Page 108 of Mistaken Identity
“Ahh, I’m sure you’re wondering about my speech.” He narrowed his eyes. “Your boyfriend punched me in the jaw today.”
“Fiancé,” I corrected him. “He’s my fiancé. And if he hurt your jaw, you probably deserved it.”
His eyes narrowed. “I most certainly did not.”
“Sure.” I rolled my eyes. “Let me go now.”
“Sorry, no can do.” He smiled, baring his teeth. “You’re mine for the next forty-eight hours. What shall I do with you?”
My heart started to pound, and the sound of my elevated heart rate could be heard through the monitor above my head.
The doctor’s eyes sparkled. “Ah, the sweet sound of fear.”
I willed my heart to slow, but it didn’t listen to my silent plea.
“Let’s have some fun.”
Twenty-Six
Once I got a job, I realized Dad was right. We did have food at home.
—Audric to Creole
AUDRIC
Wesson looked at me with a frown. “You want to get that?”
I winced. “Actually, if you don’t mind, yes.”
He jerked his chin up and said, “I’ll head to the John while you take care of that.”
As soon as he left, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at the screen.
Ten missed calls from the foreman on my last job, and just as many texts.
All of them saying one thing.
An inspector had shut them down for the day because of something wrong on my end.
I cursed, texted him that I’d be there as soon as I could, then called Eedie.
“Hey,” she answered. “Get the job?”
“I got it, I think,” I replied, but I had to take a second because my phone was blowing up. “Could you do me a favor and run to my place and pick up the work van? While I was in the meeting, the city inspector went to the site of those apartments and said that something was wrong with our work. Then they shut them down for the day. I’m headed there as soon as I finish up here, though it might be a while, and I need my van in case I need to do some work.”
“On my way,” she said. “It’d be easier if you left your vehicles at the office, though.”
I snorted. “Doesn’t matter if I leave them there or at home. I always have to go to the other place to pick shit up for jobs.”
After we hung up, Wesson appeared, and we talked more shop.
He told me expectations, prices for bids he’d gotten, and what his general timeline was looking like.
We spoke more and more about our lives, and by the time it was done, hours had passed.
After agreeing to meet again the following week with my bid sheet, I rushed to my bike.
I headed to the apartment complex we’d recently finished and walked right up to the foreman.
