Pierce My Heart (Women of Willowbrook Book 1) (17 page)

Strong.

Telling
.

That’s what he wants.

His voice says it, but he means it.

Holy fuck
.

Okay.

Shit.

I really like that, a whole hell of a lot. More than I want to admit.

And I want that, just the two of us.

I’d promised Evan I’d try. I know that Jake is the kind of guy to try with, to face things for.

So, I make a choice and I take a deep breath, reigning in my attitude.

“I’d like that,” I confess, my voice telling just how much.

“Good. Now, what do you want to do? Told you, anything you want. Though, if I’m being honest, I’d rather just be with you. No crowded places, no loud music, no annoying-as-fuck people, just us. But anything you want to do, I’ll be happy with.”

Thinking on it, I know I want the same.

I’m not sure I’m ready to go out in public and see all the looks of disbelief of Jake being out with me.

I shake my head.

No, that definitely wouldn’t make for a fun time.

“I can cook at my place or something,” I offer.

A pause.

“How about I bring over take-out and you make something sweet?” he counters.

I grin.

“I can do that. What do you want?”

“I’m guessing, based on the brownies and cupcakes you brought to dinner, anything you make is gonna be good, so make your favorite.”

“No, I’m making it for you. I’ll make your favorite,” I counter.

“Anna, just make your favorite,” he says.

“But—” I start, but am interrupted.

“Sweetheart, make your favorite. It’ll be good no matter what and this way I get to know your favorite, how you make it.”

Okay, I like that a lot too.

“Works for me,” I mutter.

“Seven good for you?” he asks.

I nod even though he can't see it. “Yeah, that works.”

Silence.

It lasts a minute before I break it. “You still there?”

“You think I’m seriously hot,” he replies, laughter ringing in his voice.

I blink at the change of subject.

I mean, he is. I could just agree,
or
I could open myself up more and be honest.

If I’m going to really try, I have to be honest.

Shit.

I have to be honest.

At least he’s on the phone so I don’t have worry about seeing his reaction.

“No.”

“No?” he asks, confused.

I close my eyes, imagining his face as I take a deep breath and let it out.

“I think you’re beautiful,” I whisper.

“Fuck, Annie,” he grinds out with a harshness to his voice.

A harshness that has
something
to it.

What
it
is, I’m not sure. I just know it’s there and that it’s settled something inside me at the same time it’s rattled something else.

“Friday, Jake,” I remind him, bringing the conversation back around and to an end.

Now that I’ve told him, I’m a little anxious to get off the phone and away from all the emotions for a moment.

“Friday, sweetheart. Later.”

“Later.”

I click off, fling my head back, drop my phone, and blow out a breath.  

Well,
that
went well.

Ramming

It’s Thursday morning and I’m in my car heading for the construction site, freaking out a little.

I’m nervous, why I can’t exactly explain, but I’m sure it has to do with the fact that this is, essentially, a new job and I’m bound to mess up. Sure, working for Robby will be easier, in the sense that he can’t fire me if I mess up too much, but it also feels like there’s more pressure to do right and not embarrass myself.

I try to think of other things, like the fact that Evan never got back to me last night, or my date with Jake Friday, but those thoughts just give me anxiety in different ways. Instead, I turn my radio way up and decide to sing along with Meghan Trainor about her bass all while shaking mine in the seat.

By the time I reach the site in the middle of a housing development on the North end of town, I’m in a much better mood. I even have a little extra sway in my step (though, that has more to do with my desire to keep shaking my ass). I catch sight of the trailer, hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and make my way to it, walking up the few steps before going in.

The space is nice, but sparse. There’s a door leading to a bathroom on one end, another door on the opposite end leading to the main office, and smack dab in the middle of the back wall are a couple counters; one holding a sink, cupboards overhead, and a fridge—smaller than a normal size, but bigger than a mini. On one side of that is a worn, but comfy beige couch with matching arm chair next to it for people to kick back and sit for a spell.

What isn’t there is extra space for me.

No desk, not even a table.

I look around, thinking for some reason that I’ve ended up in the wrong place. Shaking my head, I back out and take a look at the side of the trailer. When I see Pierce Construction in the bold, masculine script I know I'm in the right place. I wander back in and head over to the door I assume is the office, but before I have the chance to knock the door swings open with Robby on the other side.

He blinks, his eyes looking at my raised fist before moving back to me.

“Anna, what are you doing here?” he asks, his brows drawing down in confusion.

“Um, I’m here to work. Didn’t Mom or Dad tell you?”

“Shit, that was probably what Dad’s call was about this morning. I was in such a rush I forgot to call him back. What are you supposed to be doing here?”

I look down at my outfit.

While not professional in a business sense, it works for what I’m doing there.

I’m in a pair of my better quality jeans (these not so faded or flared) and a long-sleeved, see-through maroon top with small ruffles around the neck and across my collar bone. It has a small slit down the front that showed the barest hint of cleavage—well, as bare as
I
can get (I have trouble not showing cleavage in tees)—and underneath that is a white tank.

Usually, I wore a belt around my waist for cinching (and as a cute accessory) with the top, but it definitely doesn’t work with construction chic so I left it at home.

A pair of flat, caramel colored boots that I wear under my jeans, a “small” amount of jewelry—my watch, the Tiffany’s necklace I got for my 16
th
birthday from my parents, six rings, and two sets of earrings—and my tan canvas jacket completed my look.

“I’m here to lay foundation,” I deadpan, doing my best to give him a straight face.

He crooks his eyebrow at me, crosses his arms over his chest and waits.

I let out a big sigh.

He’s ruining my fun.

“I’m doing the office work. Billing, answering phones, filing, all that shit. Dad thought it’d be good to keep me on site, especially since Mom was just going to work from the office from now on.”

“Great. I hate all that bullshit, especially when I should be out there working with, and watching, my guys.”

I feel some tension leave my body.

“So, where am I supposed to work?” I ask, jerking my thumb behind me. “There’s not exactly anywhere for me to set up, and working from a couch is going to get real old, real fast.”

He uncrosses his arms and steps backwards. Holding the door open with one arm, he gestures to come in the office with his other.

“You’ll do it here. Since you’ll be on site there’s no need for me to even be in here, except when I need to do a couple things, but those will usually be done before you’re here and after you leave.”

His office is just as sparse in decoration as the main room.

There’s a huge black desk that had to have been assembled in here because there’s no way it would fit through the door—let alone the one to get in the trailer—and a couple tall filing cabinets along with a few short ones. A small black loveseat sits to the left of the desk in the corner, and two cloth chairs that match sit in front of the desk. I swing my head around and notice, of course, a TV that sits in the right corner in a way that whether you are at the desk or parked on the couch, you can see it.

I mentally roll my eyes at that one.

“This’ll be perfect, Robby.”

Though, I wouldn’t say anything if it wasn’t. I’d just make it that way.

“Alright, I’m gonna head out there. If you need anything there’s a radio on the corner of the desk, I’m channel two, or you can just give me a call, I’ve got my cell,” he says, gesturing to the desk before patting his pocket.

He gives me a two-finger flick and is out the door.

I walk around the desk, sit my purse on top of the small filing cabinet, and get to work.

I’ve probably only been at things for an hour before I hear a knock, which proved pointless seeing as the person just barges in without my say so.

I lift my head with an annoyed expression on my face, about to say something when I catch sight of Jake unmoving in the doorway.

I lose the annoyed expression as my eyes widen. “What are you doing here?” I ask with a hint of accusation and a whole lot of surprise.

He comes unstuck at that and walks the two feet in so he’s clear to shut the door, then he glances down at himself and cocks his eyebrow as a way of explanation.

I follow suit, though my perusal is much slower, and much more enjoyable.

He’s in worn jeans (faded from the wear not by design), a white Henley with the sleeves rolled up his strong forearms, a tool belt slung around his hips, and brown work boots on his feet.

I’d completely forgotten Jake was working for Robby.

And seriously, the way the man makes his clothes look just isn’t fair.

“Where’s Robby and why are you in his office?”

“Robby’s out there,” I say, tilting my head to indicate the outside. “And I’m here because there’s no appropriate work space out there.” This time I tilt my head towards the main room. “There’s no way I’m working the remainder of the build on a couch,” I finish.

“The remainder of the build?” he asks.

I nod.

“You’re working here the remainder of the build,” he says as more of a statement than a question.

I scrunch my face.

Is that what I sounded like on the phone last night?

“Yes, Jake. I’ll be working here the remainder of the build, and then the next site I’ll be in here as well.”

“Since when?”

Jesus, what’s his deal?

“Since today. I got fired from my job last week, late one too many times, and I needed to find something. I’d been toying with the idea of coming back to work for my mom and dad but saw no point in leaving my previous job. I was good at it, made good money, and I liked the people, but getting fired changed that. Mom had no time for me around the main office, especially with the weather getting colder, so Dad thought it’d be a good idea for me to work with Robby on the main sites doing all the office work. Robby was thrilled since he hates this bullshit—his words.”  I take a breath. “So, I’m here on site and will be on site until I’m told otherwise. That good with you?” I ask, a little peeved.

By the time I’ve finished, his look of confusion has turned to one of amusement.

Honestly, I’m not that funny. I don’t know why he seems to think so.

“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s good with me. Makes my days better being able to come in and see your face.”

I lose my irritation as my skin heats with a blush.

“Well, um, good then,” I breathe.

I groan inwardly.

God, I’m
so
lame.

“We still on Friday?” he asks me.

I open my mouth to confirm, but the door behind him flies open.

Robby moves forward, taking in Jake and me. His face blank, but in a way that doesn’t seem like it’s bad, more like he’s just being cautious.

“What’s Friday?” Robby asks.

“Nothing,” I answer.

“We’re grabbing dinner,” Jake says over me, giving me a look I can't (or don't want to) decipher.

I’m surprised; not that he would say it—well, actually I am, but only because of the argument I’d overheard.

Jake doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would keep things a secret, but him being open and upfront about it isn’t expected.

Saying it to Robby’s face, he doesn’t talk in a superior way like, “What’re you gonna do about it?”, but in a way like he’s telling his friend his plans, as well as giving him the courtesy as the brother to the girl he’s seeing for said plans.

Yeah, I read a lot into things, but these guys are not ones to mince words or beat around the bush. Growing up with the King of speaking his mind, who raised two boys to do the same, it isn’t hard to decode.

“That right?” Robby questions Jake, but looks at me, his face still blank but his eyes watchful.

He’d noted my response, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

I just nod my head.

He turns his gaze back to Jake. “Alright then. Anna, I need you to call these two suppliers and get some quotes for me. All the info’s written there and I need it within a couple hours.”

He has his hand out, a folded piece of paper between his fingers.

I blink, dumbstruck, but reach forward to grab it.

That’s it?

Alright then
.

“I’ll see you out there, J.T.”

He looks at Jake once more before moving out, not bothering to shut the door. His way of saying he isn’t going to fight it, but he isn’t handing me over either.

That
deserved an eye roll.

Unfortunately, it’d have to wait seeing as Jake moved closer and he has a not very happy look on his face.

“What?” I ask cautiously.

He’s silent for a moment while he watches me, pensively.

“Why’d you say ‘nothing’?”

“Pardon?”

“Why’d you tell your brother that there was nothing happening Friday night? You don’t want him knowing or something?” he asks, a weird tone creeping into his voice; one I
seriously
do not like.

“No, I don’t care if he knows,” I answer, flicking my hand to say it was whatever.

“Then why?”

“I don’t know,” I lie.

I know, I just don’t want him to know.

He leans forward. “Why, Anna?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, Jake.”

“Yeah, you do. You said it and for a reason, so why?” he demands, putting his fists to the corner of my desk and leaning closer.

I say nothing.

“Jesus. Am I wasting my time here?” he asks, not unkindly.

Still, I take it that way because I'm me.

“I don’t know, are you?” I wonder honestly.

“Fucking hell, Anna. Asked you a simple question. If you can’t even give me an answer for that, what the fuck are we even doing?”

Annoyed is out the window and he’s well on his way to getting pissed.

“I didn’t think you’d want him to know,” I mutter.

He jerks back, disbelief written all over him.

“Why wouldn’t I want him to know?”

Shrugging my shoulder, I look away, avoiding his eyes.

“Anna.”

Letting out a big sigh, I turn to look at him and go for honest. “Because. I heard you two arguing in my dad’s office the other night at dinner.”

His face goes from pissed to confused, to understanding before finally settling on soft.

“Sweetheart—”

I shake my head, interrupting him. “No, it’s fine. Well, it’s not, it’s…whatever, but now you know. I walked away before you guys were finished. I didn’t even mean to listen as long as I did. I thought it was Robby and Nate getting ready to wrestle and I was going to wade in, but then I heard him say my name. And then he started telling you about—” I stop and look away. I don't want to get into that. I shrug and let out a sigh before looking back up at his face. “I just wasn’t sure where you guys stood on everything and I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, if there was one.”