Bachelor's Secret

by Emily Bishop

  “Worse isn’t going to come to worst,” he assured me.

  “Don’t try to handle me, Burrows. Your hands aren’t big enough.” His tone didn’t sit right with me. “I’m not your boss’ fucking son anymore. I am your goddamn boss.”

  Most of my employees respected the hell out me, but some of the old- timers had to be reminded from time to time.

  “I know that,” Bart seethed quietly.

  I inhaled a deep breath, trying to control the sudden urge to fly home to Houston and take control of the situation myself. My voice changed when I spoke again, the command of a man in control and who had been raised to be ringing clearly. “Then level with me.”

  “If worse comes to worst, there could be penalties,” he said.

  “Penalties? How much? Is there a statutory cap?”

  “Millions,” he breathed, as if it pained him to say.

  I made quick calculations in my head. “We can withstand that.”

  “Not the kind of millions we’re possibly looking at.” Getting straight answers from him today was like pulling teeth from a goddamn chicken.

  “So, not only millions then?” I queried.

  “It depends, Shane.”

  I controlled the ball of rage in my stomach. “I told you to level with me, Burrows. You’re my fucking employee, even if you are the president. I’m keeping out of this. I haven’t spoken to the lawyers since I left because I thought it was the best for the company. But if you won’t fucking level with me, guess who my next call’s going to be?”

  “Shane.”

  “I’m not kidding, Bart,” I growled into my phone.

  “Not millions, no. Billions possibly,” he finally admitted.

  “What do the auditors say?”

  “No projections we can share yet,” he answered.

  I breathed hard. I wasn’t quite sure why he couldn’t share them with the fucking CEO of the company, but I reminded myself once again that distance was what was best. “So, massive motherfucking penalties, is that it? Are we facing anything else?”

  He paused. “Possible criminal sanctions.”

  “Criminal sanctions? You’re only telling me this now?” The vein in my head threatened to explode.

  Bart’s simple answer nearly gave me an aneurysm. “You only asked now.”

  “I only...” I inhaled, the edges of my vision red. “I only asked now? Is that honestly the best you’ve got?”

  I cut Bart off as soon as he started talking. “Fuck distance, I’m coming home. I’m calling Eric in five. Have the board assembled by tomorrow morning.”

  “No! No, Shane,” Bart jumped in. “That would be a mistake at this point. All the board members have already given public statements about how proud they are of you for fully immersing yourself in an internal investigation, and they will repeat that in their interviews with the EPA. You’re better off staying where you are.”

  Something tugged at my gut. “Should I be concerned about this investigation?”

  “No. Absolutely not, Shane.” Bart’s usual confidence and bolster was back in his tone. “I’ve got everything under control on this end. You keep sending over whatever you can find and relax.”

  “Order number seven,” the barista called from the counter. “Number seven, you’re up.”

  That was me. “Okay, thanks, Bart. I’ll do that. Keep me in the loop.”

  “Of course, you just leave it me. Don’t worry.”

  I was worried, but not about Bart. He would keep me updated. The EPA, on the other hand– and the fact that they had launched a full investigation– didn’t sit well with me.

  I had been trying to keep the investigation clean. I had nothing to hide, and reaching out to my contacts would make it seem like I did. I was seriously tempted to call my guy in the agency as I was collecting my coffee.

  “Hey,” a voice called as I stepped onto the sidewalk outside of the diner. “Aren’t you the guy who came into the store last week?”

  I recognized the owner of the voice as the guy who had come into the hardware store the week before, just after I’d been asked to leave.

  He was tall and lean, casually resting with his shoulder against the wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips. Tousled black hair fell over his whiskey-colored eyes.

  “You mean me?” I jabbed a thumb at my chest, and he nodded, running his eyes over me like he was sizing me up.

  I wondered if he was the girl from the store’s boyfriend. Maybe that was why she was so stand-offish with me, because she didn’t want to be caught being friendly with a stranger when her boyfriend might walk in at any moment.

  I wasn’t very familiar with jealousy, but it was definitely the bitter feeling swirling inexplicably in the pit of my stomach. Then, a slow grin spread on the guy’s mouth as he motioned me over.

  “You’re new in town, right?” he asked, not sounding like a jealous boyfriend at all. In fact, if anything, he was overly friendly and looked like he was settling in for a chat. I remembered that people from Mystic were like that sometimes.

  “In a manner of speaking,” I answered, trying to get a read on the guy.

  He was standing right where my truck was parked, so I unlocked it and got the engine going to cool down the interior before I got in.

  “Way to be vague, dude,” he said, watching me closely but still grinning.

  “I only got in a little under a week ago, but I’ve been here before.” I didn’t want to give too much away. There was a lot of bad blood toward my father in town, and a small matter of an EPA investigation to bear in mind.

  “Cool. It’s a great town for a vacation.” He nodded at the supplies on the back of my truck. “Fiona mentioned that you were building a boat.”

  Fiona. So that was her name. It suited her. Fiona.

  “Yeah, it’s a hobby. I figured I’d spend some time building a new one while I’m out here. Perfect boating weather and all.”

  “That’s true. You chose a great time of year for that. So, you’re a boating hobbyist, too, huh?” He stared out over the water for a second before adding, “Small world.”

  I had no idea what he meant by that, but it made sense that a local like him would be into it. “You build, too?”

  “Nah, I’ve never had much patience for building the boat before I could get on it.” He chuckled. “Or get with someone in it.”

  “It does take a singular kind of patience to get it perfect, but it’s always worth it in the end,” I agreed, avoiding his second comment.

  I built for me. It was too personal a hobby as far as I was concerned. I had never shared anything that I’d built with anyone but my parents.

  “Yeah, the patience is more Fee’s thing than mine,” he said, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his boot.

  Jealously roiled in my stomach again. “So, she’s your girl? Fiona?”

  That earned me a hoot of easy-going laughter that didn’t let up for a full minute. He managed to shake his head while the laughter subsided. “Fuck no!”

  “What’s so funny about that?” I asked.

  The girl had a mouth-watering body and a heart-stopping smile. Fuck, I’d only known her a week, and I’d already fantasized about her. It didn’t seem like a stretch that a guy who worked with her would be involved with her.

  “Fiona’s been my friend since we were born, and my best friend since she moved here when she was seven years old. She’s like my sister, which would make hooking up with her incest. So, no, she’s not my girl. Not in that way.”

  The knot that had been forming in my stomach relaxed. At least the one relating to jealousy did. The EPA investigation was still weighing heavily on me.

  “You two are close, then?” I asked.

  “We’re the closest.” He nodded. “She’s the best.”

  I stayed quiet, murmuring a decidedly noncommittal “Hmm.”

  “She thinks you’re hot,” he blurted out.

  My eyes widened to the size of saucers. “She told y
ou that?”

  “She didn’t have to, man. I mentioned that she’s been my best friend since we were seven, right?” He looked in the direction of the hardware store as if he was checking if he’d been caught betraying her confidence. Then he shifted uncomfortably. “You won’t tell her I told you, will you?”

  “Are we in fucking middle school? I won’t tell her a thing. You say she thinks I’m hot, but she hates my fucking guts.” I stuck my arm into the truck to test the temperature. I was ready to get the hell out of there.

  “She doesn’t hate your guts, dude. She’s fiery, sure, but she doesn’t hate people right off the cuff. She’s way too compassionate for that.” He shook his head.

  Fiery was my thing, but hostility wasn’t.

  “Are we talking about the same girl from the hardware store? She stands about this high.” I held out my hand. “Dark hair?”

  “Bluest eyes you’ve ever seen? Yeah, we are. That’s Fiona. Also, I know this because I saw you two together, and here’s the kicker, she’s the only girl who works there with me.” Waggling his brows, he added jokingly, “Maybe you guys should get together. You’d make the cutest babies.”

  My stomach lurched. Yeah, I had to get the hell out of there. “I’m not interested in that, but thanks for the suggestion.”

  Whoever the guy was, he doubled over laughing again and gave me a halfhearted wave as he kneeled to toss his cigarette stub in the garbage and walked back to the store.

  About halfway there, he turned back to me. “You’re not her type anyway. Not really.”

  He disappeared through the side door of the store, leaving me trying to wrap my head around that conversation.

  Not her type, huh? I begged to fucking differ.

  Chapter Five

  Fiona

  Bright sunlight shined in my eyes as I stood behind the store and watched the delivery guy wheel in new boxes of paint cans. I shaded my face with my hand and glanced down at the delivery invoice. This was a big order, and every can of paint needed to be put out on the shelves.

  It was renovation season in Mystic, since the weather was good, and our stock turnover was evidence of it. I signed the invoice and went back inside, grateful to be back in the air conditioning.

  The next few days of restocking supplies would be backbreaking work, but I was ecstatic for the owner, Adrian, who I knew had been worrying about the store’s survival. The urbanization of towns nearby brought in larger chain stores like Home Depot that could afford cheaper prices closer to our town. But I lamented the days where I could sit around watching Netflix on an old tablet with Drew, while the hours ticked by without a customer in sight.

  You’re lucky to even have this job, I reminded myself.

  Drew had gotten me in with the owner when I’d been in high school. My dad hated the idea of me working, but he’d been appeased by the fact that I would be working with Drew. He also didn’t have much of a choice since money had always been tight in our household. Even a modest job like this made a huge difference in my life.

  It was why I loved the store so much. Well, that, and my internal sense of duty and loyalty. The owner of the store had given me a chance when I’d been inexperienced and without hope. For that, he would have my eternal gratitude.

  The bell above the door jingled, and even though I couldn’t see the front door, I was almost certain the cocky stranger had just walked in. Maybe it was the steady sound of his heavy footsteps, or maybe the subconscious part of my brain caught a whiff of his pheromones wafting through the air. Whatever it was, I knew it was him.

  I headed to the front of the store and confirmed my instincts.

  “What can I help you with today?” I asked, pulling my stepladder to the shelf. I’d learned my lesson about heavy containers and high shelves, thanks to said maddening guy.

  He suppressed a laugh as he took in my stepladder but his voice was deceptively calm. “I needed more nuts.”

  “Pity we only sell the metal variety here. Try the adult shop down the road.” If I’d given any thought to the words before they were out of my mouth, I would have choked on them.

  What the hell does this guy do to me?

  His eyes widened in shock, and his mouth curved into a slow smile. “I’m looking for the ones of the metal variety, actually. The other kind would only get in the way of the hammer.”

  “In that case, try aisle two,” I stammered, unbearably embarrassed at my outburst. I didn’t want him to see the flush on my cheeks, so I carefully inspected the label on a can of paint and let my hair form a curtain on the side of my face.

  “You’re not going to come silently judge me?” He had moved closer to my back. I could feel the heat from his chest but I refused to turn around.

  “Nope, busy,” I squeaked.

  He was silent for a long moment. “Where’s your friend?”

  His question caught me by surprise. I whipped around. “Drew?”

  Something sparked in his eyes when he noticed the rosy hue on my cheeks. “Is he the dark-haired one who smokes?”

  I wrinkled my nose but answered in a lecturing tone without thinking. Knowing Drew was as easy as breathing to me. “He only smokes when he’s stressed, bored, or horny.” I clapped my hand over my mouth and burst out laughing uncontrollably. “Don’t tell him that I told you about that last part.”

  “For people who claim to be as close as the two of you, there sure is a lot of ‘don’t tell,’” he remarked dryly.

  I was wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, only stilling when the meaning of his words filtered into my brain. “What do you mean? How do you know Drew?”

  “We talked the other day outside the diner when he was having a smoke. He told me that you and I should get together.” He said it as if it were a matter of fact.

  God, no. He had to know that Drew had been joking. He had to have been, but it looked like he enjoyed pushing my buttons and checking my reaction. That was Drew’s doing as well. I made a mental note to steal his ice cream when he got back.

  I flushed a deep shade of red under the cocky stranger’s gaze, confirmed by the mirror on the fridge in the far corner of the room. I looked equal measures like I was about to kill someone or I wanted to crawl under the counter in embarrassment.

  Because of him, the green-eyed god of annoyance and body betrayal was staring back at me unashamedly.

  “Drew told you we should get together?” I choked, hesitating before I asked.

  “Yeah. He also mentioned that we would have the cutest babies,” he said, his tone mocking but dark.

  My eyes nearly popped out of my head, and he watched as a multitude of emotions passed over my features, none of which were joyous or pleasant. “Fucker.”

  “Is that a command or a request?”

  My eyes bugged even more. He had to be messing with me.

  “Neither,” I told him, reaching for a can of paint and turning my back, effectively ending the conversation.

  As if on instinct, he bent down to help me. That damn gentleman thing that I hated kicked in again. Only, he reached down just as I was rising and his bicep brushed against my breast, causing both of us to stop breathing for a second.

  We froze. The air between us crackled. Electricity buzzed over my skin where it had grazed his. It wasn’t fucking normal.

  Mystic was finally living up to its name, as far as I was concerned. I jumped away from him, and he stepped back as if he had felt that dangerous current, too.

  “You sure we shouldn’t get together?” he asked. Probably as a way to ease the sudden tension.

  “No. I can’t believe that he told you that. I need to be a better wing woman to him. He needs to butt out of my life, and maybe finding him a girl will help with that.” I glared at him. Drew would be getting a solid earful as soon as tall, medium, and irritating left.

  He moved up behind me, reaching for the can of paint I was hoisting. His arms went around my waist, lingering before they lifted it to the shelf.

  N
either us moved to break contact that time. My breath caught in my lungs from the feel of his broad chest behind me. His clean, masculine scent enveloped me.

  He was close enough for me to make out hints of ocean and pine and something else in his smell. Along with something absurdly him. The absurdity stemmed from the fact that I didn’t even know his name. But somehow, I seemed to think that I knew his smell.

  The heat between us was unmistakable, though. It was a hypnotic feeling that drew me closer to him, my womanhood aching. I hadn’t ever been turned on that fast, without so much as a word and barely a touch.

  The next moment, his breath was on my ear. “What do you say? Want to give us a chance?”

  “Fiona, where’s that good-for-nothing friend of yours?” Adrian, the owner, interrupted us.

  I jumped away from the cocky stranger like his skin had caught fire. My own cheeks burned with embarrassment at Adrian walking in on me like this. He might not care about me getting cozy with a customer, but I cared. It was inappropriate.

  At the same time, Adrian’s interruption bothered me for another reason. Whatever had been happening between me and the cocky stranger, I hadn’t been ready for it to stop. As much as I had always liked Adrian, I wanted to rip out his voice box in that moment.

  The good-natured grin on his face was exactly why I liked him, though. He was a genuinely good guy who loved Drew almost as much as I did and indulged the cigarette breaks that he took and the ice cream runs that I sent him on without question.

  He knew that we both worked hard, so he didn’t micromanage us. Until he saw me nestled up to a customer, he had never so much as furrowed a brow at me. Adrian eyed me curiously but didn’t say anything about it.

  “I, uh...” I wasn’t quite sure if I was answering Adrian or tall, medium, and irritating, so I shut my trap and tried to gather my thoughts.

  “Ah, well, I’m sure he’ll be back with ice cream in a jiffy,” Adrian said. “Could you come help me with inventory while he’s out?”

  “Sure. Be there in a second,” I said once I’d caught my breath.

  Adrian turned and walked back to the storeroom, leaving me with a really awkward flush and an ache between my legs that absolutely should not have been there.