Building storm, p.6
Building Storm, page 6
Sex. Release. Carefree living. That’s my future. One that doesn’t give me any stress. One that can’t hurt me.
Yet, those stormy blue eyes flash before me again.
Jesus.
I’m losing it if I can’t get a woman I don’t even know out of my mind and am ignoring a very real flesh and blood woman out by the pool who is clearly interested. The way my cock was straining against my pants Saturday night was a stark reminder of how long it’s been since I had sex.
That party back home was weeks ago. After my life imploded, the city that has been my home for my entire life had started to feel foreign, more like a prison, and no amount of trying to fuck away the pain changed that in the weeks I stayed, living in limbo. That’s precisely why I needed to leave. A fresh start.
I never expected I’d meet someone like Storm. Or what a number she would do on me in such a short time.
6
STORM
The elevator dings, and I step out on the second floor of Matthews Construction. Polished wood floors gleam in the overhead lights, and the high ceilings and nature landscapes lining the walls welcome me.
I used to love this building. I should. It’s one of my babies.
So beautiful and strong. Regal.
It doesn’t have the appearance of a typical office building. Ben didn’t want that. He wanted unique. A place that not only showed off his skills as a contractor, but also mine as an architect.
But now, I can’t stand to set foot in here. My throat tightens and breaths come harder. Everywhere I look, I see him. I see us.
It’s one more reminder of everything I lost, and being here puts me on edge. I swipe my sweaty palms along my skirt and swallow back the bile threatening to rise in my throat just by being in the hallway.
Hold it together, Storm. Get in. Get out. Never come back.
Climbing back in my car and driving home to Angel as fast as I can sounds like the ideal plan, but I told Chris I would come even though I knew it meant entering here for only the second time since Ben died.
I didn’t have the heart to clean out his office myself, and I asked Chris to do it. But I know he hasn’t touched anything other than to go in and grab a few things for me. The only time I’ve been in the building at all was to pick up the box Chris put together for me of a few family photos and some paperwork I needed.
Now the door at the end of the hallway beckons me, but I can’t go in. Ben’s office is just too…personal. I can’t bear to be in there without him, to be enveloped by his scent, by everything that’s his. I wouldn’t be able to keep it together, and I need to make it through this meeting so I can get home to Angel. I already feel bad enough leaving her with Dani while I’m here. There’s no need to drag anything out.
Get in. Get out.
The door to Chris’ office stands ajar, and I make my way to it, using every single ounce of my willpower to stop myself from again staring at the door at the end of the hall where I spent so much time with Ben.
I knock and push the door open all the way. “Hey, are you ready for me?”
Chris spins around from his computer and offers me a huge smile. “Storm! Yes. Thank you so much for coming.”
He rises, and I take in his khaki pants and button-down shirt. He always did dress just as casually as Ben even though he spent most of his time dealing with clients in the office and not out at sites. One of the perks of being self-employed.
When Ben told me he wanted to offer Chris part ownership in the business, I was leery at first. He worked for Ben from day one, and he was reliable and a crazy hard worker. But this was Ben’s baby. Sharing it with anyone else felt so wrong. Now, I can’t imagine Chris not being a part of it. He’s been a godsend since Ben died.
“Where’s your brother?”
I want to get things rolling here.
Chris envelops me in a tight hug and then motions toward one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. “He just stepped down the hall to take a phone call. He should be back in a minute or two.”
Too long.
He gives me a soft smile that says more than words ever could. The pity and the concern are there. After this much time, it’s so easy to spot them. “So, how have you been?”
That’s a loaded question, and he knows it.
Nothing has been easy the last six months. Even breathing feels like a chore some days. But people don’t want to hear that. People want you to smile and tell them things are fine and that you are doing well. They want to hear that you are picking up the pieces of your life and trying to move on from the tragedy.
Mistake #7,435—not doing that.
It’s not that I’m not trying. I am. I really, really am. It’s just not that easy. And I know Chris knows that. He’s been Ben’s best friend since college. The three of us spent four years together, drinking, studying, working.
Chris has suffered a loss, too. So, the question, coming from him, means a hell of a lot more than it does coming from just about anyone else. He wants the real answer, and talking about what’s going on is almost as hard as living each day without my husband.
“It’s been…”
His amber eyes watch me expectantly.
“…hard. If I’m being honest.”
He frowns slightly and nods. “I understand completely. How is Angel handling things?”
The last time Chris and I talked, it was almost two months ago, and Angel still wasn’t sleeping at night. She kept asking for her daddy and wanting him to tuck her in.
How do you get a five-year-old to understand her daddy is never coming back?
It’s been a constant struggle to keep her on track every day and moving forward while also distracting her from my grief.
She doesn’t need to see her mother breaking down on an endless loop. And I haven’t hidden everything. It was impossible.
I do my best to keep things positive for her. She spends time with Mom and Dani and Kennedy—people who are always so upbeat and happy. She needs happy, and the Hawke family has rallied around us like I knew they would. Anything we need, someone is there with it almost before I ask. The only problem is, that doesn’t bring her daddy back.
“She’s doing a little better. She doesn’t ask for him as much anymore, and the sleepless nights are to a minimum. But she doesn’t have that sparkle in her eye like she used to. She misses him.”
I miss him.
Chris nods solemnly and clasps his hands on top of his desk. “You know you can call me at any time if you need anything, don’t you? If you want me to take her out or something. I know you have your brothers and Gabe to help, but if you need anything…”
I appreciate his gesture. I do. Having a male role model and father figure in Angel’s life is important to me, and I’ve been going out of my way to make sure she spends time with Savage and Gabe.
Things with Stone are still a bit…tense. I love him, and I regret the harsh words I used the other day, but his actions can’t be so easily forgotten. Deep down, the logical part of me knows he didn’t cause the fire. Dom would have done it to send a message to the Hawkes, even if Stone hadn’t been working for him. But knowing Stone kept such a huge secret from us, and that he chose to work for Dom through all the bullshit that was happening, has left a sour taste in my mouth and a crack in my heart.
How can I trust him after everything he did?
I can’t. Not yet. So, Angel hasn’t been seeing much of Uncle Stone, even though I’m sure he’s more than willing to step up and help.
None of it replaces Ben, though. No one could.
“I appreciate that offer, Chris. Really.”
Footsteps echo down the hallway, and Chris looks up to the open door. “Oh good, you’re here.”
“Yes, sorry to keep you waiting.”
That voice.
Goose bumps pebble across my skin, and my face heats. The familiar scent of something crisp and fresh, like clean linens and the ocean hits my nose along with a tidal wave of memories.
Warm, strong arms around me.
Laughter.
A moment of joy.
A few seconds when the world…and all the painful parts of it…melted away.
It can’t be.
I shift in my chair until I’m facing the door, and all hope I’m mistaken flies out the window when my eyes land on the one man I hoped I’d never see again.
Bourbon eyes that have haunted my dreams stare back at me, and my lungs seize in my chest.
LANDON
“Landon, this is Storm Matthews. Storm, this is my brother, Landon. You two haven’t met before, have you?”
His eyes flick between me and Storm, probably trying to figure out the bewildered look that must be on my face. The same one Storm sports.
You have got to be kidding me.
Of all the ways I had imagined trying to track down Storm, I never, in a million years, thought she would end up being Chris’ business partner. Over the years, he always referred to her as “Ben’s wife” if he was talking about them, plus, I really didn’t pay much attention. But I would have remembered a name like Storm. And if I had known her name, I’m sure things would have clicked into place the other night.
As it is, I’m standing with my mouth agape, like a total moron, while Chris stares at me, and Storm tries to avoid making eye contact. She twists her hands together on her lap and shifts in her seat.
I shake my head at Chris and do my best to school my features. I need to let Storm lead here, and there’s no way she will want Chris to know she was at that party. That goes without saying the way her body language is screaming please no.
“Uh, no. We haven’t met.”
Talk about fucking awkward.
Although, I’ve been through far, far worse not so long ago. It’s one of the reasons I had to get out of that city I loved so much. People knew. Everyone knew. And the looks of pity I got were just too damn much. I didn’t want their pity. I wanted to be left the fuck alone to try to rebuild my life on my own terms.
Was that too much to ask?
I can only imagine it’s the same here for Storm. I won’t put her in an even worse situation by revealing what we shared.
I step forward and offer her my hand. She turns her head my direction without meeting my eyes and places her palm against mine. Images of our hands entwined on the dance floor flash through my mind as a jolt of electricity zings up my arm at the contact.
There it is again.
That charge. That energy vibrating between us that promises to combust if we were ever together. The thing that’s kept her at the forefront of my mind despite my best efforts to bury the memory.
My eyes drift to her left hand still resting on her lap.
Oh God. The ring. I’m such an asshole!
No wonder she freaked out and ran. I grilled her about her husband and home life. Of course, she wanted to get away from me and that conversation.
Although, that was after the whole husband line of questioning. Something else set her off and made her flee. Something that put a dark cloud over her blue eyes again after I had managed to remove it for a moment. I wish I knew what that was so I could make sure it never happens again.
The strange tingling in my arm finally alerts me I’ve been holding her hand inappropriately long, that and her surreptitiously trying to tug hers away.
Dammit.
I release her hand and plaster what I hope is a nonchalant smile on my face as I take the seat next to her facing Chris’ desk.
My knee bounces rapidly, and I cross my ankle over it to try to contain the movement. The last thing I need is for either Chris or Storm to catch on to how damn nervous I am. It was bad enough knowing this meeting will decide whether I relocate to New Orleans permanently or shove off to parts unknown to restart my life. Now throw Storm into the mix, and I’m a fucking wreck.
Keep your shit together and forget about having her in your arms.
Easier said than done.
All I can think about is how soft and warm she was cradled against me as we swayed to the music. How perfectly her body molded to mine. How her honeysuckle scent invaded my nostrils and lingered there for days after.
My cock stirs with the memories, and I shift back in my chair to ensure my wholly inappropriate response isn’t obvious.
Down boy.
Chris breaks the uncomfortable silence lingering in the room by clearing his throat. “Well, let’s get started, shall we?”
Storm seems to snap to attention, and she offers him a tight smile but doesn’t even peek my way. “Yes. So, you want to bring Landon in?”
Christ.
My name on her lips isn’t doing anything for this damn semi I have. I haven’t felt this out of control with my libido since I was in high school.
Dial it back, Landon.
I take a deep, cleansing breath and turn to Storm. “Yes. Ideally, I would come on to help manage all the projects so Chris can focus on the business end of things here.”
Her blue eyes flick over to me before she settles them back on Chris. “And you feel like you need him in order to keep things running smoothly?”
Straight to the point. No nonsense.
Fuck, that’s hot.
Chris nods and points to me. “He’s an amazing contractor. He oversees all our dad’s projects in Chicago, and I know he would do an amazing job here, too.”
“What about your dad? Doesn’t he need Landon there?”
Why does it feel like they’re talking about me and have forgotten I’m in the damn room?
Probably because Storm is doing everything in her power to ignore me.
“My father is just fine on his own.” My words come out a bit harsher than I intend, but it’s impossible for me to talk about him without wanting to tear something apart or rip his throat out.
I just hope Storm gets what I can do here and doesn’t let what happened between us affect her decision.
She finally permits her gaze to drift over to me, probably due to my outburst, and she frowns. My stomach tightens.
A light sigh slips from her lips, and she regards Chris again. “There isn’t anyone else currently employed here who can take over these responsibilities?”
Ouch.
She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed by her question.
How could she want me gone that badly? Was the other night really so terrible?
I embarrassed her with my questions—ones I never would have asked had I known who she was—but I thought we were having a nice time dancing together before she ran out like her dress was on fire.
Shit. Bad term to use.
Honestly though, I’m just confused about what’s happening here. Is she really trying to get rid of me? Or is she just being cautious about her late husband’s business, as she should be?
Am I reading too much into this?
My fate literally sits in her hands, and the woman can’t even make eye contact with me.
Shit.
That damn honeysuckle scent lingers in the air with her question. I inhale deeply, taking it in and savoring what is unquestionably the sexiest thing I’ve ever smelled. Everything about Storm is sexy, even when she’s sabotaging my career path. I can’t find it in my heart to be angry with her. She’s embarrassed about the other night and thinks having me thousands of miles away is the way to ensure she won’t have to address what I think is a very real connection we shared. She knows as well as I do that if we ever came together, the sex would be off the charts.
Well, I’m not about to let her torpedo this meeting.
Chris saves me from having to step in and defend myself. “No one who can do what Landon can. Are you uncomfortable with this?”
Storm takes longer than she should to consider his question, and I can practically see the cogs turning in her head. Her bottom lip disappears under her teeth, and she fidgets with her ring, spinning it around and around her finger.
Please…
Finally, she releases a sigh and shakes her head. “No, I’m just…I want to make sure we are doing what’s best for the company.”
And you.
I bite back the words. Storm is in self-preservation mode. And I guess I can’t blame her, considering everything. Having your life destroyed, no matter the means, leaves an indelible mark on you. She will never embrace me with open arms after what she’s been through.
I just wish my life and career didn’t hinge on a woman who apparently now hates my guts.
7
STORM
What the hell was I thinking?
Two days later, I still I can’t believe I said yes to Landon McCabe joining Matthews Construction.
It’s like inviting a thief into your house to ransack your things. The man is nothing but trouble for me, and I knew it the moment I stepped into his strong arms on that dance floor. It was confirmed when I placed my hand in his during the meeting and a jolt of something shot up my arm and straight down to my core.
I don’t react to men like that. I don’t react to men, period.
I can’t…
But I found myself blushing and unable to meet his eyes the entire meeting, like some shy schoolgirl sitting next to her crush instead of a widow who was there to do business.
Grow up, Storm.
Now, he’s going to be around. A lot. The only saving grace in the situation is that I am almost never at the Matthews Construction office. The only time I may have to see him is on projects I design and they build…like the new club building. But that’s almost complete, so if God is on my side here, I won’t have to come face to face with Landon anytime soon.
“Hey, Storm, are you with us?”
Caroline’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I’ve been staring at the open fridge for far too long.
The group scattered around my kitchen has undoubtedly noticed my bizarre behavior. I shift away from the fridge and let the door close so I can face the women who have been my rocks.
Skye stirs a pot of sauce on the stove while Dani slathers garlic butter on the loaf of bread in front of her on the counter. Caroline tosses back the wine in her glass and reaches for the bottle to refill it. Nora just examines me from her perch on one of the bar stools, her hand resting over her protruding belly.
Yet, those stormy blue eyes flash before me again.
Jesus.
I’m losing it if I can’t get a woman I don’t even know out of my mind and am ignoring a very real flesh and blood woman out by the pool who is clearly interested. The way my cock was straining against my pants Saturday night was a stark reminder of how long it’s been since I had sex.
That party back home was weeks ago. After my life imploded, the city that has been my home for my entire life had started to feel foreign, more like a prison, and no amount of trying to fuck away the pain changed that in the weeks I stayed, living in limbo. That’s precisely why I needed to leave. A fresh start.
I never expected I’d meet someone like Storm. Or what a number she would do on me in such a short time.
6
STORM
The elevator dings, and I step out on the second floor of Matthews Construction. Polished wood floors gleam in the overhead lights, and the high ceilings and nature landscapes lining the walls welcome me.
I used to love this building. I should. It’s one of my babies.
So beautiful and strong. Regal.
It doesn’t have the appearance of a typical office building. Ben didn’t want that. He wanted unique. A place that not only showed off his skills as a contractor, but also mine as an architect.
But now, I can’t stand to set foot in here. My throat tightens and breaths come harder. Everywhere I look, I see him. I see us.
It’s one more reminder of everything I lost, and being here puts me on edge. I swipe my sweaty palms along my skirt and swallow back the bile threatening to rise in my throat just by being in the hallway.
Hold it together, Storm. Get in. Get out. Never come back.
Climbing back in my car and driving home to Angel as fast as I can sounds like the ideal plan, but I told Chris I would come even though I knew it meant entering here for only the second time since Ben died.
I didn’t have the heart to clean out his office myself, and I asked Chris to do it. But I know he hasn’t touched anything other than to go in and grab a few things for me. The only time I’ve been in the building at all was to pick up the box Chris put together for me of a few family photos and some paperwork I needed.
Now the door at the end of the hallway beckons me, but I can’t go in. Ben’s office is just too…personal. I can’t bear to be in there without him, to be enveloped by his scent, by everything that’s his. I wouldn’t be able to keep it together, and I need to make it through this meeting so I can get home to Angel. I already feel bad enough leaving her with Dani while I’m here. There’s no need to drag anything out.
Get in. Get out.
The door to Chris’ office stands ajar, and I make my way to it, using every single ounce of my willpower to stop myself from again staring at the door at the end of the hall where I spent so much time with Ben.
I knock and push the door open all the way. “Hey, are you ready for me?”
Chris spins around from his computer and offers me a huge smile. “Storm! Yes. Thank you so much for coming.”
He rises, and I take in his khaki pants and button-down shirt. He always did dress just as casually as Ben even though he spent most of his time dealing with clients in the office and not out at sites. One of the perks of being self-employed.
When Ben told me he wanted to offer Chris part ownership in the business, I was leery at first. He worked for Ben from day one, and he was reliable and a crazy hard worker. But this was Ben’s baby. Sharing it with anyone else felt so wrong. Now, I can’t imagine Chris not being a part of it. He’s been a godsend since Ben died.
“Where’s your brother?”
I want to get things rolling here.
Chris envelops me in a tight hug and then motions toward one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. “He just stepped down the hall to take a phone call. He should be back in a minute or two.”
Too long.
He gives me a soft smile that says more than words ever could. The pity and the concern are there. After this much time, it’s so easy to spot them. “So, how have you been?”
That’s a loaded question, and he knows it.
Nothing has been easy the last six months. Even breathing feels like a chore some days. But people don’t want to hear that. People want you to smile and tell them things are fine and that you are doing well. They want to hear that you are picking up the pieces of your life and trying to move on from the tragedy.
Mistake #7,435—not doing that.
It’s not that I’m not trying. I am. I really, really am. It’s just not that easy. And I know Chris knows that. He’s been Ben’s best friend since college. The three of us spent four years together, drinking, studying, working.
Chris has suffered a loss, too. So, the question, coming from him, means a hell of a lot more than it does coming from just about anyone else. He wants the real answer, and talking about what’s going on is almost as hard as living each day without my husband.
“It’s been…”
His amber eyes watch me expectantly.
“…hard. If I’m being honest.”
He frowns slightly and nods. “I understand completely. How is Angel handling things?”
The last time Chris and I talked, it was almost two months ago, and Angel still wasn’t sleeping at night. She kept asking for her daddy and wanting him to tuck her in.
How do you get a five-year-old to understand her daddy is never coming back?
It’s been a constant struggle to keep her on track every day and moving forward while also distracting her from my grief.
She doesn’t need to see her mother breaking down on an endless loop. And I haven’t hidden everything. It was impossible.
I do my best to keep things positive for her. She spends time with Mom and Dani and Kennedy—people who are always so upbeat and happy. She needs happy, and the Hawke family has rallied around us like I knew they would. Anything we need, someone is there with it almost before I ask. The only problem is, that doesn’t bring her daddy back.
“She’s doing a little better. She doesn’t ask for him as much anymore, and the sleepless nights are to a minimum. But she doesn’t have that sparkle in her eye like she used to. She misses him.”
I miss him.
Chris nods solemnly and clasps his hands on top of his desk. “You know you can call me at any time if you need anything, don’t you? If you want me to take her out or something. I know you have your brothers and Gabe to help, but if you need anything…”
I appreciate his gesture. I do. Having a male role model and father figure in Angel’s life is important to me, and I’ve been going out of my way to make sure she spends time with Savage and Gabe.
Things with Stone are still a bit…tense. I love him, and I regret the harsh words I used the other day, but his actions can’t be so easily forgotten. Deep down, the logical part of me knows he didn’t cause the fire. Dom would have done it to send a message to the Hawkes, even if Stone hadn’t been working for him. But knowing Stone kept such a huge secret from us, and that he chose to work for Dom through all the bullshit that was happening, has left a sour taste in my mouth and a crack in my heart.
How can I trust him after everything he did?
I can’t. Not yet. So, Angel hasn’t been seeing much of Uncle Stone, even though I’m sure he’s more than willing to step up and help.
None of it replaces Ben, though. No one could.
“I appreciate that offer, Chris. Really.”
Footsteps echo down the hallway, and Chris looks up to the open door. “Oh good, you’re here.”
“Yes, sorry to keep you waiting.”
That voice.
Goose bumps pebble across my skin, and my face heats. The familiar scent of something crisp and fresh, like clean linens and the ocean hits my nose along with a tidal wave of memories.
Warm, strong arms around me.
Laughter.
A moment of joy.
A few seconds when the world…and all the painful parts of it…melted away.
It can’t be.
I shift in my chair until I’m facing the door, and all hope I’m mistaken flies out the window when my eyes land on the one man I hoped I’d never see again.
Bourbon eyes that have haunted my dreams stare back at me, and my lungs seize in my chest.
LANDON
“Landon, this is Storm Matthews. Storm, this is my brother, Landon. You two haven’t met before, have you?”
His eyes flick between me and Storm, probably trying to figure out the bewildered look that must be on my face. The same one Storm sports.
You have got to be kidding me.
Of all the ways I had imagined trying to track down Storm, I never, in a million years, thought she would end up being Chris’ business partner. Over the years, he always referred to her as “Ben’s wife” if he was talking about them, plus, I really didn’t pay much attention. But I would have remembered a name like Storm. And if I had known her name, I’m sure things would have clicked into place the other night.
As it is, I’m standing with my mouth agape, like a total moron, while Chris stares at me, and Storm tries to avoid making eye contact. She twists her hands together on her lap and shifts in her seat.
I shake my head at Chris and do my best to school my features. I need to let Storm lead here, and there’s no way she will want Chris to know she was at that party. That goes without saying the way her body language is screaming please no.
“Uh, no. We haven’t met.”
Talk about fucking awkward.
Although, I’ve been through far, far worse not so long ago. It’s one of the reasons I had to get out of that city I loved so much. People knew. Everyone knew. And the looks of pity I got were just too damn much. I didn’t want their pity. I wanted to be left the fuck alone to try to rebuild my life on my own terms.
Was that too much to ask?
I can only imagine it’s the same here for Storm. I won’t put her in an even worse situation by revealing what we shared.
I step forward and offer her my hand. She turns her head my direction without meeting my eyes and places her palm against mine. Images of our hands entwined on the dance floor flash through my mind as a jolt of electricity zings up my arm at the contact.
There it is again.
That charge. That energy vibrating between us that promises to combust if we were ever together. The thing that’s kept her at the forefront of my mind despite my best efforts to bury the memory.
My eyes drift to her left hand still resting on her lap.
Oh God. The ring. I’m such an asshole!
No wonder she freaked out and ran. I grilled her about her husband and home life. Of course, she wanted to get away from me and that conversation.
Although, that was after the whole husband line of questioning. Something else set her off and made her flee. Something that put a dark cloud over her blue eyes again after I had managed to remove it for a moment. I wish I knew what that was so I could make sure it never happens again.
The strange tingling in my arm finally alerts me I’ve been holding her hand inappropriately long, that and her surreptitiously trying to tug hers away.
Dammit.
I release her hand and plaster what I hope is a nonchalant smile on my face as I take the seat next to her facing Chris’ desk.
My knee bounces rapidly, and I cross my ankle over it to try to contain the movement. The last thing I need is for either Chris or Storm to catch on to how damn nervous I am. It was bad enough knowing this meeting will decide whether I relocate to New Orleans permanently or shove off to parts unknown to restart my life. Now throw Storm into the mix, and I’m a fucking wreck.
Keep your shit together and forget about having her in your arms.
Easier said than done.
All I can think about is how soft and warm she was cradled against me as we swayed to the music. How perfectly her body molded to mine. How her honeysuckle scent invaded my nostrils and lingered there for days after.
My cock stirs with the memories, and I shift back in my chair to ensure my wholly inappropriate response isn’t obvious.
Down boy.
Chris breaks the uncomfortable silence lingering in the room by clearing his throat. “Well, let’s get started, shall we?”
Storm seems to snap to attention, and she offers him a tight smile but doesn’t even peek my way. “Yes. So, you want to bring Landon in?”
Christ.
My name on her lips isn’t doing anything for this damn semi I have. I haven’t felt this out of control with my libido since I was in high school.
Dial it back, Landon.
I take a deep, cleansing breath and turn to Storm. “Yes. Ideally, I would come on to help manage all the projects so Chris can focus on the business end of things here.”
Her blue eyes flick over to me before she settles them back on Chris. “And you feel like you need him in order to keep things running smoothly?”
Straight to the point. No nonsense.
Fuck, that’s hot.
Chris nods and points to me. “He’s an amazing contractor. He oversees all our dad’s projects in Chicago, and I know he would do an amazing job here, too.”
“What about your dad? Doesn’t he need Landon there?”
Why does it feel like they’re talking about me and have forgotten I’m in the damn room?
Probably because Storm is doing everything in her power to ignore me.
“My father is just fine on his own.” My words come out a bit harsher than I intend, but it’s impossible for me to talk about him without wanting to tear something apart or rip his throat out.
I just hope Storm gets what I can do here and doesn’t let what happened between us affect her decision.
She finally permits her gaze to drift over to me, probably due to my outburst, and she frowns. My stomach tightens.
A light sigh slips from her lips, and she regards Chris again. “There isn’t anyone else currently employed here who can take over these responsibilities?”
Ouch.
She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed by her question.
How could she want me gone that badly? Was the other night really so terrible?
I embarrassed her with my questions—ones I never would have asked had I known who she was—but I thought we were having a nice time dancing together before she ran out like her dress was on fire.
Shit. Bad term to use.
Honestly though, I’m just confused about what’s happening here. Is she really trying to get rid of me? Or is she just being cautious about her late husband’s business, as she should be?
Am I reading too much into this?
My fate literally sits in her hands, and the woman can’t even make eye contact with me.
Shit.
That damn honeysuckle scent lingers in the air with her question. I inhale deeply, taking it in and savoring what is unquestionably the sexiest thing I’ve ever smelled. Everything about Storm is sexy, even when she’s sabotaging my career path. I can’t find it in my heart to be angry with her. She’s embarrassed about the other night and thinks having me thousands of miles away is the way to ensure she won’t have to address what I think is a very real connection we shared. She knows as well as I do that if we ever came together, the sex would be off the charts.
Well, I’m not about to let her torpedo this meeting.
Chris saves me from having to step in and defend myself. “No one who can do what Landon can. Are you uncomfortable with this?”
Storm takes longer than she should to consider his question, and I can practically see the cogs turning in her head. Her bottom lip disappears under her teeth, and she fidgets with her ring, spinning it around and around her finger.
Please…
Finally, she releases a sigh and shakes her head. “No, I’m just…I want to make sure we are doing what’s best for the company.”
And you.
I bite back the words. Storm is in self-preservation mode. And I guess I can’t blame her, considering everything. Having your life destroyed, no matter the means, leaves an indelible mark on you. She will never embrace me with open arms after what she’s been through.
I just wish my life and career didn’t hinge on a woman who apparently now hates my guts.
7
STORM
What the hell was I thinking?
Two days later, I still I can’t believe I said yes to Landon McCabe joining Matthews Construction.
It’s like inviting a thief into your house to ransack your things. The man is nothing but trouble for me, and I knew it the moment I stepped into his strong arms on that dance floor. It was confirmed when I placed my hand in his during the meeting and a jolt of something shot up my arm and straight down to my core.
I don’t react to men like that. I don’t react to men, period.
I can’t…
But I found myself blushing and unable to meet his eyes the entire meeting, like some shy schoolgirl sitting next to her crush instead of a widow who was there to do business.
Grow up, Storm.
Now, he’s going to be around. A lot. The only saving grace in the situation is that I am almost never at the Matthews Construction office. The only time I may have to see him is on projects I design and they build…like the new club building. But that’s almost complete, so if God is on my side here, I won’t have to come face to face with Landon anytime soon.
“Hey, Storm, are you with us?”
Caroline’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I’ve been staring at the open fridge for far too long.
The group scattered around my kitchen has undoubtedly noticed my bizarre behavior. I shift away from the fridge and let the door close so I can face the women who have been my rocks.
Skye stirs a pot of sauce on the stove while Dani slathers garlic butter on the loaf of bread in front of her on the counter. Caroline tosses back the wine in her glass and reaches for the bottle to refill it. Nora just examines me from her perch on one of the bar stools, her hand resting over her protruding belly.
