by Brooks, Abby
Though, if she was being honest, she’d have to admit Ian had covered those bases for her…
Bliss already felt like home and Juliet wasn’t one to give up easily.
If she decided to stay, and most of her already had, then she’d find a way.
There was a job out there for her.
She just knew it.
She simply had to find it.
Chapter Twelve
Ian
After a long shower, Ian sat down with a bottle of beer in hand and did an internet search for Juliet Lane, New York City. He didn't know what he expected to find, maybe a Facebook page, maybe a Twitter account, maybe nothing at all. What he definitely did not expect to find was picture after picture of her standing with Peter Vox, CEO of fucking Tech Lord.
Fucking. Tech Lord.
Everyone knew who Peter Vox was. You couldn't get through an evening of television without seeing him and his narcissistic smile leaning back in his pretentious office, spewing nonsense about the remarkable new product he’d willed (apparently single-handedly, if you listened to him) into existence that week.
It blew Ian’s mind that Juliet had dated someone like that.
She seemed simple and sweet. And so genuine, it was hard to believe she could tolerate a man like Peter fucking Vox.
Was that the guy she was running from?
Holy fuck.
It had to be him.
There they were, image after image, arm in arm, leaning into one another, smiling for the camera. No, not just smiling. Preening. Beaming. Smirking. They didn’t look happy. They looked full of themselves.
What did that say about Juliet, the woman Ian just set up in a rental, free of charge?
Ian considered Peter Vox to be a real type-A douchebag. Always had. There was something so condescending and uptight about his commercials. His smile was too practiced, his hair so perfect it probably took two showers to get all the gel out. Juliet didn't seem like the kind of woman who’d be drawn to a guy like that.
So, what was it about the guy that had drawn her in? Was it his money? Ian took a long pull of his beer. That idea didn’t sit well with him at all. Considering his family background, he’d dealt with his fair share of gold-digging bitches and was in no mood to deal with any more.
Was that who Juliet was? A woman attaching herself to a man for his money?
His instincts told him no, but he couldn’t think of another reason for her to be involved with an asshole like Peter Vox.
At least not a reason that made much sense.
Ian leaned back in his chair and stared off into the far corner of his home office as if the answer was hidden there, somewhere. Night had fallen hours ago, and morning would arrive sooner than he wanted it to. He knew he should go to bed, but there was just no chance he’d find sleep with so many questions racing through his mind.
He trusted Juliet.
It didn't make sense for him to trust her, but he did.
He trusted her so much, he set her up in a house and called in a favor with James to load her up with furniture.
If she was a scam artist…
The thought churned in his stomach like the beer in his hand was battery acid.
Finally, he turned his attention back to the computer screen to study the pictures again. At first, they just pissed him off. Peter smirking into the camera while Juliet beamed up at him. Peter wrapping his arm around her small shoulders, pulling her close as if she belonged to him.
But the closer Ian studied the images, the more they started to tell a different story.
The look on Juliet’s face didn’t say anything about love.
In fact, he'd seen that same look the day before.
No…that wasn’t anything close to love…
It was fear.
Sure, she beamed at Peter as if the sun rose and set on his shoulders, but the gleam in her eyes didn’t match the grin painted on her face. She wasn't in love with that guy. The more he looked, the more confident he became that Juliet didn’t even like the guy.
In one particular image, Peter's fingers dug cruelly into Juliet’s skin. In another, Ian was sure he could see bruises on her forearm. Bruises that looked suspiciously like fingertips. And in the last picture, there was no mistaking the predatory look on Peter’s face, the feral fear of the hunted etched into the dark circles under Juliet's eyes, in the hollows of her cheeks.
That was not the face of a happy woman.
Not the face of a woman in love.
That was the face of a woman scared out of her mind.
Ian sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. Morning would break before he knew it, but there was no way he’d fall asleep. Not after seeing that.
Was he reading those pictures correctly? What could’ve happened between them that sent Juliet running from New York City? What could one of the richest men in the world have done to her? How bad had it been?
One look at the fear on her face, replicated over and over and over in photo after photo told him it had been bad. It didn't take a genius to read between the lines. To understand the fear in Juliet’s eyes. To hear the story the strange bruises on her body told.
Ian choked on rage and chased it with a long pull of beer. The thought of any woman being hurt by any man was physically repellent to him, but the thought of any man hurting Juliet Lane was more than he could handle.
And that response—the visceral need to protect her, to put her needs above his—that meant he’d need to stay vigilant around her until he understood what was really going on. While his instincts told him that Peter was a bad man and Juliet was nothing more than she seemed—a woman on the run—life had taught him that people could hide a lot of ugly truth behind an easy smile.
Chapter Thirteen
Juliet
Juliet wasn't sure what Ian meant when he said he’d be at her house early. In New York, early meant anything before four in the morning. Who knew what early meant in Bliss? Before bed, she set her alarm for four o’clock and programmed the auto brew function on the coffee maker so it’d be ready when she woke. There she was at 4:15, sitting on the back porch, wrapped in a blanket, waiting for the sun to rise and Ian to call.
Listening to the rush of the water, its rhythmic whisper lapping against the beach, it felt as if her whole world fit between each crash of the waves. She’d never experienced such peace in all her life. As time passed, the sun blazed into existence where the water met the sky and Juliet knew she’d landed where she belonged.
She’d chosen a town called Bliss for a reason. Every moment of her life up to that point had been tinged with sadness. And the sadness brought guilt with it because considering how many blessings life had bestowed upon her, how dare she feel anything but ecstatic?
She'd grown up with a roof over her head, three meals a day, and, while her family had been distant, they weren't cruel. She'd never been hit. Never been degraded or screamed at. She had more than she needed when it came to clothes and toys and friends throughout her adolescence. That alone was more than some could dream of having.
Because of her upbringing, she’d developed an unparalleled work ethic which led to the best job offer…
…in the biggest tower…
…in the newest company…
…in the most sought-after city in the world.
Right out of college.
She knew how to dress and what to say to fit in. And still, despite all of that, sadness sung her to sleep every night. She spent years, reminding herself to focus on everything she had going for her. When that didn’t work, she yelled at herself for being greedy and wanting more.
Would nothing ever be good enough for her?
Yet, sitting there wrapped in a blanket, the hard wood of the back porch digging into her tailbone, scanning the horizon while the ocean birthed the sun, she finally felt happy. Like maybe she hadn’t been greedy after all. Like maybe she’d just misunderstood what she needed.
After finishing her f
irst cup of coffee, she stopped in the kitchen for a refill before heading upstairs to shower and get ready. Whenever Ian finally dragged his butt out of bed and reached out to her, she intended to be prepared. After he gave her such a hard time the day before about being awake early enough, she planned to be waiting for him on the front porch, tapping her foot impatiently when he finally arrived.
She'd show him she wasn’t afraid of a little hard work!
Hot water hissed to life behind the new shower curtain Ian brought for her. She stepped in and smiled, letting the warm water envelope her while she lost herself to thoughts of him. Soap ran down her torso and she slid her hands over her body, stopping to tweak her erect nipples, imagining Ian’s mouth there, while she slowly circled her clit with a finger on her other hand. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked her hand away and leaned her head against the tile.
Come on, Julz. Stay focused. Ian Moore is a friend. Only a friend. And you’re not in the market for anything else. Remember?
After her shower, she dried her hair and took the time to apply a quick dash of eyeliner and mascara, a bit of pink on her lips, and finally found herself standing in front of her closet, wishing she had more options to choose from. It looked like she was going to have to wear the same shorts and tank top she put on yesterday. Not ideal, but given her limited choices, it would have to do.
She finished dressing and headed back outside to sit on the front porch, Lulu trotting out after her. Enjoying the unusual heaviness in the ocean air, she inhaled deeply. It was already warm, warmer than it would be in New York at this hour, but Juliet wasn’t going to complain. She hated being cold, her fingers aching at the first sign of winter, her feet in constant need of socks or slippers as soon as the sun went down. It’d be nice to deal with a little heat and humidity for a change.
Finally, a little after seven, her phone buzzed in her hand. Juliet actually laughed out loud at the text.
Tower, this is Local Landlord…coming in hot.
She picked up the phone, still laughing, and tried to think up an equally amusing response.
Local Landlord, be advised of a possible bogey boasting about what early means.
Pleased with herself, she snapped the phone shut and waited for his response. It only took a few seconds for a new text to arrive and when it did, Juliet didn't know how to take it.
Well, at least we can say we tried. Local Landlord out.
Wait, what?
What did that mean?
She waited for another response, some clue as to whether or not Ian was joking.
He had to be joking, right?
There she was, in his house. Waiting for him to come by so they could get to work. There was no way he was going to ditch her. And he certainly wasn’t thinking about kicking her out.
Right?
She waited longer than she wanted for a follow up text that never came. Irritated at the uncertainty fluttering in her belly, she picked up her phone.
What do you mean?
She knew, or at least most of her knew, she was being silly and irrational. But the longer she waited, the more nervous she became. She had the phone open in her hand when Ian’s response came.
You just told me I wasn't welcome. I wanted to come help, but you said no.
Still unsure as to whether or not he was joking, Juliet tapped out a reply.
I said no such thing, silly.
And then, while she waited for clarity, staring at the phone as if she could physically will his answer to arrive faster, tires crunched on her driveway and the throaty rumble of a decked out four-wheel drive woke Lulu, who’d fallen asleep on Juliet’s lap. She looked up, laughing nervously at her nerves as Ian parked his truck and hopped out.
“You most certainly did say such a thing. You called me a bogey.” He arched an eyebrow and shut the door with a heavy thunk. Lulu dashed his way, yipping and yapping her greeting. Ian smiled as he reached down and scratched her between the ears. “Mornin’ Chopper.”
Juliet stood, inwardly chastising herself for the anxiety his texts brought to life.
Ian is not Peter, she reminded herself.
“I don’t even know what a bogey is, silly boy.” Juliet joined him near the truck in case he needed help carrying something. “You hit me with pilot lingo, so I did my best to hit you back with some. Best I had to offer, anyway.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s not good, I can tell you that. I was informing you I was rushing to get here. But you…? You implied I wasn’t wanted.” Ian brought his hand to his heart, feigning being wounded. “I felt rejected. And I don’t like the idea of you thinking of me that way.”
Juliet put her hand on her hip. “Let’s be honest. No one likes to feel rejected. Take me for example. I’ve been up, waiting to get to work since four this morning. Somewhere around six-thirty, I began feeling a little rejected myself. So why don’t you put aside your wounded, tough guy act, so we can get to it already.”
Ian flipped open the tailgate and unveiled a mess of tools and wood and all kinds of renovation materials Juliet didn’t have names for. “You think this is an act? Are you suggesting you don’t think I’m a man?” He pulled out a giant saw and held it in an aggressive stance. “This is a man’s tool, Juliet.”
She widened her eyes and made a surprised face. “It’s so big and long!”
“You better believe it is.”
She took the toolbox he passed her way and held out the other hand to indicate she could take something else. “So, Mr. Manly Man, I don't know what you call early here in Bliss, South Carolina, but seven a.m.? That’s not early. I've actually been up since four, ready to go, waiting on your lazy butt.”
Ian hoisted several long pieces of wood onto his shoulder and grunted under their weight. “Four a.m., huh?”
“Yep. That's how we get up early in the city. Not this silly, after the sun’s already up stuff.”
“And how do you think you’ll feel come lunchtime?” Ian led the way around to the back of the house with Juliet following close behind. “You think you’ll still be rip-roaring, ready to go? Ready to work like a man, with a man?” He dropped the wood near the deck, letting it clatter to the ground while he flexed and contorted his body like a bodybuilder, even going so far as to growl.
Juliet set the toolbox on the ground and shook her head, trying to look disapproving while her heart gleefully jumped and sang, inviting the butterflies in her stomach to join in.
This man, this wonderful man.
Everything felt okay when she was with him.
Better than okay.
Easy.
Right.
Natural.
Ellie’s words from the day before came back to her and Juliet squashed the litany of Ian obsessed thoughts.
You’re just his latest project, remember? Another puppy who needed saving. Enjoy him, but don’t get too attached.
That thought made her sad, and she was so tired of being sad.
“Is everything a competition with you?” she asked, attempting to rekindle the good-natured banter.
“Why do you ask? Afraid of losing?”
Juliet laughed. “I don't think I even know how to lose. Not a frequent experience of mine,” she said, egging Ian on.
He faced the water, watched the morning sun glisten and gleam like diamonds scattered across the surface. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, before turning to Juliet with a smirk. “New town, new home, new guy, new rules.”
Chapter Fourteen
Juliet
Juliet wasn't sure what to make of Ian’s last comment.
New guy?
Did that mean he considered himself a replacement for her old guy? That was presumptuous of him, considering she wasn't even in the market for a new guy.
Oh, come on now, she chided herself, you gossiped with Ellie Charles—a complete stranger—about his past. You spent the whole night going on and on about his kindness, fantasized about his body, then touched yourself in th
e shower while thinking about him. You can cut the guy a little slack over the possibility he might be a little obsessed with you, too.
Besides, the idea of him thinking about her the same way she’d been thinking of him felt damn good.
Before long, Julz discovered that Ian intended to tear apart the old porch and replace the rotting wood with new. She had anticipated hard work, but the project proved downright grueling. While Ian did the majority of the heavy lifting, sweat drenched her exhausted body by the time noon rolled around. They only took a fifteen-minute break for lunch, which didn’t allow for much conversation as they were both too busy trying to get food into their stomachs before they returned to work.
After lunch, Ian peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt, and what was hiding underneath proved just as magnificent as Juliet imagined. Her hands had touched his body twice now, once the night they met when she groped him…err…brushed sand from his chest. And again the day before when she hugged him after he told her about the house.
Those two experiences had drawn an impressive picture of his body in her mind, but she wasn’t the least bit prepared for the truth of it in the flesh. It took every ounce of her willpower not to stand and gawk.
Scratch that.
She gawked all right.
It took every ounce of her willpower to look away.
He was so. damn. beautiful. His abs rippled as he bent and shifted. The delicious taper of his waist made her wonder what was hiding in his pants. His biceps flexed as he lifted and hoisted wood or wielded his tools with all the confidence of a master carpenter.
Meanwhile, Juliet smashed her fingers with a hammer.
She chipped and bent her nails.
Her hair hung limp and damp and what little makeup she put on that morning had to be long gone.
Even her eyes stung from the sweat that kept dripping past her eyebrows.
By the time Ian called it quits, Juliet hurt in places she didn't know could hurt.
