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Time will tell. It always does.
“Ms. Vandemark.” I catch her easily. She isn’t navigating construction debris in those shoes quickly. My dressy leathers aren’t doing me any favors, either, but I move faster than she does. If it weren’t for a meeting with the mayor soon, I’d be dressed a hell of a lot more comfortably. I check my watch and swear under my breath. I’m going to be late thanks to this fiasco. Fantastic.
She picks up speed as best she can, grumbling something I can’t discern. So, okay, I might’ve overreacted. I’m not a big fan of the word “no,” which is why I favor forgiveness over permission when it comes to decisions I make about my job sites. Gary also lied to me. And after I gave him a sizeable “gift” to hurry things along. So disappointing.
Vivian hit a hot button when she threatened to shut me down. Hell or high water, I will finish this job on time. Her stomping in here all pomp and sass and threatening a shutdown puts me up Shit Creek, sans paddle. She pummeled one of my sorest spots.
Still. I didn’t have to act like a horse’s ass.
“Viv.”
“You had your chance, Owen.” She stops walking and faces me. “You used our valuable time by sledgehammering a wall. Why don’t you take down the rest of them while you’re at it? I’ll send over an inspector to check your wiring and we’ll take care of the pesky paperwork issue you’re having.” She gives me a disingenuous smile. “You can expect a penalty fee and a lengthy delay, but I’m sure your bank account will bounce back.”
I have to fight not to react. She knows, somehow, that I hate being delayed. It’s her arrogance that makes her more than what she seems. Mild-mannered city workers don’t breeze in like they own the place. Even Daniel can’t look me in the eye when he’s angry about something. And Gary? Incentivizing him to speed up the paperwork process wasn’t remotely difficult.
It took me years to establish Vivian’s confidence in business situations. I used to be an asshole, but, very recent sledgehammer incident notwithstanding, I’ve learned some finesse.
I try that next.
Smiling, I spread my arms and try to look affable. Not easy for a guy of my size but sometimes it works. “Come on. You don’t want to shut us down. How can we fix this issue succinctly? Quietly.”
She chokes on a laugh. “Does that smooth-as-a-fox move work on most inspectors? Is that how you wooed Gary into falsifying your paperwork?”
“It wasn’t falsified.” I grit my teeth.
She shrugs as she flips a few strands of silky, dark hair sticking out from under her hardhat.
What a beautiful, stubborn pain in my ass.
“You can’t shut us down. I have friends in high places, Ms. Vandemark.” My smile vanishes. I’m not fucking around here, and she needs to know that. Gary was a pushover. Most men are when you meet their price, and they all have one. I didn’t want to deal directly with Vivian’s boss on a trivial matter, but she’s not giving me much choice.
“Watch me,” she says breezily and then marches away from me again. What happens next happens so fast, I don’t have time to think. I just react.
The chunk of rock she steps on tips, her right high heel snapping. Off balance, she flails, arms out, heading straight for the dumpster. I bolt into action and close the gap between us in record time, catching her in my arms. I slam my shoulder into the metal bin in the process—where her forehead would have hit if I hadn’t been there.
Chest heaving, she’s looking up at me like I’m a sorcerer, her eyes the same whiskey essence as her voice. She blinks long lashes as I take inventory of her face. Fine cheekbones, the barest dusting of pale freckles, and a parted mouth that tempts me to bend in for a taste.
Her hands are clawing my forearm and as slowly as it takes for her cheeks to tinge rose with embarrassment, the pain in my shoulder intensifies.
“Are you okay?” I ask instead of what I’m thinking, which is something to the effect of, Motherfucker, that hurt!
I have an old rotator cuff injury, and as much as I’m loath to admit it, it’s easy to re-injure. Once it’s back, I’m reduced to a whiny, unmanly specimen who can’t point across the room without a whimper emitting from my throat.
Very unsexy.
“I’m fine.” She jerks her gaze away as I help her to her feet. She straightens the hardhat, still perched on her head. I can tell she’s embarrassed. I can also tell she doesn’t know how to handle being embarrassed.
“Stupid goddamned shoes.” She removes the broken one, tenderly setting her foot on the rubble. When she arcs one arm toward the dumpster I catch her wrist.
“Don’t. You walk to your car barefoot, you’re going to need a tetanus shot.”
She considers my grip, and then her shoe, and for half a second I wonder if she’ll stomp to her car barefoot to spite me. Maybe.
In the end, she slides the broken not-high-any-longer heel on and limps to her car.
I watch her go.
Her gait is uneven from the varying height of her shoes. She should look silly, but I can’t take my eyes off her. And not only because her ass is wiggling in an enticing way. The long hair spilling down her back is rich and dark against her lighter colored shirt. I recall that smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose. Those clear, brown eyes.
