CHAPTER TEN
Addy did dream of Trent that night, and the next. With each night, the dreams grew more detailed and her desire for him stronger.
She kept busy, even as the numbers of her group dwindled. Most had moved on to North Dakota and only about a dozen people remained. Even Helen and Minnie had gone on.
Since Estelle had decided to stay in town, Addy had put her in charge of as much as she could to allow herself time to continue her research.
She’d finally had a quick meeting with the mayor and Tyler, Trent, and Trey. They had discussed current oil drilling plans and future ones, but nothing concerning the new land or their plans for it. Basically the meeting had been less productive than just talking to Trent. He’d hurried out of the meeting, claiming the brothers were late for another meeting, and she hadn’t even gotten a few minutes alone with him.
She had ended up talking to Martha for another half hour, learning about rumors that had been floating around. Addy told the woman more about the dangers of fracking and other issues with dangerous drilling methods, which was all more concrete information than anything Martha told her.
She’d spent another few hours scouring the web for anything about Trent’s family’s business and the land purchase, but she was beginning to feel like there was nothing real she could discover. Not without the help of the McGowans.
On Tuesday morning, she dressed in her newest black slacks and added a silk top and low heels. She took extra time fixing her hair and applying the slightest makeup to finish the look.
When she parked near the building that housed McGowan Enterprises, Addy’s palms felt damp, and she wished she’d worn her hair up since it had rained that morning. Now her well-placed hair would become a rat’s nest. She tied it up in the Jeep before making a dash to the front door, her small, broken umbrella over her head.
She shook the umbrella off and sat it just inside the doorway.
Rea, sitting behind a massive wood desk, watched her as she walked across the glossy wood floor.
“Hello, dear. I hope your Jeep tire got all fixed up.”
“Yes, thank you. My insurance paid for everything.”
“Oh, good.” Rea shifted. “Trent mentioned that you might be stopping by. I’ve got a few things ready for you.” She stood up and moved over to a file cabinet. “Here.” She pulled out a thick folder.
“You didn’t have to . . .”
“Nonsense.” Rea smiled and handed the folder to her. “If I could, I’d be camped out there with your group.” She walked back over to her desk. “You have a look through that and if you still have questions, let me know.” She winked at Addy. “Now I was given strict orders, if Trent was in the office when you stopped by, to show you in.”
Addy swallowed and wished she’d spent a few more minutes fixing her hair.
“But since he’s not here . . .” Rea trailed off as the door opened.
“I’m here.” Trent walked in and almost tripped on Addy’s umbrella.
“Sorry.” She watched him move her umbrella aside. Their picnic encounter surfaced in her mind, causing her face to flush.
“Hmm.” He smiled. “Don’t know what I did to deserve the blush, but I’ll take it.” He walked toward them. “Thanks, Rea.” He took Addy’s free hand, and she followed him back down a long hallway. She hadn’t registered Trent holding her hand until she glanced back at Rea and noticed the woman’s smile. When she tried to tug her hand free, Trent shifted, bringing her closer to him.
They walked past two impressive conference rooms until they came to a tall door with his name etched in the smoked glass.
She wondered just what she had gotten herself into. Could she really spy on Trent’s family’s business while trying to have a relationship with him? Because that’s what it was. Spying. Or was it the idea of the relationship that bothered her the most?
When he shut the door behind her, he pulled her close. The folder Rea had given her crumpled between them as his mouth covered her lips.
“There.” He pulled his mouth away. “Much better.”
“Speak for yourself. Now I can’t walk,” she joked.
His arms remained wrapped around her and he nuzzled her neck. “I could always carry . . .”
“No.” She took a step back and shook her head, causing him to chuckle.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” he said, moving to his desk. But instead of sitting behind it, he motioned for her to sit in one of the brown leather chairs.
She did as he suggested, thankful to be off her feet.
“I like this.” He touched the shiny material of her silk shirt. The shirt hung low over her chest, showing off more cleavage than she was used to but not enough to make it inappropriate business attire.
“Thanks,” she said, then bit her bottom lip. She could still taste him and smell his aftershave. She had to admit, part of her wished he’d carried her to his desk and . . . her face flushed again.
“There it is again.” He leaned closer. “Did you miss me?”
“No.” She raised her chin. “Did you miss me?” she asked after a moment of silence. She wanted to hear him say it first.
“Very much.” His gaze moved back to her lips. “The feel, the smell, the taste of you.” A low growl radiated from his chest.
She swallowed slowly, and he watched her chest rise and fall.
This time, the growl came from deeper.
“Addy, you’re killing me.” He shifted slightly and she couldn’t help it. Her eyes tracked his motion. Her mouth went dry when she noticed he was hard, very hard.
Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths and licked her lips. Which didn’t end up helping, since she could still taste him on them.
Just then, his office phone chimed and Rea’s voice came over the intercom in a soft whisper. “Trent, your uncle just walked in. Shall I have him wait?”
Addy’s eyes had flown open and were glued to his as Rea spoke. Without breaking eye contact, he reached back and pressed a button on his phone.
“Yes, thank you.” He stood and walked over to the large windows behind his desk.
Addy remained still, unsure of what to say or do.
“How about dinner tonight?” Trent asked, looking out the window.
“I . . .” She shook her head and took another deep breath. “I can’t tonight.” She held in a groan when she thought about why she couldn’t be with him. She’d rather spend the evening anywhere than with her parents.
He turned around and finally met her eyes. “Tomorrow?”
She thought about it for a moment.
“Don’t make me beg.” She heard his voice crack slightly.
“Okay, tomorrow.” She took a step toward the door. “My place,” she said without thinking. “I mean, I’ll cook.” She turned and left before he could respond. His instant smile had given her the answer she needed.
She walked down the long hallway, past Rea and Trent’s uncle, Carl. The man looked a lot like Trent’s late father, just with a large beer belly.
Once outside, she dashed to her Jeep, avoiding several puddles as she went. The folder Rea had given her remained tucked tight against her chest to keep it from getting wet.
Addy sat in her car for several minutes before she felt she was under control enough to drive back to her trailer.
She was due at her parents’ house promptly at five o’clock that evening. A groan escaped her as she thought about the awkward family dinner that would follow.
She spent almost two hours skimming over what Rea had given her. As a person in a leadership position herself, she was impressed at how the three brothers had strengthened their father’s business. The rumors were true; they had easily doubled the last year’s profits.
But as an activist, she wondered if they had cut corners to obtain the added profits.
She needed more information than what Rea had provided. She needed inspection logs, invoices for supplies, time sheets, reports on safety. She needed more. She needed answers directly from Trent.
It took almost five minutes for Trent to get his body back under control. He could still smell her soft perfume in his office as his uncle walked in.
“Heard you wanted to talk to me.” Aside from the passing family resemblance, Carl McGowan was nothing like his brother had been—especially in personality. Carl had gone through a handful of wives, DUIs, and jail sentences—and he had gone through money like it grew on trees. As far as Trent knew, he was currently living in a rundown trailer house at the edge of town.
From the looks of his clothes, he would have guessed that the man slept in a gutter.
“Sit.” He motioned to the leather chair. Instead, his uncle remained standing.
“If this is about my money, it’s about damn time.” Carl didn’t beat around the bush. He’d already scanned the room for any liquor, which Trent normally kept on the back table but had locked away before his uncle had arrived.
“No, this isn’t about money.” Trent motioned again to the chair, not willing to sit before the older man. Though he barely deserved that level of respect.
His uncle’s eyes continued to scan the room as they both sat.
“Nice place you have here,” Carl said. “This should have been my office.”
“What makes you say that?” Trent leaned back in his chair. Tyler had recently ordered new chairs and computers for the entire office. Trent was thankful.
“Your father and I built all this.” Carl waved his hands around.
“We know exactly what you contributed to this business, and we believe that you’ve been fully compensated.” Trent kept his cool.
“Your father . . .”
“My father is the one who cut you off. His will clearly states that—”
“Don’t bullshit me.” Carl stood up slowly. Trent followed suit. “I know what I’m due.”
“You’re due common courtesy. That is why you’re in my office today.” He motioned again to the chair. Carl hesitated, then sat down.
Trent joined him. “As you know, you made a deal with my father almost ten years ago. You gave away your half of the business for payments made to you over a decade. In that agreement, any income from new procedures and processes would not continue to you. And this would mark the completion of all obligation McGowan Enterprises and our family has toward you.” Trent watched his uncle’s face turn a deeper shade of purple than normal.
“Your father was a thief. He stole—”
“My father didn’t steal anything, and we have the proof.” His uncle shut his mouth, and Trent continued. “The agreed-upon ten years is up, and his procedures have been proven not only extremely productive, but lifesaving and cost-efficient. We’ve worked up a deal with our lawyers for a method of releasing my dad’s knowledge to the general public for free.”
“You can’t do this!” Carl stood up again, his voice echoing throughout the building. “That knowledge is mine. I could make millions selling that oil-drilling method! You’re nothing but thieves.” The man started coughing and choking. To Trent’s horror, he watched his uncle go from bright purple to sheet white in under thirty seconds.
As Carl went down, Trent dove to catch his head before he cracked his skull on the wood floor.
He yelled to Rea to call 911. By the time she rushed into his office, the phone held up to her ear, he was already performing CPR.
Three hours later, Trent left the hospital and drove his mother back to her house. His brothers had left minutes before they had.
“He’ll be okay,” she assured him. “The heart attack wasn’t your fault. Years of bad eating and drinking habits, combined with the late-night lifestyle . . .”
“Mom.” Trent stopped her. “I know. I don’t blame myself.”
“Good.” She nodded. “That’s good,” she said and looked out the window.
He could tell she was wiping a tear away and wondered why his uncle’s bad health was not affecting him the same way. Maybe she was thinking about his father?
His dad had died a little over a year ago from a heart attack while on a job. His father had been in perfect health, but now Trent and his brothers all wondered if the stress of holding down a business and a family had weighed heavier on him than they thought. Guilt over their former partying lifestyles now hung over all three of their heads on a daily basis.
It wasn’t as if his uncle’s heart attack was a big surprise. After all, his mother was right. His uncle had been a walking time bomb for as long as Trent could remember—one of the reasons they had all been certified in CPR in high school. That and the work they did demanded they knew the basics of first aid.
The doctors had told Trent that his uncle had been lucky he’d been there. Otherwise he’d have been lost. Trent parked the truck in the drive at his mother’s house but kept the motor running.
“Are you okay?” his mother asked, reaching out her hand and touching his arm.
“Yeah.” He shook his head clear. “There’s something I need to do.”
Her eyes met his and her smile grew. “Be gentle. Something tells me that girl needs gentle.”
He closed his eyes. “Jesus, Mom.”
“What?” She giggled. “Just because I don’t allow it under my roof unless it’s a sealed deal doesn’t mean I don’t know it goes on.” She poked him in the stomach. “I didn’t raise any fools.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Good night.”
“Night.” He watched until she shut off the front porch light, then pulled out of the drive and headed across town.
As he drove, he thought about his uncle, looking pale and fragile lying in the ICU with tubes sticking out of him. Regardless of what his mother said, or for that matter what his own brain told him, guilt seeped in.
He compared the situation to his father’s. If Trent had been there, performing CPR on his dad, would his father have lived? Hell, if the three brothers had stuck around and had actually helped out, his old man could have retired early and would right now be spending his golden years sitting on the back deck with their mother.
His mind played over and over the conversation he had with his uncle. Asking all the same questions. Could he have done anything differently? Anything?
But as he drove through the dark town, he had to admit there wasn’t anything different he could have done to help his uncle or his father. Except not leave town and not have the damn meeting with his uncle in the first place. What he needed was a time machine.
As he passed the many different strip clubs that flooded the small town of Haven, he wondered when he’d changed. The row of clubs had moved in close to ten years ago. They were designed to draw the oil workers in and help them spend all the money they made working long hours. What they did for the town was more than just earning tax money; they helped keep a lot of the men busy and out of fights.
There was a time when he and his brothers would have spent countless hours in any of them. Now, however, the thought of spending time with that weird, sexy activist appealed to him so much more.
Addy was right. He had changed.