Page 4 of Timber

Oh my God. She would fire me. I need this job; it’s the best paying gig I’ve had in a while.

“Okay, here.” I hand him my card with my mobile number on it. “Call me if there is anything I can do.” I trip over myself to get away, a steady mantra of panic circling my head from the thought of getting caught by her here and getting fired. Would she fire me if she found out that I slept with her brother last night?

“Okay, I’m Marcus by the way.”

My feet can’t carry me back to the rental car quickly enough. I try to keep my gaze ahead and ignore the urge to glance around and look for her. What a mess! I’m meant to be here a week and on the second day I run someone over. It’s going to be a long five days until I can leave. Maybe I can leave early if I can get enough written pieces done. If I get extra content done, she may let me just write about the final day based on her accounts of what happened rather than witnessing it firsthand.

Last night was the best sex I’ve ever had. He’s drop-dead gorgeous and could charm the panties off a nun, but I doubt he is going to be quite so charismatic when he finds out I’m the one who ran him over.

I feel as though the disappointment could swallow me as I get into my car. I need to get away from here. Although I had that same feeling last night and ended up in Tully’s bed.

Even though I’m only here a week, I’d been wondering if I’d get to see him again before I leave, but now that’s definitely off the table because even if he did want to see me, I can’t risk going near him. If his sister finds out and I’m fired, my credibility with the agency will be ruined. The agency work has been slow the last six months, but it has provided me with jobs where the accommodations, travel, and food are paid for. All I have to do is turn up and write. Tomorrow I’ll be stuck in a room working with the girl in the office who is running the social media and will probably have to sit and write out a month's worth of Facebook or Instagram posts for them. It’s mind-numbingly boring, but everything I’m paid is pure profit because Tully’s sister even paid for travel home.

I’m nervous to get behind the wheel; what if I run over another person? I roll my eyes at the voice in my head as I pull out of the parking lot. I can go for a drive around town, grab some writing snacks, and go back to my room and write. I’ve got a lot to do as they’re expecting about ten thousand words of final proofed content a day. That’s about eight hours writing for me and I haven’t even started yet. I glance at the clock. It’s going to be a late night so I should probably get some energy drinks from the shop too.

Walking around the aisles, I can’t stop thinking about Tully. I feel as though I’ve ruined something that hadn’t even started. Should I have left? Part of me wants to go to the hospital right now although I have no idea where it is. I could look it up on my phone. Would he think it weird me turning up at the hospital?

Seeing him is about more than just repairing the damage of running him over. I can’t lie to myself and say that it isn’t about actually just wanting to see him. I don’t remember ever being as drawn to someone as I am Tully. What’s going on in my head is dangerously close to developing feelings for him which is diabolically crazy because I had sex with him last night and ran him over with a golf cart today. I don’t even know his last name or how old he is. From the look of the guy who took care of him today, I must be safe thinking he doesn’t have a girlfriend or worse… a wife. What if I’m wrong and I was part of an affair?

“I’m losing my mind.”

“The best people do, love.”

I jump at the voice. A shop attendant smiles at me as she disappears down the aisle I find myself dazing in. Sanity or not, I know I can’t be around Tully because whether or not I have feelings for him, I can’t lose my job over him.

Five

Tully

Iwake up feeling like I have been drinking for the last two weeks. The nurse informs me that I have a minor head injury, a broken leg, and severely bruised ribs. She has no idea how I got them, but she tells me the man that came in with me should be able to solve that question for me. Who the heck came in with me? Was it Marcus? If it was, then I’m screwed.

“Hey, bro! You’re awake! You scared me a little bit. Glad to see you with your eyes open.” Marcus walks in the room with a coffee in his hand, looking in his element with all the nurses walking around. That’s mostly likely why he came here with me.

“Where the hell have you been? What the fuck happened to me?”

He sits down in the chair next to the bed, unfazed by my attitude. “That pretty little thing you hooked up with last night? She ran you over with a golf buggy.”

I wait for him to start laughing. That has to be the shittiest joke he’s ever made. Except he doesn’t laugh or look like he is joking. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

His head goes back as he barks with laughter. “Nah, man. If I wasn’t so worried she had killed ya, I would have pissed myself laughing.” He takes the cap off his coffee and produces sugar from his pocket. “Freaked the fuck out when I told her who your sister was. Ran out of there like a bat out of hell. I didn’t tell your sister, and she said she will be down to see you later.”

I stare at him, still kind of hoping he is going to start laughing, but when he starts drinking his coffee and staring back blankly, I find myself dumbstruck. My luck cannot possibly get worse than this. “Well, this is great. She’s never going to go near me again, and I can’t even walk without sticks.”

“Well, I wouldn’t get mopey about it. She’s surely got to come see you to make up for the fact she put you here. Tell her to make it up to ya she has to come help out at the bar. Then she has to see you. Your sister doesn’t need to know about that and it’s not like she is going to find out. She is far too stuck up to visit your pub.”

Instinctively, I am about to call him an idiot and tell him to shut up but pause because the idea is actually… brilliant. “That’s actually… a good idea.”

“I aint just a pretty face, you know.”

I don’t encourage him with an answer as I reach for my phone on the table before remembering that I don’t have her number.

“You want this?” He holds out a card, and my eyes instantly land on Rachel’s name in fancy print on the front.

“How did you get that?” I snatch it out of his hand before keying the digits into my phone.

“She gave it to me, said to let her know if there is anything she can do.” He puts his feet up on the end of my bed as his eyes go to the TV on an extendable arm next to the bed. A little card sticks out from it which he must have gotten from the shop and put credit on it.

“Thanks for being here. You’re a great friend.” For all his faults I can’t deny him that.

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