and taking a cold shower. A tingle works its way up my lungs and I moan as I roll to my side coughing harder than I thought. Every single part of me aches, but I can’t afford to go to the store for medicine. Every dime I make is being saved to get me out of this hellhole and into my own apartment.
Still lying on my side, I reach my shaking arm over to the nightstand for my phone. If I don’t tell anyone that I won’t be in today, then absolutely nothing will get done. I have to delete my text twice before I finally write down something that makes sense. Ugh, this brain fog is really messing with me.
Me: I’m really sorry to do this to you and so last minute. I won’t be there today; you have to check on the guys. They need supervision or else shit won’t get done.
Benton: Why, what’s up?
Me: I’m pretty sure I’m dying. Who knows if I’ll wake up once I fall asleep?
Resting my head against my pillow, I focus on my breathing. Who knew sending a text message would take so much out of you? My phone dings again in my hand as another message from Benton comes through. Why can’t he just leave me alone?
Benton: Shit! Are you okay? Do you need me to bring you anything? Or take you to the hospital? What’s going on?
Bring me anything? What is he going to bring me? I roll my eyes at his concern and type out a response to him.
Me: No. It’s just the plague. I’ll be fine. I sent Smith home sick yesterday and I think I caught whatever he has.
Benton: Damn, you almost gave me a heart attack. Are you sure you’re fine? I can bring you something if you need me to.
Me: Seriously, don’t worry about me. I’m just going to sleep it off. I should be back at work tomorrow.
If I don’t die first.
I don’t wait for his response and power down my phone instead. The last thing I need right now is more interruptions, I just need sleep and lots of it. The device lands with a thud on the bed next to me and I roll over. Sleep. I just need all the sleep. My eyes drift closed as everything around me fades away.
* * *
I shoot up in the bed and whimper as the pain radiates all over my body. Whatever the hell I’ve got going on is no joke, that’s for sure. It’s only nine? I’ve barely been asleep for a couple of hours, there’s no way I should have woken up. I start to question my sanity when banging starts up on my door. So that’s the culprit. Maybe if I don’t say anything, whoever is out there will go away and let me get back to sleep?
My eyes slide shut as I curl the pillow under my head. Sleep, I just need more sleep.
“Open the door, Monroe. I know you’re in there.”
Barrett?
What the hell is he doing here? I am going to kill Benton for telling his brother I’m sick. What kind of crap is that? Knowing that stubborn ass, he’ll keep knocking until I open the door. That, or he’ll go to the office and convince the manager to open the door for him. I’d rather not have an audience for my current state. I wince as I roll over, but after a few attempts, I finally get myself into a sitting position.
“Just a minute,” I yell at the door as I proceed to hack up everything inside of me. Just lovely. My lungs burn as wave after wave of pain hits me with each cough. Getting sick sucks, I definitely do
n’t plan on doing this again anytime soon.
Wrapping the comforter tight around my body, I hobble toward the door and lean against it completely out of breath. The room spins as my forehead breaks out in beads of sweat. The cool temperature of the door does little to help the fever that takes over my body. I moan out as the door vibrates as Barrett starts banging again.
“Come on—”
I don’t let him get a chance to finish whatever he was going to say when I fling the door open which completely backfires. The blanket snags underneath the door and with my vertigo, I completely lose my balance. I close my eyes and wait for the pain that will no doubt travel throughout my entire body as I crash onto the floor. The inevitable collision isn’t quite what I expected when Barrett’s arms wrap around my body preventing me from a world of pain.
“Shit! Monroe are you okay?”
When I open my eyes, there’s nothing but concern written all over his face which takes me completely off guard. I wrongly assumed he was here to yell at me for slacking on the job this early in the game, but his eyebrows are drawn together as he reaches his hand down, pushing the stray hairs out of my face. I don’t know how to feel about the way he’s looking at me, but it’s a definite first for me.
I shake my head in an attempt to clear the fogginess and ask, “What did you say?”
He has a grave expression on his face when he says, “I asked if you were okay, but clearly I have my answer.”
“No, I’m not okay. I’m dying.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re not dying.”
I might not be dying, but I definitely feel like it. I yawn and say, “I feel like death.”
Barrett looks me up and down when his focus wanders around the room.
“Why are you staying here and not at your home? Have you taken any medicine?”
My home? Now that is the real question. Not one I plan on answering anytime soon. At least not to Barrett.
Well, this is embarrassing. I struggle out of his grip or at least try to, but he just holds me even tighter. It’s probably for the best as I start to sway once I stop wiggling. Barrett takes the hint and walks me to the bed. The door shuts with an echo as I fall backward onto the bed and my heart rapidly races as my vertigo takes over. I don’t know whether it’s my illness or just being in his presence that’s causing my tiny organ to go haywire, but my body can’t handle it right now.
My breathing comes out labored as I try to calm myself down and I roll my body to its side so I can see where he’s standing near the door. “Why are you here, Barrett?”
“You’re always at work by now. I was driving by on my way to the office and I noticed your car parked out front.”
Wait.
Benton didn’t tell him I was here or that I was sick? He just knew my car and came to check on me? Not that he knew I was staying here either. Or if he did, I didn’t tell him. I have no idea what to do with that information. “Benton didn’t tell you that I was sick?”
“No. Why are you staying in this shithole? Does my brother know you’re here?”
“What difference does it make whether or not he knows where I’m staying?”
My focus falls to the bed in front of me. The situation I’m in right now isn’t the greatest and having someone like Barrett point that out to me makes me want to crawl in a hole and hide for the rest of my life. Not all of us are blessed with coming from money, at least I wasn’t.
But that doesn’t matter, and he shouldn’t be treating me this way, at least not here. This home may be temporary, but it’s all I have right now. I force myself to look up at him and I school my features. “Unless you have something else to say to me, I think you should go. I don’t need your criticism, especially not right now when I’m too sick to fight back.”
He growls and says, “He better not know that you’re here or I’ll beat the shit out of him for leaving you in this place. I can’t believe he knows you’re sick and hasn’t done anything about it.”
Why can’t he take a hint? “Barrett, where I stay and what I do is none of your business. Now why don’t you get out of here so I can go back to sleep and get over this shit so I can get back to working for you...Boss.”
“That’s it, you’re coming home with me.”
“Barrett, what are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere. I’m fine.”
Pushing myself up from the bed, I quickly stand to prove how fine I really am. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I just need him to leave so I can sleep and get better. The room spins, but I ignore it as I take a clumsy step toward him. “You need to leave. I am okay and I don’t need you here harassing me.”
The fog in my head fills and the room darkens. The last thing I hear before everything fades away is, “Monroe. Shit.”
Chapter Ten
Barrett
Well, this isn’t the way I expected my day to go.
I’d woken this morning, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed—or as much as one can be at thirty years old—and excited to start the day. Call me crazy, but there was a part of me that had been looking forward to swinging by the job site and seeing Monroe on my way to the office. Maybe I was a glutton for punishment—after all, the woman had just vandalized my car only days before—but I couldn’t deny the spark that had warmed my body when my eyes had opened, and she had been the first thing on my mind.
It had been a long ass time since a woman had caught my attention like this. Not just because of the night at the bar, but because she was everything I had never expected.
Smart, funny, quick-witted. The fact that she was sexy as fuck was just icing on the already delicious cake.
But that good mood had quickly turned to confusion as I’d driven past the shithole this town called a motel and seen her car in the parking lot.
The Park Motel was a blight on the otherwise picturesque town of Winchester. Peeling paint, missing shutters, and decaying siding only added to the overall creepy feel of the place. It looked like a place Norman Bates would happily call home, and as far as I knew, the only people who ever actually stayed there were married men looking to get a little somethin’-somethin’ on the side, and addicts.
Monroe Daniels may have given into me easily that night at the bar, but I knew that wasn’t her norm. Our time together since that night has been limited, but I could tell in just the way she carried herself, the way she spoke, that Monroe was not a woman who would be considered easy. So, the idea that she had been at The Park with a man didn’t even cross my mind. And the addict thing…
Monroe Daniels might be my own newest addiction, but she wasn’t a druggie. No way in hell was she there looking for her next fix.
Which left…
I’d pulled into the parking lot, sliding into the stall next to her car—I’d recognize that “Don’t be a cock sucker” sticker anywhere, a picture of a rooster and lollipop in place of the actual words. Considering The Park is a single level motel, and there weren’t any other cars in the immediate vicinity, I took a chance on the door directly in front of her car being hers.
I’d been right. After beating down the door for a solid minute, Monroe had finally answered.
Or at least, something that vaguely resembled Monroe.
My eyes shift over to her now, her body slumped down in the passenger seat, her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. Her eyes are closed, and even from my seat, I can see the shivers as they rack her body. Reaching into the backseat, I grab the blanket I keep on the floor in case of emergency and, with one hand on the wheel and one on the blanket, I spread it out over her as best I can.
I don’t have to touch her to know she’s burning up. After she’d passed out, I’d carried her out to my car, the heat of her body searing through all the layers of my suit. There’d been no way in hell I was leaving her there in that hellhole, especially not like this.
Fuck, whatever she had, she probably caught from that godforsaken place. I have no idea what the hell she was doing ther
e, but if I have it my way, she won’t be going back.
Which reminds me…
I grab my cell from the dash and dial my brother. The fucker sends me straight to voicemail, and I prepare to cuss him out for it until I remember he has a meeting with the city commissioner this morning. His greeting ends, and I try to leave the most civil message I can muster.
“Get your ass to my place, STAT, asswipe. Don’t make me come looking for you.”
I hang up the phone, tossing it down in one of the cup holders before glancing back over at Monroe. She’s still out cold, but she must’ve pulled the blanket farther up around her neck in her sleep, her body no longer visible beneath the heavy fabric.
She looks so...innocent. So completely at odds with the firecracker of a woman who’d stormed into my life last week.
When we reach my house, I carefully hoist her out of the car and into my arms, she stirs for a moment, her eyes fluttering open as she looks up at me, her brows pulled together in confusion.
“Barrett?” she croaks, her voice frail and wavering. She coughs gently, trying to clear her throat before speaking again.
I shush her, hiking her up in my arms a little so that I can get a better grip.
“Go back to sleep, Monroe. You’re going to be okay.”
She doesn’t question it further, her eyes growing heavy as she settles her head back against my chest. I carry her up my porch steps, struggling for a moment to unlock my door while not loosening my hold on her, but after a few attempts, manage to get the key into the lock and turn it.
I briefly consider setting her down on the sofa in the living room but almost immediately dismiss the idea. She doesn’t need a stiff sofa that has been used all of three times in the two years I’ve lived in this house.
