ChapterThirteen
Beau
Soft breasts pressed against his back while lips traced down his spine. This was so much better than waking up alone. Everything good came in pairs like shoes, gloves, peanut butter cups, and people.
They made love slowly until he had pushed the limits on his time and had to run out to work with the folder of Bobbie's research and the lead and asbestos testing results under his arm.
The night before, they had talked about everything. He learned so much from a five-hour conversation. Bobbie was obsessed with righting a wrong, but she came to terms knowing that no amount of right would ever bring her mother back. She agreed to stop terrorizing his site as long as he promised to do the right thing. It was a treaty sealed with a kiss and a joining of their bodies.
The day flew by, and when lunch came around, he thought about whether he'd have enough time to go home and have lunch with Bobbie, so he texted her.
Do you have time for a quick lunch?
He stared at his screen for a reply, but it lit up instead, and the song “Happy” played. He'd chosen it that morning because when he was with her, that's how he felt.
“Hey, I just texted you.”
“I know. Turn around.”
She was at his site, fully clothed without a picket sign or the press in tow. She held his old, tattered curtains and a bucket of chicken.
“I bet you looked hot in my curtains.” He rushed to her, and she dropped the curtains and the bucket of chicken. He kicked the door closed, and lunch began with a passionate kiss as an appetizer. Five minutes later, they were eating chicken and discussing what to watch on TV that night when Pete Schiff walked in.
“What the hell is she doing in here?” Pete walked to Bobbie and grabbed her arm, but she tugged it back. “She needs to go.”
Beau was in front of her in seconds. “Don't you lay a hand on her. I don't care who you are. I'll rip your arm from its socket.” No one had a right to touch her, least of all a man she loathed.
“I warned you she was trouble.” Pete's voice rose to a deafening pitch. “I refuse to lose another dime over her because you can't keep your priorities straight.”
“I told you she was harmless. I've got it under control.” As soon as the words were out, he wished he could take them back. Bobbie distanced herself immediately, putting several feet between them. Anyone who says you can't feel anger has never stood in front of a pissed-off Bobbie Cruise.
”I'm harmless and under control?” Her voice was frigid. An arctic front was warmer. “I thought we were more. Was that what you were doing all this time? Were you getting me under control?”
He was torn between wanting to pull her into his arms and wanting to shove his fist down his boss's throat.
Pete leaned around him to get to Bobbie. “If all it took to shut you up was a good lay, I'd have done it myself.”
He shoved Pete back, but it was Bobbie who attacked. She came forward with a right hook and landed a bullseye to Pete's nose. When blood shot from his nose like a geyser, everyone went still. Bobbie was his priority, and he checked her for injury while Pete cussed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I'll sue you, you little—”
“Shut the hell up, Pete. Unless you're firing me, get the hell off my site. You're interrupting my lunch.” He handed his boss a wad of napkins and pressed his hand against his chest, shoving him out the door.
When Beau turned toward Bobbie, she was shooting daggers at him. “Tell me the truth!” she yelled. “Are you with me just to keep things quiet?”
“Give me a break, Bobbie. I'd never put up with so much shit if I didn't love you already.” I didn't mean to blurt that out.
“You love me?” She cradled her injured hand and walked toward him.
“Damn it, Bobbie. I can't think when I'm around you and don't select my words carefully.” He went to his desk to pull out the ice packs. All he had to do was snap the bag, and the chemical reaction provided the rest.
“So, you don't love me.” Her head sunk toward her chest.
He pressed the pack against Bobbie's swelling knuckles. “I don't know what I feel for sure. It's only been a week, but I know I can't—or at least don't want to—live without you, and if that's love, then yes, I love you.”
She reached up, pinched his chin between her fingers, and pulled it down. “You realize you have zero swagger, right? That isn't how I fantasized you would tell me you loved me.” She stepped up on her tiptoes and swiped a passing kiss as she walked out the door mumbling words that sounded like beanpole, harmless, and love.
He sat down at his desk and pulled the file Bobbie had given him last night from the drawer. After that showdown, he owed it to her to do more homework. Pete was a jerk. His sensitivity chip had shorted out long ago. A callous man was capable of anything. He was halfway through the file when Kyle wandered in. He picked up the vinyl scrap on his desk and used it as a bookmark before closing the folder and setting it aside.