by Teddy Hester
Instead, I gave her a job. Virtually shackled her to me. And in return, she turned my world upside down. Made me forget who I am. How I roll.
No fraternization? Fuck me. Being brutally honest, I have to admit I’ve been searching for loopholes around my own rules since I met her.
And look where it’s landed me. In her bed, craving her as much now as I did a hour ago. I scratched that itch, and now it’s inflamed.
What am I supposed to do with that?
A phone rings, and we both startle. I roll away, and this time she doesn’t try to stop me. Grabbing the jeans we left in a furious heap not long ago, I drag out my phone. “It’s mine,” I say over my shoulder to her. “Frank?”
“An emergency meeting’s just been called. I think you should be there.”
“What’s it about?”
“Somebody’s questioning how we want to handle the s-CO2 well.”
I scrub a hand down my face. Any relaxing my body did with Jilly vanishes. “On my way.”
Phone goes back in my jeans, which I jump into.
“What is it?” Jilly asks.
“Some sort of emergency meeting at the plant.” I finish dressing and head for the door, not sure how to get away without making things awkward. More awkward.
“And they couldn’t talk to you before you left this morning?” There’s an edge of panic in her tone.
“That’s the way it is sometimes.” I turn to her, hand on the doorknob. “Jilly—”
She’s got the sheet pulled up, covering herself, hair a fiery halo cascading over her shoulders. My fist wants to bury itself in the tangled mass and pull her soft body to me. Her eyes, those brilliant jewels are currently clouded, stabbing at my guilty conscience. She deserves better than me taking everything she’s got, then dashing out the door. Deserves better than a man so twisted with confusion about her that he’s secretly glad to be dashing out the door.
“Sorry. Try to get some sleep.”
Longhorn Petroleum’s boss, Vernon Murphy, rates a slightly better conference room than the ones downstairs in the main building. The walls are still that same unappetizing beige, but at least it has real furniture instead of folding tables and chairs.
And, thank God, there’s coffee. I join Frank at the urn. “What’s up?”
“Not sure. Something to do with the process you suggested for coordinating the well activities.”
Shit. I can’t believe we’re meeting over some procedures. The man gets reports on everything twice a day. Something must have happened. Otherwise, I’m losing a lot of sleep time over nothing. Not to mention how I ended up leaving Jilly. I didn’t even feed her.
That train of thought gets derailed when Murphy enters the room. What he lacks in height he makes up for with a crisp banker-gray suit and subtle silk tie. He shakes hands as he makes his way to the head of the table, but the welcoming politician smile doesn’t ever reach his eyes. We all shuffle over to join him, Frank sitting down beside me. I greet Doug Battles with a chuck of my chin.
So, the head of Roi-Tex Construction is here, too. And, sitting next to him is that pissant who tried to throw Jilly into the pool at the party. What’s a pipefitter supervisor here for that couldn’t be handled by his boss, Doug?
“Let’s have quick introductions before we begin,” Murphy says.
The other two men I hadn’t recognized end up being the Control Room supervisor and the turbine supervisor, both day-shift people.
“A couple of things need clarification,” Murphy says, eyeballing his laptop, “and since it’s almost time for a weekly update, I thought we could roll it into this meeting, too.”
Oh, great. Nothing like giving us a heads-up to prepare. I glance at Frank, whose face is stony.
“Jack, I understand you’ve proposed a change in our procedures for converting the CO2.”
“Not exactly. Expanded upon them might be more accurate.”
The man doesn’t move a muscle, and yet he suddenly takes on the steeliness of a girder. “I thought all those details were mapped out before we began.”
“Let me walk you through what I proposed.”
“I’d appreciate that,” the Control Room supervisor, Carson, cuts in. “I got the rundown from the night shift operator, but I’d like to hear it direct.”
What, a pissing contest? This is about him not trusting his night shift manager? “That’s understandable, Mr. Carson. Here’s what Bill and I discussed.”
I run through the idea, answering Carson’s rapid-fire questions along the way.
“Will that change anything for the turbines?” Hadley, the turbine supervisor, asks.
“There will be some increased pressure.”
Frank leans forward and opens his laptop. “The specs for the new turbines y’all installed are designed to handle that. I have that data here.” He shares the info with the group.
Hadley’s head bobs. “Yes, we understood that. It’ll actually increase electrical output, with less draw on water—a scarce resource here in Texas. But you’re deviating from the plan we approved when we hired you.”
It’s true, but I brought it to Doug before our crews began making changes. Now that we’re nearly completed with the work, why is this suddenly an issue? My sphincter clenches, acknowledging the hot seat it’s sitting on. I glance Doug’s way, giving him a chance to explain so I don’t inadvertently throw him under a bus.
“AI has been in constant contact with us at Roi-Tex on this change, Vern,” Doug says. “And I’ve apprised you every step of the way.”
“Will the work be done on time?” Vernon Murphy asks.
I shoulda pegged him earlier as a bean-counter. More interested in the budget than in the project. Guess his silence in the pitch I gave his board wasn’t executive vision and delegation. He’s nothing but a fuckin’ adding machine, wrapped up with a pearly white smile and an ear to the ground.
Felix clears his throat. “I’ve studied the new plans, and I have some concerns.” He flicks a glance at me, and I have to wonder what he’s getting ready to toss my way.
“Not only will the current pipes need to be reinforced to handle the increased pressure from the extra s-CO2 output, but with the additional piping we’re installing, getting into position to do the welding is going to be a challenge. It’s gonna mean more work, of course, and that means more time. It could jeopardize the deadline.”
What the fuck? He knows about the special scaffolding designed to handle that. What bug’s got up his immature ass? Payback for tripping into the pool?
Murphy shakes his head, mouth turned down like a dark purple horseshoe in his smooth, tanned face. “The deadline’s firm.”
Doug’s eyes send an unspoken apology my way.
An odd sort of calm comes over me, like clouds settling over a mountain. Now that it’s 100 percent confirmed I’m the target of this emergency meeting, I’m not punching blindfolded anymore. “The deadline’s not changed.”
Although not smiling, Murphy’s horseshoe unbends a skosh. “Explain.”
“The scaffolding—which your men have helped install—” I give a tight nod to Felix “—was designed for that very purpose. It provides direct access to the pipes you’re talking about.”
“Felix?” Murphy asks.
He looks down at the table, head shaking. “It’s close quarters down there. Barely room to move around, much less hold a torch. Safety’s an issue.”
“First I’m hearing about it,” Doug says.
“It hasn’t been far enough along ‘til now for us to evaluate.”
I lean back in my chair. “I’ll go down first. I’ll even weld a pipe while I’m there. Then I’ll send my men down, and they’ll do some welding. We’ll know exactly how dangerous it is before any of your men go into that well.”
A silent battle’s waged between him and me, blood pulsing beats in my ears as I wait for him to back down. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “All right.”
“And you’ll help any w
ay you can,” Doug adds, nailing his pipefitter with a frosty warning.
Felix shifts slightly. “Of course. We want this project to be successful. And I want my men safe.”
Doug nods, and his face softens somewhat. “Understood. In the meantime, just keep ‘em working on the jobs we talked about on the current schedule.”
“Speaking of that,” Murphy says, “update me on the progress. It looks like some time has been made up?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, “The AI crew and Doug’s crew have managed to catch up a day and a half of the work that was trailing behind. Barring the unforeseen, everything’ll be caught up by the beginning of next week.”
That seems to make the refinery boss happier. His mouth has relaxed into a straight line. “Good to hear. I understand there’s been a problem on the night shift with materials disappearing?”
Wonder where he got that info? I swipe Felix with a jaundiced eye and have my answer from his face and its sudden flush. “Some. Little things.”
“Any ideas who’s causing it?” the boss asks.
“Not really. There doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to it.”
“Look into it,” Murphy commands, looking between Doug and me. “I understand an entire tool kit had to be replaced. That’s time and material lost, with nobody knowing how or why, in spite of all the security camera coverage. Doesn’t make me feel comfortable.”
Yeah, that had to be Felix, damn him. From the night he drove Jilly over to Corpus. He’s churning up the refinery boss for no good reason. If she couldn’t go alone, I should have sent Danny with her. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
So now, on top of everything else in the schedule, we’ve got to be detectives.
“I’ve asked Security to step up, too,” Murphy says.
“Sounds good.” I start to push away from the table.
“One more thing. How’s the journalist working out? I understand she interrupted your work in the Control Room a couple of days ago?”
My teeth grind, and I spear Carson with a glare. He’s looking at Murphy, surprise on his face like it’s news to him, so where’s this coming from? The nighttime Control Room operator, I guess. “She’s working out fine.”
Murphy nods again. “As badly as I want that article to go out, the job comes first. She’s a very pretty young lady. Don’t let her be a distraction.”
A red haze suddenly colors my world. He challenges everything we’ve done so far, listens to every rumor, and now he’s calling me on the carpet because of Jillian? He couldn’t have handled that in private? “Not a problem.”
“Keep it that way for another week. Okay, everybody, anything else? If not, back to work.”
If I move, I may punch something. It’s a toss-up as to what or whom. Enemies and spies on all sides.
But actually, I have only myself to blame for Jilly being here. And now I’ve gone and slept with her, too. How many kinds of fool can a man be? Seems I may have invented a couple.
Frank closes up his computer, then lays a hand on my forearm. “Let’s go.”
“Damn straight.”
CHAPTER TEN
Still Seven Days to Deadline
“Rode hard and put away wet.” That’s how the old saying goes about a woman used for a man’s pleasure. I can relate. Dammit.
Wasn’t it just a few minutes ago I felt so good, cocooned in his arms?
The sheet’s still tucked up under my chin as I sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed, wondering what just happened.
He devours me like a ravenous tiger, then leaves my carcass behind with not even a kiss goodbye?
Hell, he didn’t even say goodbye.
That must be some emergency meeting.
For about two seconds, I consider dressing and following Jack back out to the plant. But I wouldn’t be allowed into the meeting. Depending on how big an emergency it is, a journalist is probably the last person they’d want hearing all the details. I’ll just have to wait until I go to work tonight and see what I can find out.
No use sitting and stewing about it right now. Time to get some sleep, if I can. I fluff my pillow and lie back down, taking the sheet with me. And proceed to toss and turn a few times. Reminds me of my dog, seeking a comfortable place to plant.
I can’t. My mind won’t shut off, reliving what we just shared. Hot and hard, like a summer squall, leaving me wrung out and sated. Like I’d craved since the pool party. I bet I could have slept just fine if he’d been beside me here in this torture device of a bed.
My stomach rumbles, demanding attention. I flop over on my back and stare at the ceiling. A quick calculation tells me it’s been nearly twelve hours since I last ate. Giving up on sleep, I climb out of bed, pull on yesterday’s clothes, and head over to the diner.
Breakfast. Another pleasure we didn’t get to share this morning.
“Mornin’,” Crystal says, holding a coffee pot in her hand. “Wondered where you were. Juice?”
I start to nod, but stop myself at the last minute on the way to our usual table. “Coffee. I’d like some coffee this morning, please.”
She grins and follows me to flip over the white china mug already set on the table, then pours steamy goodness from her pot. “Jack not joining you today?”
“No.”
Her nod is somber, though a smile flits around her lips. “Full breakfast?”
“Scrambled eggs, pancakes and syrup, hash browns, and a double side of bacon.”
The pen races along her order pad. “Cheese on those eggs?”
“Why not?”
“Cheddar or Swiss?” Her chuckle sounds like a dare.
“Both.”
She laughs out loud at that one and stuffs her pen into the messy bun on top of her head. “Comin’ right up.”
A girl’s entitled to some comfort, and I’ll take mine over hot cakes, thank you very much, Mr. DePaul. Humph.
His name whispers through me, gentle, caressing. Who knew a week ago that this quiet, determined man would storm into my life and snag my interest? He was supposed to be a one-night fling. And if we hadn’t been interrupted by my brother that first night, that’s all Jack DePaul would have been—a one-and-done. We’re both carrying other responsibilities.
Our timing is for shit.
“You look like you just swallowed a sour cherry pit.” Crystal sets a plate in front of me and refills my mug. “Somethin’ happen to your partner?”
“Nope. I’m sure you’ll see him later.”
“I’m surprised he’s not here now. You two look good together.”
I can feel my neck heating up as I run a pat of butter around the bottom hotcake in my stack. “We’re not a couple.”
Crystal gives me a mocking side glance. “Okay.”
“We just work together.”
“Honey, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
That makes me stop slathering the next pancake to take a closer look at her. “He’s usually snarling at me. Or poking fun.”
“Oh, girl, please. You and I both know that dog won’t hunt.” She’s standing with a hip protruding, weight on one leg, the coffee pot resting on the table. “Don’t be a cliché.”
Well hell’s own bells. Crystal, fuzzy bleach blonde hair in a messy bun sporting a pencil, a wad of gum in her mouth, chipped blue polish on her fingernails, and nurses’ issue white platform mules on her feet, is telling me not to be cliché? “You wanna run that past me again, Crystal?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Do you like him?”
“Sure. He’s my boss.”
An indelicate snort is her reply. “Who’re you foolin’? You like him. You send him little looks when you think he can’t see. You listen to him when he tells you what would be best for you to order. He always waits to sit until you’re seated. Y’all pass things to each other so your fingers can touch. Of course you like him. Don’t even try to deny it.”
My nose twitches in irritation, and my mouth sets. “We’ve only k
nown each other a week. I don’t know what I think of him.”
And that’s a downright lie. I’ve been attracted to him from the first. And every day that goes by, I like him a little more. Every thing I find out about him makes me more interested in knowing more. After this morning? When we let our guard down and really gave in to each other? Yeah. I like the man. More than I should, considering how long I’ve known him. For all I know, he could be engaged to someone back home. Or even married, for all I know. Damn, he could have a kid or two. Anxiety squeezes the breath out of my lungs.
“Don’t take too long to work it out,” Crystal advises. “How much longer will he be here?”
I attack my eggs, chopping the salt and pepper into them with a vengeance. “Doesn’t matter. Neither of us is making long-term plans.”
“Why not? The man is prime beef.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
“And unless I miss my mark, he’s sweet on you.”
“That I doubt. There’s attraction, maybe, but that’s all.”
“Push it. What’ve ya got to lose?”
I shrug. She probably wasn’t left alone without a backward glance after sex this morning.
An elderly couple comes in and waves at Crystal, who turns to intercept them.
“Just give it some thought. You’ve got all the right equipment, honey. Go for it.” With that, she grins at me one last time and goes to seat the new arrivals. When Crystal takes their order, they move to adjacent sides of the little square table so they can hold hands down beside their chairs.
I can feel the memory of Jack’s hands entwined with mine as he plumbed my depths this morning. Him gripping with his strong fingers, as though he couldn’t get close enough to me or stamp his hold on me tight enough. And I’d seized his right back, as though I could capture the moment and the feelings that he caused to surge through me.
In this second, I know that we aren’t finished with each other. That there’s something between us, growing, digging some roots, seeking nourishment. I just have to decide how badly I want it. How hard I’m willing to work for it.
There’s a lot of ground to cover in the next week or so. Things to find out about each other, beginning with what his feelings are. But the timing’s bad. We need to get through this construction job, the grapefruit harvest, so much. I have no business thinking this far ahead, seeing and considering possibilities instead of just enjoying the here and now. Damn Crystal for forcing my mind’s eye in that direction.
