Always His: (Second Chances #3)

by Amelia Wilde

  I spend five of them checking my phone, hastily answering a few emails, and then it’s time to go in and meet Mr. Calley.

  Inside the main building, there’s a lobby area with six seats and what looks like a wide new desk, behind which sits a middle-aged woman with dark curly hair. Her face lights up when she sees me come in. They must not get many visitors, or else she really likes being the public face of Cerberus Cement.

  “Well, hi there.” Her voice is bubbly but strong. “You must be Samantha Kennedy, with Ryder & Bloom.”

  “That’s me.” I can’t help returning her smile, but she doesn’t stop there. Before I’m even at the desk, she’s bustling out from behind it and extending her hand to shake mine. I do. “And you must be—”

  “Brenda.”

  “Yes, Brenda. We spoke on the phone.”

  “Yes, we did!” She hustles back around to the other side of the desk and picks up the phone. “I’m going to let him know you’re here.”

  She waits for a moment, then says, “Mr. Calley, Samantha Kennedy is here for you.” There’s a pause. “Absolutely. Absolutely.” Then she hangs up the phone.

  “He’s going to be just a minute. Can I offer you anything to drink? We have water, Diet Coke, lemonade…”

  Normally I would refuse, but my mouth has been dry since I crossed the city limits, and I don’t think it would reflect very well on Ryder & Bloom to have to croak my way through this entire meeting. “A water would be great.”

  Brenda reaches down below the desk and there’s a click as she pulls open what has to be some kind of mini-fridge. She hands the chilled bottle of water over to me with a grin, and then she comes back around the desk to usher me to one of the seats. “Make yourself comfortable. That must have been a long drive—four hours, right?”

  I uncap the bottle and take a long sip, nodding at her. “Four hours, yes. Today the traffic was a little heavy, so that added about ten minutes, and then with stops it’s—”

  I have no idea why I’m telling her this, so it’s almost a relief to be interrupted by a man’s voice booming across the small lobby.

  “Ms. Kennedy!”

  I stand up, almost losing the bottle to the forces of gravity, but collect myself in time to turn around. “Mr. Calley.”

  He’s coming in for a handshake, a short man, salt-and-pepper hair, with a big smile that doesn’t quite seem genuine, and I shake his hand and let go of his grasp as quickly as possible.

  “It’s great to finally meet in person,” he says, even though I’m not sure that we’ve communicated by email…or phone…or anything before today.

  “It absolutely is.”

  He leans in like he’s going to tell me a secret. “I hope you still like me when you find out.”

  I raise my eyebrows, keeping the smile on my face. “About what?”

  “The plans for the project, Ms. Kennedy. We want to change all of them.”

  Chapter Four

  Beckett

  Thanks to yours truly, nobody had to waste any extra time due to Jacobs’ dumbass move on Tuesday. The only thing worse than somebody getting injured during production is losing time to shit like that.

  But I’m pretty sure that’s not why I have to stop at the office to pick up my check.

  That only happens when they’re giving out bonuses, and nobody else is heading this way at the end of the Friday afternoon shift.

  I head down the hall into the offices of Cerberus Cement, where the noise from the factory proper is nothing but a whisper. In here, you wouldn’t even know that it was happening until it stopped. The space between my shoulders tenses. Who the fuck knows—maybe they’re about to fire me. As far as I know, nobody saw me going against safety regulations and jumping between the catwalks, and I had a pretty damn good excuse.

  Jacobs has been out for the last few days, too, which must mean there was something else going on with that guy. I don’t have time to dwell on that, though. I’ve got a full night of drinking planned ahead for me tonight at the bar. Fired or not, it’s still payday.

  I steel myself for the sight of Eva, who works the desk in the personnel department.

  As soon as she sees me when I enter the office, she greets me with a big smile that puts a funny ache in my chest. Her hair is the same shade as Sam’s. I can’t come in here without her name echoing in my head, without memories of the soft, smooth skin at her waist curving down to her hips taking over my thoughts. “Beck. Right on time.”

  Shit. It’s happening again.

  “Hey, Eva, how’s it going?”

  “Great. I’m so glad it’s Friday, aren’t you?” She’s wearing a cardigan over a sundress, and as she speaks, she leans forward onto the counter between us. “It’s going to be so nice out tonight.”

  “Yeah.” I’m not a nice guy. I pick up women in the bar on a regular basis and then conveniently forget their phone numbers after a one-night stand. Messing with Eva like that is not on my agenda, not now, not ever, and the way she’s flirting with me right now puts a cold pit in my stomach. I don’t want a knock-off. I want— “I got a note that I should pick up my check here. Do you have it?”

  Eva’s usually the one who holds the checks when they’ve decided not to direct deposit, and even though that usually means a bonus, it strikes me as complete bullshit that they make you walk all the way over here to pick it up.

  She frowns. “Actually, I don’t. Mr. Greenfield said that he would be here to meet—oh, here he is!” She smiles over my shoulder, and I turn to see Cliff Greenfield, the manager above Ward. He’s got an indulgent smile on his face that makes me want to roll my eyes out of my damn head, but he’s coming at me with his hand extended to shake, so I don’t really have another option.

  “Beckett Taylor,” he says, and thank God, because now we both know what my name is.

  “Mr. Greenfield.”

  He steps back and looks me up and down, and I’m not sure what the hell that’s for. I need to scrub the fine particles of leftover dust off my face. I need a fucking shower. A real shower, and not with the shit soap they have in the locker room. The sooner we could get this little ceremony over with, the better.

  “Well, I wanted to take a minute to congratulate you.” This guy is looking satisfied as hell, and I have no idea why. Then he pulls an envelope out of his pocket and hands it to me. It’s about the size and shape of a paycheck. “On behalf of all of us at Cerberus Cement, we’d like to thank you for your dedication.”

  What the—

  “You’re…welcome.” I don’t know what the hell else to say, but Greenfield is looking at me like it’s my turn to make a speech. What is this about?

  “Three years today, and we hope you stay on another three years, Mr. Taylor. You’ve been a great asset to Cerberus.”

  Well, thanks for finally throwing me a fucking bone. Three years at this place, and all I can see when I look into the future is three more years here. As long as Ward doesn’t catch me saving the day by risking my damn neck. Even then, even if I got fired, what the hell would change? Nothing. I’ll just go to another factory somewhere else, another plant.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” This has got to be the most awkward fucking conversation in history.

  “Of course, we hope you’ll consider applying for some of our management roles. It’s unusual with someone of your level of education to remain on the floor this long.” Then Greenfield winks at me. “Think about it. I know we’ve got some positions opening up in the next month, and your name would be highly regarded.”

  “Great. I will.” When can I get the hell out of here? I force a smile onto my face and put the envelope into my pocket.

  “Have a great weekend, Mr. Taylor.”

  Then Greenfield, in his fancy-ass slacks and button-down, disappears into the hallway, leaving me standing there with Eva.

  “Congratulations, Beck.”

  I give her a look. “Three years working at a cement plant. A real achievement.”

  She c
ocks her head to the side. “It is. It’s really good.”

  Sam never would have been impressed with this kind of shit.

  “All right. See you around.”

  “Bye, Beck.”

  I get out of there before she can say anything else.

  I have to go back out through the administrative offices to get to the employee parking area located around the side of the complex, and my boots are loud on the industrial carpet. I want to get the fuck out of these work clothes and into the bar, and as fast as possible. The extra money in my pocket is a reward for wasting my goddamn life, but I don’t deserve anything more than that. I don’t fucking deserve recognition.

  I’m almost to the entrance when a woman steps out of the office suite that the owner, Calley, stays in when he’s here, which isn’t often, according to people like Ward. I wouldn’t know. I’m not on that level. Thank God. She comes out right in front of me, so close that I almost run into her, and she’s saying something back through the open doorway.

  “—I’ll be here on Monday to review what we’ve—oh!”

  She whirls around as I step away, just avoiding a collision, and when her green eyes meet mine, my heart stops. Just stops, like I’ve been hit by a car.

  I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her.

  Because it’s Sam.

  Chapter Five

  Samantha

  “I’ll be here on Monday to review what we’ve—oh!”

  It’s been a long four hours, so I’m backing out of Mr. Calley’s offices with a huge smile and a desperate heart. There’s a movement in the air next to me, and someone steps out of the way, their footfalls loud on the carpet, and my body jerks me out of the way even though we didn’t actually collide.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, hating the words even as they come out of my mouth. I swore this would be the year when I stopped apologizing automatically, but the follow-up “excuse me” dies on my lips as my heart leaps into my throat.

  The man in front of me doesn’t look like the Beck Taylor I used to know. This man has three days’ worth of stubble and muscles so firm they’re shaping the t-shirt he’s wearing with jeans running thin at the knees. The cut jaw belongs to a man, not a twenty-year-old kid, and so do the rough calloused hands.

  It’s his eyes that I’d know anywhere. A light blue that’s hard like a winter sky but deep like the ocean.

  Beck.

  My stomach does a slow turn inside my gut. Every breath is a struggle, my throat tight and hot, but I can’t look away. I don’t ever want to look away. Heat cascades down from the back of my neck, and I’m thankful as hell that my hair is pulled up in a bun, because I’d have to lift it away and fan myself if it wasn’t.

  Holy God, he looks good. He looks better than good, and there’s an electric hum between my legs that I can’t ignore. His gaze is an arrow piercing right beneath the professional cover I’ve put on for this meeting. The shield crumbles like it was made of dry sand. I can’t look away, but half of me wants to run.

  He still hasn’t said anything.

  And then he does.

  “Sam.”

  It’s one word, but the impact is like a boulder dropping into a pond. It’s his voice, a little rougher now, and with an edge to it that I only recognize from the bitter end of us.

  “Hi, Beck.” My voice is barely above a whisper, and I can feel my cheeks flame. I never imagined that I would see Beck again, but I resolved a long time ago that if I ever ran into him, I would be confident as hell, so self-assured, so over what happened, even if it still kills me in the secret parts of my soul. And here I am, whispering like a shy kid, standing in front of this masterpiece of a human body.

  What is he doing here? Can he possibly work here? I can tell by the water droplets in his hair that he’s just showered recently, but there’s no soapy scent coming off of him. He’s not coming from a company gym, then, if they even have one. Is he actually working in the plant? The cement plant, with his college degree? I’ve got nothing against a job like that. My dad worked at another manufacturing company here for years. I just never thought that Beck would—

  “I was on my way out.”

  It’s a complete shutdown, and part of my heart dies another little death, but my mouth starts moving without permission from my brain. “Oh—me, too. Are you…were you here for work?”

  “Yeah,” he says, and his mouth curls in a grin that doesn’t look happy at all. “Yeah, I work at the cement plant. I’m only here because I got a little bonus for being here so long.” The edge in his voice is clear now, obvious, present in the air between us, and it cuts like a knife. He’s angry, but I don’t know about what.

  “Well, that’s—that’s nice.” I’m really trying. I really don’t know what to say. This is not playing out at all how I imagined it, and another flood of memories cascades down over me. Beck’s arms wrapped around me from behind, Beck’s hand tight on mine, driving through the dark to the hospital, the sharp clench of his jaw in the lights from the car stereo.

  “I don’t know if I’d call it nice.” He delivers this commentary with a smirk, but his eyes never leave mine.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a bonus for my third year of work in a row. Don’t play dumb.”

  I don’t know why he’s being such a dick, but I can’t get myself together enough to do anything about it, and another wave of heat crashes into my face.

  “I’m not playing dumb.” I hear the tension in the words, but I can’t brush this off. I can feel my own jaw clenching, getting ready for a fight.

  Something changes in Beck’s face, a softening around his eyes. It’s not much. I should turn around, I should get the hell out of here and not come back, but I stand my ground.

  Desire bolts through my chest, despite the embarrassed color in my cheeks, despite the fact that I feel like I’m withering away in front of him. It wasn’t my fault we broke up. It wasn’t even really his fault. There are some things that just happen. Beck doesn’t seem to realize that, still, or else he’s had a bad day. It’s possible every day here is a bad day. My dad had plenty of them.

  “No, you’re right.” He runs a hand through his hair, and his eyes flicker down over my body, then back up to my face. “I’m sorry.”

  The apology doesn’t come easy for him. I can see it. But it’s an opening, a crack in the door, and I can’t help but lunge for it. I know I shouldn’t. I know I should stay far, far away from Beck Taylor and everything he represents about my past. But I shove my foot into that crack anyway.

  “It’s okay.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Long day?”

  “Long year.” It’s been long for me, too. And the year before that, and the year before that.

  The silence crackles between us, and I have to make a conscious effort to keep my hands to myself. I have never wanted to touch someone as badly as I want to touch Beck right now. I’ve never been so captivated by another person, not before him, and not since.

  He breaks the silence, shaking his head. “This is not how I thought this would play out.”

  Chapter Six

  Beckett

  I don’t know why the words come out of my mouth. It’s the last thing I want to admit—that I had ever thought about this possibility, that I’d ever spent any time imagining how things would go between us if our paths ever crossed again. And here I am, admitting it like a damn fool. What’s it going to do for me? What’s it going to do for her? Nothing.

  It’s like the hallway is closing in, forcing us closer together, even though I know it’s not, and so I blurt out that asinine sentence. If she didn’t think I was a fucking idiot before, she does now.

  My chest goes tight and hot.

  This is all a fucking coincidence, a freak accident of time and space, and I’m crashing and burning, pissed off and quickly losing control.

  Because the truth that I can’t ignore, the truth that’s hitting me over the head, over and over and over, is that I still want
her.

  The sight of her is like a drug I’ve been craving for months. I want to run my fingers through her blonde hair, twist it in my hands, tilt her head back. I want to put my lips against the pulse in her throat and lick downward to her collarbone. I want to push her up against the wall and kiss her like I’ve never kissed anyone in my life, hotter and harder than I’ve even kissed her, and I don’t give a damn who sees. I don’t give a damn who’s watching.

  All of it roils in my gut.

  “It’s not how I imagined it, either.”

  Sam’s voice is soft, and her eyes are still blue pools of pain, but her words cut deep. It’s like a brick crashing through glass in the middle of downtown, the shards flying in every direction, onto the sidewalk, onto the road.

  So I’m not the only one who’s thought about what might happen if we saw one another again.

  Sam hasn’t looked away from me, and her eyes are still locked on mine, still covered with a sheen that she couldn’t hide from me even if she tried. God fucking help me if this goes any further, if she bites her lip, if her chin quivers, if even one tear spills out of those beautiful eyes and onto the smooth surface of her cheek. If that happens, I won’t be able to keep my hands off her.

  I don’t know how long we’ve been talking, but I finally register what she’s wearing—professional slacks that hug the curves of her legs and a blue shirt with buttons down the front, the collar ironed to sharp points.

  She didn’t come here to see me.

  Did she?

  “What are you doing here?”

  It comes out with a sharp edge, but there’s nothing I can do to smooth it. Being this close to her, breathing in the subtle scent of her shampoo, is lighting my entire body on fire. My cock strains against the fabric of my jeans, pulses with the heat that’s ricocheting through every nerve ending.