Page 23 of The Contractor's Rose
So I waited. Quiet. Still. A steady presence she could lean into if she chose to.
Eventually, her gaze dropped again. She let out a shaky breath and whispered, “It’s the insurance stuff.” Her fingers tightened around a binder as she spoke. “I don’t understand half of it. They’re not covering the amount of inventory we thought that they would, and the mold remediation is morethan the adjuster originally estimated, and—I just—” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know how to fix it.”
That sound—her breaking—was worse than any injury I’d ever taken on the job.
My chest caved in. I would’ve taken a bullet for her at that moment. Hell, I’d burn the whole damn insurance system down if it meant she wouldn’t look this broken ever again. I didn’t give a shit about paperwork or protocols or bottom lines. I cared abouther.About the girl on the tarp with wet lashes and too much weight on her shoulders.
I reached out and pulled her into my arms. She didn’t resist. Just curled into me like it was instinct. Like it was the only place she felt safe. Her fingers clutched the front of my shirt like she could anchor herself there, like she might drift away if she let go. I wrapped my arms around her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other firm on her lower back.
“You’re not alone in this, sweetheart.”
She nodded, but I felt the tension still coiled tightly inside her.
It wasn’t enough.
Not tonight.
“That’s it,” I said, rising to my feet and tugging her up with me.
She blinked. “What?—?”
“Lock up. Get your things.”
“Gavin, I?—”
I stepped in close. Real close. Close enough to feel her exhale against my chest, to see her pupils dilate when I crowded her space. Her breath hitched, and I saw the confusion begin to melt into something warmer. Something deeper.
I slid my fingers into her hair, gripping just tight enoughto tilt her head back until her eyes met mine. Her lips parted with a soft gasp, and I could feel the weight of it—of her—settle right beneath my ribs.
“You’re going to lock the shop, go upstairs, and pack an overnight bag.” My voice dropped, every word thick and firm, leaving no room for argument. “Then you’re going to walk your pretty little ass to my truck. And you’re going to come home with me.”
Her lips parted, breath shaky.
I let my thumb brush along the edge of her jaw, slow and steady. “Let me take care of you tonight,” I stated. “No more worrying. No more spreadsheets or emails or insurance things tonight. Come home with me, sweetheart.”
Her lashes fluttered shut for half a second. When she opened them again, the look in her eyes nearly brought me to my knees.
Trust.
Need. Longing. And a hint of surrender.
She nodded once, barely more than a breath.
“Good girl,” I whispered, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her hands found the front of my shirt again, softer this time. A quiet cling, like she wanted to stay there just a little longer.
Because tonight?
Tonight she was mine.
THIRTEEN
ROSEMARIE
I trippedon the first stair up to my apartment, like it was the first time I had ever seen a stair in my life.
Not because I’m clumsy.
Because Gavin called me agood girl.
