But I remember the way her eyes beckoned me, they caressed a need inside that I didn’t know existed.
Finally, after cleaning up the mess I made, I get myself ready for bed, leaning over to find that I only have about three hours of shut-eye ahead of me. Turning off the small lamp and closing my eyes, I immediately recall the vision of Taylor in the moonlight with her plump lips formed in an “O” shape as I took her over the edge.
I tossed and turned for the short period of sleep I had allowed myself, my dreams plagued by my night with Taylor. Sweet and sexy Taylor. I had thought about asking around for her number, but she made it clear that our night together was a one-time thing and that I shouldn’t expect a repeat performance.
A shrilling noise wakes me from my restless sleep. Glancing at the clock, I see that I have about thirty minutes before I need to rush out of the house. With a groan, I toss my legs over the side of the bed and run my hands down my face in exhaustion. The scar on my leg catches my eye, a nasty twisting of skin and muscle on my thigh where I lost a fight to a tractor that had turned over while working on a steep embankment. I had never experienced something so painful before in my life, that is, until the shock took over and I felt and saw nothing but a blackness unlike any other.
Having my mom and aunt fuss over me for the few weeks I was in recovery was almost as painful as the actual injury, but worst of all was watching my cousins struggle to balance their lives and add on the assistance that I needed.
The injury happened almost two years ago and the muscles still lock up in my thigh if I move it in the wrong way.
Stretching, I extend my arms and legs and then walk into my bathroom to take one of the fastest showers known to man.
Sprinting through my kitchen I grab some bottles of water and fruit, enough to get me through lunchtime before I can head over to our warehouse office, then I reach for my keys dangling obscurely from the key and mail holder Sara, my cousin's wife, gifted me. Just as I reach for the pieces of metal, I look down at my counter toward my most recent rendering of my backyard.
Within the acreage, I’ve drawn out a small pond with a dock, weeping willows planted along the edges, an expanded back deck bringing a living space outside with a fireplace and built-in bar. But along the edge there is a large open space. Something is missing, I can feel it deep in my bones, but I just can’t seem to put my finger on it. Every day I stare at this flimsy piece of paper hoping that inspiration strikes, but so far, I’ve been coming up empty.
The permits to begin work on the backyard were approved yesterday so my team and I can start construction as soon as I find a moment to breathe above the water which is slowly pulling me deeper in its depths.
Something needs to change, and soon. I’m just not sure how to do it alone anymore.
Shaking my head, I grab the keys and head toward my work truck with my trailer attached at the back. Normally we store our work trucks at the office warehouse, but I knew I needed to head out before dawn today.
The truck turns onto the main road just as the sun begins to peek above the tree line and I know it’s going to be a hot one. Even at daybreak, the temperature is reading a balmy 78 degrees and the humidity is sticking to my skin, wrapping itself like a wet blanket around me, suffocating me.
It takes another twenty minutes for me to pull up to the client's house and I cringe when I see how overgrown the grass is, looking more like a wheat field than a landscaped masterpiece. Before getting out of the truck, I make a note in my tablet to give them a discount for having gone so long without maintenance.
Satisfied with the cost reduction for the client, I hop out of the truck and saddle myself up on the riding mower preparing to spend the next few hours salvaging what I can of this twenty-five-acre property.
Sweat pours down my back in waves and I long since removed my shirt when I moved from the riding mower to the string trimmer. The perimeter of the yard is long and wide, filled with custom landscaping and bushes I planted here last summer. The flower beds are growing nicely despite their lack of care, which is something I made sure of when I selected the pieces.
I flick the off switch for the trimmer and stand at the very end of the backyard and take in the surroundings. It’s still just as elegant as it was when it was completed last year. I mentally pat myself on the back for the design.
As I begin my trek back to my truck, I notice a car pull into the driveway. I’m assuming it’s the client’s since they knew that I was coming bright and early in the morning, something I always confirm with my clients ahead of time. I’ve had a few clients run out with a frying pan in their hands toward some of my employees when they were woken too early without the knowledge ahead of time.
I watch as the woman climbs out of the driver’s seat, her hair skewed in different directions, and her dress twisted at an odd angle. But what catches my eye is the tall man inside that refuses to get out of the car even when the woman begins to shout at him.
Approaching the scene, they both take me in, shock registering on their faces. They must have missed my truck parked across the street. But it’s the shocked look on the man’s face that does me in and the anger bubbles beneath my heated skin. One of my newest employees, Jacob, stares at me with red lipstick smeared along his neck. I don’t need to ask any questions, I can already surmise what happened. And, of course, it’s not the first time I’ve caught employees sleeping with clients, married ones at that. They know the score – immediate termination, for both the employee and the client.
Walking past the car, I shake my head at them in disgust, my empty fist clenching at my side. It was bad enough that Jacob lied and said he was booked for another client this morning, but to have me cover his shift so that he could hide his dick inside the client is too much. Sometimes I feel more like a babysitter than a boss for my employees.
Simmering as I reach the truck, I grab my phone from the center console and conference call my two partners. We need a resolution and we need it now. And it’s well past time for me to ask for help.
They both answer at the first ring and share a warm greeting, but at my silence, they both quiet down and ask what I need.
“I need employees and I need them now. I just had to let one go for sleeping with a client. And I. . .I just can’t do it alone anymore. I only have two other full-timers and we need six or seven to run properly. Not to mention the slew of requests from new clients.”
Jackson speaks up first. “I have a few young guys working just part time because I don’t have the hours. I’m sure they’ll be happy for a full-time gig.”
“I need guys that aren’t going to screw around on the job. Good, solid workers.”
“You can trust these guys. You know I watch them like a hawk and not a single one has hit on the gym bunnies that come in. Let me ask around and I’ll let you know today. One of them is Sara’s brother, Aiden. He may have some guys that would like work too.”
“I need them to start immediately, so let me know as soon as possible.”
“Why didn’t you ask for help sooner?” Cooper asks, and if he were here in person, he’d see my eyebrow rise in response.
“Because you’re both just as busy as I am and I didn’t want to make it a big deal. But I’m sinking.”
“Next time, ask,” he commands, his detective voice sounding strong and sure.
“We also need to look at hiring an office manager or bookkeeper. It’s more than I can handle. I spent six hours on spreadsheets last night. If I never see another as long as I live, then that will be one day too many.”
Piping in, Jackson says, “I’ll ask Elle. She has an accountant for her bakery, but I think she is booked up. She still may know someone available.”
“Thanks, guys. I’m sorry I had to burden you today.”
“We’re sorry we haven’t been there for you, cuz. Let’s grab a beer this week, alright?”
“Sounds good.”
As I hang up the phone, I start up my truck and head toward the
office with a new sense of determination and relief. Everything is going to be alright.
Chapter Two – Taylor
THE FOG POOLS AROUND my feet and I feel as if I’m walking on air. It’s beautiful and dreamy amongst the sea of bubble-gum pink and glitter. Music drifts through the air as the DJ spins an upbeat tune popular with the crowd as they shift back and forth on the dance floor.
I’m standing along the edge of the room, taking in the concept that Kerry and I brought to life just hours before. Hours spent changing the entire design because the client decided she no longer wanted rose-gold for her theme. Instead she wanted what she called “Millennial-pink.” I’m not quite sure what that color is exactly, but it was close enough to bubble-gum that the sixteen-year-old couldn’t tell the difference.
Kerry has taught me so much about this job, and about myself, in the few years we’ve worked together. She taught me about kindness, and objective viewing, and about love. Kerry is and always will be my first real friend. That thought alone evokes a small tear to drip from my eye onto my blush covered cheek.
“How you holding up?” an imperial voice says from beside me. I was so lost in my own world that I didn’t even notice her approach. I glance over at my best friend and return her sympathetic smile. I know she regrets having to close shop and return back to her home, not that she has disclosed where that is precisely, but I can tell she is running from something, just like me. That’s why we made the perfect pair.
“I’m good. Just sad that we had to end our partnership with a sweet sixteen. You know how much I hate them.”
Nodding, she turns to look back at the crowd gathered around the birthday girl and her seven-tiered cake. “I know, but if we ended it after our last event, I might not have been able to say goodbye.” A hint of mirth dances upon her lips and I know she’s referring to me leaving the event with the bartender.
Hunter.
The dreamy cousin of the groom that knew how to push every one of my buttons in both an irritating and completely pleasurable way.
The event was only the third time we had met in person, but we have very little in common, except for little jabs thrown at each other whenever we were forced to converse. It was the unexplainable sexual chemistry that ignited whenever we were together that became hard to ignore. That night I treated myself to a going out of business gift since I doubted we would ever see each other again.
We live on opposite sides of the city and I have minimal intention of staying in this town. I’m a nomad by nature and without my friend here to keep me on solid ground I have the itch to move. Once my lease is up, I’m out.
“Where do you think you’ll go?” Kerry whispers as she shakes her head at a waiter leaning far too close to one of the underage guests.
“I’ve always wanted to travel to Hawaii or some foreign country. A place I’ve never been to before. You travel a lot, where do you recommend?”
“If it were me?” Kerry asks in surprise as if she’s never considered such a question.
“Yes.”
“I’d stay where I felt happiest. A place that I could call home. I know you’re a wanderer. There is a reason people wander. Family, friends, loneliness, but when you find a reason to stay somewhere. . .that feeling is amazing.”
“Then, why are you leaving? You seem happy here.”
She sighs heavily and clasps her hands together in front of her as if protecting herself. “Because I wasn’t given a choice.”
From the corner of my eye, I watch a man in a black suit step into the space and narrow his gaze at Kerry before slipping back out of the room. I want to ask her more, but she shakes her head knowing my question.
“I’m sorry things couldn’t have worked out long term. There is an envelope waiting for you at your apartment. I couldn’t do goodbye here so I left it in words from my heart. You’re my best friend and I cherish our friendship, but I’m going to be unavailable to contact you for a while. Just know that I’m okay. And hopefully I’ll be able to reach out to you, and soon.”
“Kerry,” I begin.
She turns to face me, tears in her own eyes and hugs me tightly before slipping between the tables and out to where the man in the suit waits.
All I can think is, “What the hell just happened?”
The remainder of the night is spent attempting to keep the teens from spiking the drinks; which, yes, I didn’t realize was still a thing, and trying to corral a bunch of teens outside to watch the parents gift their daughter a white sports car convertible.
A car I’m sure will be wrecked and totaled within a month.
Finally, the room empties out not long after three in the morning and I help the cleaning staff tidy up the space.
I grab one of the confetti princess crowns scattered across the tables and tuck it into the pocket of my linen suit pants. Three weeks ago I broke my rules, what’s one more?
It takes about an hour to get the room back into its condition before we turned it into a ballroom of Pepto-Bismol pink. I wave goodbye to the venue’s event coordinator on my way out, but he rushes toward me as my hand lands on the heavy door.
At my shock, I turn to face Chaz, the coordinator for the hotel. His blonde hair is still styled to perfection, slicked back away from his face, his piercing blue eyes shine against his tanned skin. And the gray suit he wears conforms against his body.
The woman that was speaking with him previously scowls in my direction.
“Hey, Taylor, let me walk you out.”
“Sure,” I reply as I strut past him as he holds the door wide.
I’m parked at the far end of the lot and I’m thankful as he walks me through the dimly lit parking lot.
“Thanks for escorting me.”
“It was my pleasure. Actually, I was hoping that I could take you out sometime.”
“Oh,” I reply as I peer up at him. “Like a date?”
“Yeah.”
I silently toss around the idea of a date with Chaz. I haven’t been out with a man in a long time, years even. And sex? Well, besides that night with Hunter, I have been practically celibate. My stomach lurches as I recall my night with Hunter and how possessive he had been with me in his arms.
“So? What do you think? Maybe I can pick you up tomorrow night around six?”
“Sure, that sounds good. I’d rather meet you at the restaurant, if that’s ok.”
My first date rule gleams front and center as I watch him consider my request. Always meet at the restaurant. Always offer to pay for your share. Never have sex on the first date. Rules keep my life in order and my anxiety at bay. Without my rules, I always felt the dread and doom seeping in. Rules allowed me to keep my life on the path I wanted, the path that holds the safety I need.
Chaz seems hesitant at first at my request, but he slowly nods his head with a smile and says that he’ll text me the name and address of the restaurant.
I should feel giddy at the prospect of a date with a handsome man, but instead, all I feel is the need to cancel. The entire drive back to my apartment I run scenarios through my head that will be convincing enough that Chaz won’t question me.
“Stop it, Taylor,” I reprimand myself as I insert my key into the lock on my door to my apartment and let myself inside.
It’s quiet. Not a sound of music, scurrying, or even the random wheezing of my fridge. Or maybe it’s just because my ears are ringing at my thoughts from my night with Hunter. They haven’t escaped my mind for weeks, the images continually flipping through my subconscious. The way his hands delicately touched my skin, the way his lips and tongue explored every plane of my body as if he were exploring a map. I was his mission that night, and he made damn sure I knew when he had found his buried treasure.
My skin heats thinking about him and I practically rip my suit jacket from my shoulders and toss it on the couch, leaving me in my suit pants, heels, and silk camisole. Sauntering into the kitchen, I open the freezer and stick my head inside to calm my hot flash, but it
offers no relief.
“Dammit,” I murmur as I slam the door, apparently loud enough that my neighbor hears it and bangs against the wall. I’m surprised the grumpy old goat is awake at this hour.
Sweat beads at the base of my neck as I reach for my thermostat against the kitchen wall and turn down the temperature so that the air conditioning unit flips on. I find one of the vents procured along the ceiling and stand under it feeling the frigid air swirl around my body, but it does little to cool me off. I feel as if I’m going through menopause, but I know better.
“Stop thinking about him,” I whisper to the empty apartment, but, of course, my mind goes back to how sexy Hunter looked as he leaned over the bar at the wedding and spoke to me. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone and I could see a small smattering of chest hair beneath the material. His hair was mussed from working the bar and running his hands through the dark strands. Hunter was everything I imagined a playboy to look like. And if his moves in the bedroom were based on his experience, I couldn’t exactly fault the women that constantly threw themselves at him. I had witnessed fourteen just that night. Which is why I was surprised when he offered to take me home. I was sure he had plans with one of the many beautiful women in attendance.
“This is ridiculous,” I curse as I stomp my way to my bed and rip my camisole off my body and toss it into the hamper across the way. My suit pants follow, but I take a second to fold them and lay them across the end of my bed since I’ll need to take them to be dry cleaned, even though I’m not quite sure when I’ll be wearing them again.
That’s when I remember that Kerry mentioned an envelope at my apartment. I’ll have to remember to check my mailbox tomorrow morning because right now the bathtub is calling my name and I definitely plan on answering the call.
The tub fills with steaming hot water and I toss in a few lavender bath salts hoping that it will help relax my body, and as I slide into the frothy liquid the water surrounds me in a cloud of respite.
Stolen Hearts (The Stolen Series Book 3) Page 2
