Page 56 of Show Me

His hand slams flat on the counter. “You can’t just walk out.”

“I already gave notice.”

“For two weeks,” he snaps. It takes everything inside of me not to jump at his sharp tone. But I’m not giving him the satisfaction of affecting me. “Not today.”

“I don’t feel comfortable staying.” The words hang between us, calm, factual, final. Whether he sent me the flowers or not, I’m leaving because this feels wrong, and I’m not staying to find out how far it goes.

His jaw flexes. “This is about him.”

The asshole. I straighten my shoulders. I’m so tired of this man making everything about another man like it’s impossible for a woman to have a thought on her own. “This is about me.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Not anger. No, it’s worse. Possession. My instincts flare. “I’m leaving.”

To hell with two weeks’ notice. Or even a full day’s notice. I step sideways, forcing space between us. He doesn’t move to stop me, but the tension in his shoulders follows me to the door.

I don’t look back.

*****

Cole Construction sits on the edge of town, a low brick building with trucks parked at angles that suggest function over aesthetics. The lot smells faintly of sawdust, gas, and diesel.

I sit in my truck, hands resting on the steering wheel. This wasn’t the plan. I planned to give my two weeks’ notice, but plans change. I’m here now because I’m not going back there. I grab my bag and open the door to Cole Construction.

The office is quieter than the gym. I’m greeted by the hum of computers, and the faint creak of a chair shifting as Xavier’s dad looks up from behind the desk.

He’s decades older than Xavier, but the resemblance is there. The same steady eyes. The same set to his jaw. His reading glasses sit low on his nose, a handheld ledger open in front of him.

He studies me for a moment before speaking. “Ruby.”

“Mr. Cole.”

He gestures toward the empty chair across from the desk. “I heard you weren’t starting for two weeks.”

I set my bag down. “That was the plan.”

“And?”

“Different plan. Things didn’t go that way at work. I know you need help, so I’m here now instead of waiting two weeks.”

He leans back in his chair, studying me in a way that feels less like judgment and more like measurement.

“Phones ring whether we’re ready or not,” he says.

“So I’ve heard.”

A corner of his mouth twitches as he stands. “You know how to answer a phone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know how to tell a client we can’t start their deck tomorrow just because they thought about it this morning?”

“I think I can handle that.”

He nods once. “Good answer.” He nods again, like that was the one he was hoping for. After moving around the desk, he gestures toward the front area. “This is the reception desk. Phone lines are labeled. Do not let Travis talk you into scheduling three jobs in one day.”

“I will not.”

“He’ll try.”