Captured Love (7 page)

On Monday, while running early morning, my thoughts turned to him again. It was enough to spoil my mood. Brightening my day a little, Uncle T. called in the afternoon to tell me Alan was interested in my work 112/504

and wanted to see me first thing Tuesday morning.

I borrowed Aunt Cadence’s old Camry, and I came into the office wearing my black legging-style slacks, black pumps, and a fitted white shirt, a little makeup, and jewelry, with my leather portfolio under my arm, and regretted it as soon as everyone turned to look at me.

Everyone wore jeans, tee shirts, flats or sneakers. One guy wore a screaming yellow cap, and one woman hadn’t brushed her hair, I was sure. Alan hadn’t been much better, with thick glasses, a crumpled shirt that didn’t match his tie, worn jeans, and super worn shoes.

Ugh, at least I knew what to do, and I was quite good at it.

Three thirty came too fast, but not fast enough.

“Jessica,” Alan called me from his office door.

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I shut down the project I was working on, pulled my purse over my shoulder, and walked to his office with all eyes on me. I couldn’t say I liked this part of the job.

I stepped inside and halted near the door. “Yes?”

Alan juggled between a telephone, a pen, and the computer’s mouse. “A client just called, saying he’s coming to see his project, and I was supposed to stop by the new Habitat for Humanity site on the other side of town.”

“Habitat for Humanity?”

“Yes, I’m sponsoring a dozen houses there and need to drop this—” He pointed to a thick binder. “—there and pick up the report from last week.” What did that have to do with me? I looked at him expectantly for about a minute. “The others are busy until five. Could you please drop this there and pick up the report for me?”

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Oh, come on. First day on the job and already asking favors? “Sure.”

“As soon as you get on site, you’ll see the office, which is actually a trailer, to your right. The supervisor should be there. I’ll call and let him know you’re the one coming instead of me.”

He gave me the directions and the binder, and I left the office feeling used. But I couldn’t complain. I had nothing else to do or occupy my day, and keeping my mind out of messes was my objective.

The drive was a short one and I found the place easily. A dirt path led inside the site. To the right, the trailer, to the left the construction. Many men and women worked under the scalding sun on eight houses with walls and roofs, eight other houses that had only half of the framework, and eight with only the concrete slab. By the looks of it, the lot could hold many more houses.

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I parked the car behind the trailer and walked with my pumps on the unpaved ground. Damn it. I loved these pumps, and I would spend at least a half hour trying to get all the dirt off them.

With the binder in hand, I entered the trailer, and other than a messy table, three worn chairs, a file cabinet, and a coffee machine, I found no one.

Oh, this was getting better and better.

Cursing under my breath, I looked out the small window and saw no one who looked like a supervisor. Not that it meant anything. The supervisor could be inside one of the houses, but I wasn’t going to walk around in my pumps. I wasn’t that picky. I had done plenty of walks through construction sites during my two years in architecture school, but I had worn jeans and flats.

I rested the binder on the desk and thought about what to do about the report Alan would be waiting for. I didn’t want to 116/504

rummage through someone else’s stuff, so I had to sit down and wait for the supervisor to come in. If he came in.

Instead, a hand-drawn plan hanging from one of the walls caught my attention. It was a map of the site, showing the locations of the houses already erected and the ones to come, and beside it, a plan of the house.

Simple and small, but with the essentials. In the end, the site would have about fifty houses. All sponsored by Alan’s office.

The door opened, and I turned around to greet the supervisor, but I froze when the man entered and halted, staring at me.

A man, really, because he had grown and changed in the last four years.

A white tank shirt hugged his muscles, and his tight dark jeans hung low, just enough to see the color of the boxers under it. Black. Tattoos ran up his arms, hiding under his shirt. New tattoos. His fists clenched; the muscles of his biceps and shoulders 117/504

flexed and popped. A black bandana held his longer dark hair back. His chiseled jaw tensed, his full lips pursed, his brows knitted together over those alluring hazel eyes. His skin was tanned, as if he spent a long time under the sun.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Hey.” I was speechless. For several reasons.

The odds of finding him here. And he was still, if not more, hot and roughly handsome.

His eyes swept me from head to toe and back. “What are you doing here?” Heat crawled up my cheeks. “I’m looking for the supervisor.”

“He’s busy.” He walked forward and I found myself retreating. Averting his eyes, he grabbed a clipboard from the desk. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Without another look, Ryan walked out of the trailer. What was he doing here? I fought the urge to spy on him through the window and lost. With his free hand, he 118/504

pulled the bandana off his hair as long, rapid strides took him to one of the first houses, the ones with roofs.

He disappeared inside, and I sank into a chair, finally able to breathe since he had entered the trailer. Oh. My. God. What had I done to deserve such punishment? I was able to avoid my cousin and my brother, but not him? My life was one big circus, and I was a clown in the middle of the ring, with no idea how to entertain the public.

No, not in the middle of the ring. In the middle of Main Square with everyone staring at me, at us, just like the day I left town and never looked back.

“Jess, wait,” Ryan yelled as I darted
away. “Please, Jess, wait. Let me explain.”
I had never run so fast in my life.

A door opened and I jumped up, a little confused for a second, but then I remembered where I was and why.

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“You’re Jessica?” a man asked, stepping in. He looked around thirty, with his skin dark from the sun, his blond hair cut short, and his dark eyes tired.

“Yes. How do you know my name?”

“Ryan told me. I’m Noah, the supervisor.” He extended his hand, but looked down at it, covered with dust and concrete, and pulled it back. His eyes, though, remained on me, examining me. If I had a jacket, now would be the time to pull it over me. “What can I do for you?”

“Alan sent me. I’m here to drop this off—” I pointed to the binder on the desk.

“—and to pick up the report from last week.”

“Oh yeah, right. He called a few minutes ago.” He walked to the file cabinet behind the desk, glancing at me every two seconds.

“With so much going on, I had already forgotten.” He scratched his chin, smiled at me, and then rummaged through a drawer.

“Here.”

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He pulled out a thick file and handed it to me.

I took it from him. “Thanks.”

Noah sat on the desk, crossing his arms.

“So, you’re new in town.”

I frowned. “You could say that.”

“I’ve been here for a year now. Good, calm town. I think you’ll like it.” I almost laughed. Jesus, he had no idea.

This town was anything but calm. “Yeah, I think I will.” I retreated to the door.

“Thanks.”

“I hope to see you soon,” he said, a huge smile across his face.

I nodded and left as if the trailer were on fire.

I had almost forgotten about Ryan when I reached the car. Before I could stop myself, I looked back at the houses, but he was nowhere I could see.

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Since leaving town, all I wanted was to forget him, and now here I was, looking for him. Ridiculous.

With a heavy sigh, I climbed into the car and left the site, hoping my temporary insanity stayed behind with it.

***

Hidden behind the frame of the second-floor window, I watched as Jessica drove out of the lot.

The band around my chest tightened.

She looked so beautiful and incredibly hot. Her brilliant hair fell over her shoulders and cascaded down to her waist, framing her perfect face. Those red lips, those dark blue eyes, those long lashes. That white shirt and those black pants molded to her curves. And shit, had she become a hot woman, or what?

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Shit. I thought I was over her. Oh, how mistaken I was.

“Man, that girl is one hot babe,” Noah said from behind me. I turned to face him, my fists clenched. “Where do you know her from? Do you have her number?” I took a deep breath and willed myself to ignore it. It wouldn’t do any good to become angry and violent because someone was drooling over Jessica. After all, she
was
hot, and if I became violent over every man who drooled over her, I would need heavy sedation.

I gritted my teeth, struggling with my control. “No, I don’t.”

“Bah. Well, no problem. If she’s working for Alan, I’m sure I’ll see more of her, and—” He winked. “—maybe I’ll score, huh?” With a herculean effort not to punch Noah, I tried to make sense of the first part of his sentence. “She’s working for Alan?”

“Yeah.” Noah lost the smile. “Why?” 123/504

“Nothing,” I answered quickly, turning back to the window.

“Hey, isn’t your time up?”

I grabbed my cell phone from my back pocket and glanced at the screen. Four in the afternoon. “Yeah.” I walked past Noah. “I’m outta here.”

I ran out of the house, off the lot, and across the back street, where my car was parked. I slid inside, opened the windows, blasted light rock through the speakers, and rested my forehead on the steering wheel.

I closed my eyes and my thoughts betrayed me. For once, I didn’t fight it.

Her parents had been out all Saturday
afternoon, at some work event, and Jason
was helping Ethan at the racetrack. The
house was ours, and Jessica was mine. I still
couldn’t believe this beautiful creature, this
angel, let me kiss her, touch her. I wanted
more than just kisses and her touch, but for
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once, I wasn’t in a hurry, because every
minute with her was perfect.

She looked out the window at the rain
and then smiled at me, a wicked grin that
did unspeakable things to me.

I smiled back. “What are you up to?”
Without another word, she ran out the kitchen door and down the porch steps. I went
after her, but stopped at the top of the steps.

“What are you doing?”

Standing in the heavy rain, she just
smiled.

Slowly, Jessica ran her hands along
her hips, over her flat belly, and around her
breast. I swallowed as the space in my jeans
grew tight. She popped open one button of
her shirt, then the other, then the next one,
her eyes always on mine, her smile
mischievous.

She slid off her shirt, revealing a tiny
pink bikini. I groaned. Fuck, she was perfect. Just too perfect.

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I took off my leather jacket and my
shoes, and then raced to her. She giggled
and sprinted away from me.

“Oh, hell no,” I said through gritted
teeth. “Come here.”

Another giggle and she sped across the
backyard. She had to know that the backyard wasn’t that big, and I was much faster
than she was. I was going to catch her. I
couldn’t wait until I caught her.

She stopped by the fence, knowing her
demise was coming, but just as I was about
to close my arms around her, she used the
wet grass to skid away, ducking under my
arms.

She yelped and giggled again. “I didn’t
think that would work.”

I laughed. Her happiness was contagious. She was contagious. All of her.

My laughter faded and my smile was
gone. I marched to her, determined not to
let her escape this time. I backed her against
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the fence again, and this time, when she
tried to duck past me, I was prepared. I
wrapped my arms around her waist and
pulled her to me. I trapped her wet, glorious
body between the fence and me.

Her laughter died as her eyes met
mine. I saw as her pupils dilated, as desire
shone in her blue eyes. I crushed her mouth
with mine and she moaned, making it hard
not to push her about sex.

Shit. I bumped my forehead against the wheel, hoping the pain would help me stay in the present. I was holding it together by a breath, and it was too hard for me. I wouldn’t be able to take much more of it.

She had been the best part of my life, and I had blown it. I lost her, I drove her away from me, and I had suffered for it.

Suffered too much.

My fingertips found the scars on my neck and on my chest. I had had so many cuts, but thankfully not all of them left 127/504

marks. These scars were the reminders of my mistakes, of what I had done and couldn’t fix.

My cell phone rang, and I turned the volume down before answering it.

“Hey, man.” Jason’s voice came through the line. “Luke, Ethan, and I are going to ride a bit. We’re thinking of going to Charlotte, and making a lap around there. Are you up?” Soon, it would be the fourth anniversary of the abandonment of my bikes. I still had both of them. I still cared for them, cleaned them, fixed them, but I hadn’t rode them, or any other bike. Jason knew my answer, but I was glad I still had a friend who tried to pull me up from my own shit every now and then.

“Thanks. I think I’ll just go home.

Maybe I’ll stop by my parents’. B likes it when I have dinner with them.”

“You’ll spoil that sister of yours.”

“I hope so.”