Where We Go From Here (Phoenix Falls Series Book 3)

Who the hell is that?

The second that I mount the steps to the portacabin I’m texting my brother, telling him to call me right now. He’s gone radio silent so I know that he knows exactly what’s up.

There’s a chick on site.

When did she arrive? Did Jace see her last night?

Is she meant to be here?

Hell no. Her being here is way too dangerous. She could… hurt herself. The picture of her clutching a towel around her shower-flushed thighs, hot sparkling water droplets trickling down her arms, sucker-punches me square in the stomach. I rake a hand across my scalp as I kick out the chair behind my desk and I heave my body down onto it. I rest my elbows on the table, steepling my fingers into a fist and then knocking them in a gentle thud against my forehead.

There has clearly been some sort of mix-up. Maybe she had planned to vacation here for the fall and the admin team forgot to reschedule her stay for after New Year’s. It doesn’t matter – I’m going to fix this. Get this chick off base so that no-one gets hurt and this project gets finished ahead of schedule.

No distractions.

I stretch the muscles in my back. This is not what I needed for my first day as project lead. But she’ll be coming to the office soon so we can get this situation sorted and then everything will go back to exactly the way that it was. It will.

I try to unclench my jaw.

It. Will.

I need to occupy myself with something that doesn’t involve glancing every ten seconds through the open door, searching for pretty eyes and long legs at the base of the tree-line. I throw my file open with more forcefulness than I intend, attempting to make sense of the words on today’s agenda.

Yeah, that’s not happening. Something primal has just been flicked in my brain and suddenly all I can think about is that hot young distraction. Is she going to come and see me in the office? Is this the last time that I’ll ever see her? Is she wearing any clothes yet?

Damn. I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers as I try to uncoil the tight flex in my abdomen. Then I remember that these fingers were just tucked into the gusset of some red lace panties and suddenly I’m looking at my hand like I need to hack it off.

I feel guilty as sin. Accident or not, that was not okay – and speaking of not okay, let’s talk about how my body is responding right now. I’m getting hot under the collar and my palms are flexing like they need to be filled with something. Someone.

Growling, I throw myself upright and storm across the cub, yanking open the blinds on each of the windows. Maybe some morning light will help scorch the thoughts of wet womanly thighs from my brain. But when I reach the final pane I suddenly catch a glimpse of a woman’s figure – lithe and golden, with her hips swaying from side to side – and I’m so ready to combust that I literally tear the entire valance off the wall. The slats unravel like a dam breaking free and I blink down at it, trying to think of what the hell I’m supposed to do now.

My eyes flash back up to her. She’s closer than she was before, probably only about thirty feet away. She spots me at the window and tucks a soft tendril behind her ear. I toss the shutter to the corner of the room and then make my way straight over to the entrance.

On second thoughts, I glance down to the front of my cargo pants. Okay, so she’s gotten to me. She’s a beautiful woman and my body damn well wants to remind me of that fact.

Fine, I won’t greet her at the door. I gesture to her from the frame, signalling that she can come inside, and then I make my way back to the desk, rubbing a hand down my jaw as I think of how I’m going to handle this situation. I sit and spread my thighs apart to give my lower body the expansion room that it needs but then, after a long groan of relief, I realise that I can’t do that with this woman sat directly opposite me. I swallow down my ache and shift my legs a little closer together.

Fuck no, that ain’t happening. I skirt the chair right under the desk and allow my legs to splay as wide as they want. I almost grunt with satisfaction. The perfect crime.

I try to quickly clear the work surface as she gently pads up the stairs, mainly so that I can compose myself before I have to meet her eyes again. Eyes that not more than fifteen minutes ago were looking down at me as I fell on her warm unmade quilt, panting like a motherfucker as I got a handful of sexy red lingerie. And I swear that, in that moment, there was something heated in her eyes too – like maybe she wanted me to stay on the bed so that she could climb aboard. Get those soft soaked thighs straddling my lap. Drop the little towel and give me a morning to remember.

Jesus Christ. I grab a pen from the holder as she breaches the entryway and I stab the lid straight into my quad. Get it together, asshole. She’s not for you.

She points to the chair in front of me.

I nod and press the lid in a little harder.

She’s wearing a cream zip-up jumper and a pair of jeans that make my temples throb. She turns slightly, her hand reaching for the doorknob, and I almost flip the table over to stop her from what she’s about to do.

“No, please – leave the door open.” The side-shot of her perky behind is enough to make me firmly reiterate myself, stating loud and clear, “Do not close the door.”

It’s just turned October but one step inside my office and the whole place smells like summer. Where did this girl come from? I need to get her a First Class flight back there as quickly as possible.

I’m about to take the lead with this conversation when she suddenly sits down, arches her spine and says, “I think that there’s been a misunderstanding.”

My brow dips in the middle. Technically, that was going to be my line. I try not to focus on her sweet raspy voice as I unclip the project itinerary from the front of my folder, instead honing in on the little flash of lightning flickering behind her eyes.

She crosses one knee over the other and I have to physically restrain myself from letting my eyes drop down to her lap. “I’m not here to holiday,” she explains, her demeanour calm and composed. “I’m here to supervise.”

I’m no longer interested in the paperwork. Did she just say what I think she said or am I having an auditory hallucination? When I scan her face she doesn’t look like she’s kidding. In fact, she looks like I’m annoying her.

Now I’m really frowning.

“To supervise,” I repeat.

“That’s right,” she says, one delicate eyebrow beginning to rise in defiance.

Why am I getting the feeling that this chick is about to become a real piece of work? I narrow my eyes on her, thoughts of her shower-soaked body quickly swirling down the drain. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

“Are you the boss?” she asks.

“Damn straight,” I reply.

“Well then let’s get another thing straight. I’m your boss. And you should have been told that I was coming.”

I wrack my brain. What the hell is happening? I definitely had no clue that anyone was coming to the site, let alone this perky blonde bombshell with her fuck-me jeans and tiny towels. Her eyes are molten as they bore into my own and a glint of something dark licks in my abdomen. We’re staring like we hate each other. Fine by me.

I wipe my thumb across my bottom lip and flip to a clean page in my folder, lifting my flagellation pen over the ruled paper.

“Name?” I say gruffly.

“Harper Ray.”

And there it fucking is. I toss the pen down, nodding my head as I meet her gaze again. Her lips are pinched, fighting a smile, and her eyes are glittering with relish. Yeah, I know that surname. She’s one of the owners – or, at least, she’s one of the owners’ kids. The word ‘entitlement’ is practically printed across her forehead. Daddy’s given her a job to fill a blank space in her journal and now she thinks that she can crack a whip on my site because she’s a princess millionaire.

This is just what I needed.

I realise that Jason had probably been informed about this sudden check-on-the-inheritance family visit but forgot to share it with me on top of the million other things we’ve had going on before he handed me the reins. I roll my shoulders and decide to cut the guy some slack. Even if he had known that someone would be stopping by I don’t think that anything he could have said would have prepared me for this.

For her.

“And you’re Mitchell Coleson,” she continues, fingers tapping agitatedly against her knees. Don’t think that I didn’t notice the little tremor in her voice this time. Like saying my name out loud… did something to her. My eyes fall for a split-second on her lips and she quickly wets them with the pink tip of her tongue.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “Mitchell or Mitch.”

She re-crosses her legs. I spread mine a little wider.

“Well Mr. Coleson, now that we’ve got introductions over and done with I wanted to let you know that Pine Hills is important to me. It’s my family’s business and I want to make sure that the team we’ve got over here is up for the task. I see that the exterior work has already been completed so I look forward to seeing the interior craftsmanship coming into play with the furnishings.” She sounds like she’s reading from an autocue. She pauses, her eyes scrape me up and down, and then she adds, “You know, if you’d like to think about continuing future endeavours with Ray Corp, that is.”

Dangle that ultimatum in front of me why don’t you. I can’t help the exasperated half-laugh that I breathe out in sheer disbelief.

“Is that a threat?” I ask.

“It’s just something to consider,” she shrugs, eyes on her nails.

“Right. Fine. Let’s get to the minutiae then.” Namely: what the fuck are you going to be doing whilst you’re here? “What tasks are on your agenda?” I ask.

She pauses for a beat, lips parted but with no words coming out.

Great. She doesn’t even know why she’s here.

“Listen ma’am–”

“It’s Harper.”

I swallow hard. “Harper, right. I appreciate the fact that this is your family’s business but you hired the right team. I’ve been doing jobs like this since–”

Now it’s my turn to pause. How old is this chick? Have I been hammering nails and hauling wood since before she was born? Please God tell me that that is not the case.

I lean back in my seat and choose to rephrase. “I’ve been working this business for a long time. This ain’t my first rodeo. Your property could not be in safer hands.”

Her eyes momentarily stray to my hands, spread out flat on either side of my groin. Like I’m presenting myself to her. I quickly tuck the chair closer under the desk, stomach clenching when our knees accidently knock together.

I swear to God I’m one second away from getting a nail-gun and stapling my boot to the floor, to stop my damn leg from pounding up and down.

I clear my throat and jab the blunt tip of a finger onto the itinerary in front of me. “Everything’s on track. We’re under budget. If you need me to send you copies of the docs I’d be more than happy to–”

“Actually I’m… I’m relocating.”

I blink at her. The word ‘confused’ would be an understatement.

“You’re relocating,” I repeat, not sure what she’s getting at. So you’re here because…?

“I was in the market for a… bungalow.”

“A bungalow.” She’s fucking with me, I know that she is. She looks shifty as hell and if she bites her lip any harder she’s going to make it bleed. Why is she lying about this? There’s no need. She should just come clean and say that her papa wants her on the payroll any which way. But I give her the benefit of the doubt because I don’t exactly hate having her here in my office.

“What for?” I ask.

“To live in,” she bites out. The way that she says it sounds a lot like you stupid asshole.

That’s not exactly what I meant. Why is this chick who probably lives in a mansion back home interested in relocating to the hills on the outskirts of a small town suburb? What’s she running away from?

I scratch at my jaw. “So you’re… staying on-site. Indefinitely.” My eyes scan her one more time. “So that you can stay in the bungalow.”

Her eyes are so big that for a moment I think that she’s about to cry. She’s lying to my face and I’m dying to know her true motive.

“Are you old enough to be on a site like this? You must be, what, twenty-two? Twenty-three?”

“Twenty-eight. Thanks though.”

My heart halts in my chest. She’s… twenty-eight?

Still not for you, man.

“I’ve been on sites before so this is no biggie. I’m going to be residing in the bungalow and simultaneously checking up on the progress of things. You won’t even know that I’m here.”

Un-fucking-likely. One, I would eat this fucking pen lid if it turned out that she’d even stepped foot on a site like this before. And two, I would have to be stone-cold dead to not know that she was here.

I flatten my hands on the desk, palms down, trying to reason with her. “You haven’t even been inducted.”

Her eyebrow ticks higher. “Isn’t that your job?”

I blow out a long breath. “Is this a test? Were you sent here to see how we handle distractions?”

Wrong thing. I said the wrong damn thing.

Next thing I know her chair is making a loud scrape backwards, her fists are turning white-knuckled next to mine, and she’s towering over me. Second time in one morning. It’s my lucky day.

“If this was a test I’m not so sure that you’d like the results. A ‘distraction’? That’s what you’re categorising me as? I have every right to watch over how you’re manhandling the properties listed under my family’s name so, congratulations, because you just hired yourself a hawk.”

I rise to my feet and now she’s the one being towered over. She scowls up at me like I’m a tree she wants to hack down. “This is protocol. I’m saving your ass from a legal nightmare. In fact, scratch that – I’m saving you from potential physical harm. I’m looking out for you. So whether or not this site is in your inheritance, you need to go back to daddy for a different toy to play with.”

She leans a little closer. Goddamn, she smells good.

“Actually,” she says slowly, dropping her voice to a smug whisper. “This site belongs to mommy.”

I arch backwards and stretch the column of my throat before locking my eyes back in with hers. It looks like I can kiss goodbye to this project getting done on time because I’ve just hired myself a beautiful twenty-eight year old distraction with an entitlement issue and an attitude problem. If she wants to spend the next two months getting in the way then fine – be my guest. But I’m a grown-ass man with a job to do and I’m going to keep this professional, so help me God.

“You need a site induction before you can stay here,” I tell her levelly.

“Induct me then,” she snaps back, furious.

She’s flipped a switch on me and I’m struggling to keep up. Twenty minutes ago she was a pink-cheeked sweetheart. Now she’s twenty lawsuits waiting to happen.

Is this because I accidentally grabbed a handful of her lingerie? I already got a prolonged look of disdain from the teddy snuggled between her sheets and I was kind of hoping that that was the end of the matter. That it could be pushed aside and forgotten. But that was before I knew that she was actually thinking of living on this construction site and that I’d actually have to make eye contact with her every damn day.

Get this under control, Coleson.

I try to placate her, praying that I’m not coming off as patronising. She’s still glowering up at me in defiance, but there’s a slight tremble in her chin that I’m going to pretend I didn’t just see.

“I think we may have got off on the wrong foot, and it doesn’t need to be this way. I work long, and hard, and fast. I want to see this project through with no accidents or delays, for the sake of your company and mine.”

I look intently into her eyes, trying to show her how sincere I’m being. Maybe she really is concerned about her family’s site but I wasn’t lying when I told her that this project was in the most capable hands.

Something wavers behind her pretty irises and suddenly I’m getting a better read of her in this silence than any amount of talking would have uncovered. She looks vulnerable as hell, like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She doesn’t trust me because she doesn’t know me, but for some reason she’s here rather than in the safety net of wherever it is that she came from. Which means that wherever she came from is even less safe than here.

I frown at the realisation and she puts her shields back up.

“I’m staying in the bungalow and I’m overseeing the rest of this project.” She states it like a cold hard fact. Somehow it still sounds honey-sweet in that sexy breathless rasp of hers.

Suddenly her hands are sliding across my desk and I watch as her graceful fingers climb onto my work folder, grip it and then snatch. She flips it open until she’s found the project calendar and then she’s snapping a photo of it on her cell, quick as lightning.

I jerk my chin at her. “What’s that for?”

She squishes the phone into the front pocket of her jeans. “So I can get myself nicely acquainted with your very busy schedule.” She thinks for a moment. “Maybe I ought to get myself an office, too.”

I flip the binder shut and shove it back to my side of the desk. When her eyes meet mine they’re crackling with heat.

I shake my head at her and her energy sizzles wilder.

Just act like she’s not here. Keep this professional.

I give her a curt nod of my head – polite, civilised – and say tightly, “I look forward to having you around.”

She dips her hands in the back of her jeans and says, “I look forward to my long thorough induction.”

Hot damn. There’s nothing polite or civilised that I can say to that so I just nod again and swallow thickly. “See you around,” I say conclusively, meaning: get the hell out of my office.

She looks at the stitches on the left side of my shirt and reads the text.

Coleson Joinery. Mitchell Coleson, Team Lead.

Then her eyes are back on mine and she gives me a casual shrug, like yeah maybe.

“See ya,” she says at last, that raspy caramel voice settling low in my abs.

I wait for her to turn around and then I lower my body down onto the seat, wary and unsettled. There’s another feeling too but I refuse to acknowledge it.

It’s been a couple of years since I last got entangled with a woman and there’s absolutely no need to break that pattern now.

I hear her shoes hit the top step and I let my eyes glance up at her, my body still crowding over the paperwork on the table.

The last thing that I see as she leaves my office are her delicate golden hands tucked in the back pockets of her jeans, involuntarily tugging the denim slightly down at the back.

And I swear that, for the briefest of moments, I see a lightning flash of red lacy underwear.