CHAPTER ELEVEN

Six Days to Deadline

 

 

“Jilly!”

Felix snags my attention from interviewing a cleaning contractor. My bothers’ friend cuts a fine figure, tall and square, sandy hair looking professional under his hard hat. Although I could never look at him as a possible love interest, it’s no surprise that Nola’s smitten.

“Hey, Felix.”

He gives me a quick shoulder hug and shakes the worker’s hand. “Hope I’m not interrupting?”

“We were wrapping up. Just a couple more questions.” I turn back to Hector. “So, no ideas about the stolen items?”

“We’re all watching very carefully. Making sure nothing’s left unattended.”

“And yet things still go missing every night?”

“Si. Odd things. I lost a pack of gum last night.”

“Nuisance stuff.”

“Exactamente.”

“How’s the rest of the project going?”

The small man has an endearing smile. “They keep us busy. More busy since AI came.”

“Workers can’t get to their job sites until you’ve prepped it for them, right?”

“Si. We keep the construction areas cleared of debris and as much dust as we can, so machines and tools can operate properly.”

“How long have you been a cleaning contractor?”

“My wife, Lupe, and I met at our first site, twelve years ago.”

Felix catches my eye and waggles his brows suggestively. “An office romance.”

His look sends a stream of awkward through me. I gulp a quick inhale, trying to banish heebie-jeebies. Instead I focus on the realization that I’m sort of having an office romance, too, just not in the office. “Thank you, Hector. Hope I didn’t take too much of your time.”

He nods and lopes off, pulling on his gloves.

Felix’s gaze has never left me.

My muscles twitch, and I huff a laugh. “What? You’re creeping me out, Felix. Stop it.”

“I saw the way you looked when I mentioned office romance.”

Old programming surfaces, my father laying down the law on my activities, brothers following up to make sure I complied. It’s hard to resist falling into the pattern of knuckling under. “No idea what you’re talking about.” I pack up my stuff to go back to the pumphouse.

“DePaul.”

I jerk my head to meet his searching stare. “What about him?”

“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

A heavy sigh escapes my lungs. “What I do or don’t do is none of your business, Felix.”

“How can you say that? We’ve practically grown up together. Your family depends upon me to keep you safe when they’re not around.”

The noise of my labored breathing is loud to my own ears. I stop, legs wide, fists on hips. “Don’t. Do not do that. I’m an adult, and I make my own decisions, live my own life. Unless I ask for your help, don’t interfere.”

“He’s no good, Jillian.”

I throw up my hands and turn to walk away from the aggravating man.

“He’s in trouble with Lonestar Petroleum.”

My gut wrenches like it’s suffering from green-apple bellyache. “What?”

“At a meeting this morning. He was called on the carpet.”

“What for?” My heart’s pounding.

He takes my elbow. “I can’t really talk about it. I shouldn’t have said this much. But dammit, Jilly-bean, I can’t stand by and let you get mixed up with somebody your family wouldn’t approve of.” The skin’s bunched around his eyes, and his jaw is clenched hard against emotion.

The worst of my anger melts. “I can take care of myself.”

“Jilly—”

“No, Felix. This needs to stop. I already have too many babysitters looking over my shoulders at everything I do. I don’t need another.”

He scoffs. “You’re so blinded by him, I’m not sure you know what you need or don’t need.”

Placing a hand on his forearm, I wait until he’s focused on me. “I just need your friendship. That’s all.”

He pulls off his hat and rakes his fingers through his hair. “Jilly—”

“Be my friend.”

His mouth pulls into a grimace, but he nods.

The vice around my chest loosens. “Good. Because I know someone who really needs a good man looking to her comfort and safety.”

One side of his mouth pulls up in a slow smile. “Who?”

“A certain someone you work with.”

He scrunches up his forehead. “I only work with guys.” He leans in and whispers. “You do realize I’m straight? I like women?”

I slap his chest and shove. “Very funny. This particular she isn’t a pipefitter.”

This time his eyes seem to scan the sky as if she’s hiding above him. “Seriously, nobody’s coming to mind.”

I snort my frustration. “Guys are so clueless sometimes.”

“Just tell me—”

“Nola!”

He blinks a couple of times, staring at me like I’m the two-headed calf at the county fair.

“Is that a problem?” I ask.

“Not exactly.”

“She’s been awfully nice to me here on site.”

His jaw flexes. “She has a kid.”

“You don’t like kids?”

“They take work.”

“Like most things worth having. If it’s worth having—”

“—it’s worth working for. Yeah, your Aunt Bink already told me.”

My insides warm with affection when I picture my 80-year-old aunt giving this man words of romance wisdom. “She’s usually right, you know.”

“Yep. I haven’t been very encouraging to Nola. She’s probably not interested anymore.”

My eyes roll as I throw his earlier words back in his face. “I can’t really talk about it. I shouldn’t have said this much.”

He has the decency to look sheepish, his head pulled in toward his collar. “All right, Miss Sass, I’ll take it under advisement. But in the meantime, I don’t trust DePaul, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him from hurting you.”

“I’d rather you help him bring in this project on time.”

He swallows and takes a step closer. “I’m not the one with screwed-up priorities. I’ll do my job. And I’ll keep my men safe. No matter what it takes.”

Bile rises in my throat, and my stomach tightens.

He’s touching her. His paw was on her arm and now he’s grabbing her elbow like he owns her.

She’s bright as sunshine, and he’ll smudge her with his dirt. Why does she let him get that close? Why does she smile at him, pat his arm? After our time together this morning, why would she?

I draw a long breath through my nose and concentrate on calming the army of tiny razor blades jagging through my body.

They’ve known each other a long time. Her brothers’ friend, she said. From what I’m seeing right now, she’s pretty friendly with him, too. The man who’s stirring up trouble for AI. Who’s trying to trip me up on this project.

What’s his angle? And is he the only one doing the angling? She sees lots of documents and data. Some of the things he came up with at this morning’s meeting, I never pegged him as being smart enough to figure out on his own. He’s not in high enough a position.

Unless he’s getting help.

The stab of pain to my chest is sharp and shocking.

No. I’m being paranoid. She wants this project to succeed, too. There’s nothing for her to gain in sabotaging AI. She wouldn’t.

 The pain dulls, slicked over by the oily, green slime of envy. I resent the years he’s known her. The memories they share. The smiles and  laughter and even the pranks between them. I want them for myself.

On top of that, I particularly don’t want her giving away her touches.

Fuck. I’m a jealous dick. Take the girl once, and suddenly she’s mine? In what universe?

The asshole smiles at Jilly, and I have to beat back the urge to stalk over to her, fist her hair, and plaster her mouth with my kisses. Remind her who was in her bed just hours ago. My lips tingle, and my cock twitches. I growl with the animal surge flooding my veins.

Even at this distance, she’s aware. Her back stiffens as if she can feel me nearby. She waves Felix off. Pivoting, she looks me up and down, waiting. Like a queen, tall and self-assured, fiery crown of hair surrounding clear, shining skin and piercing blue-green eyes.

I’m no greenhorn mooning over his first woman. Got over that phase half my life ago. Yet somehow this woman is worming her way into me. Burrowing under my skin. It’s in the way she invades me with her gaze. As though she can see past the wall I’ve erected to keep everyone else out. Even my brothers haven’t figured out how to penetrate it. But she’s doing it, and we haven’t even known each other long enough to build trust.

Her cozying up to that pipefitter supervisor doesn’t inspire my trust. I control the sneer pulling on my upper lip and fight to get my head back in the construction game. Frank told me the day crew made progress on the retro-fit scaffolding down in the s-CO2 well. I need to make my own assessment so work can be assigned. The last thing I need right now is Jilly’s type of distraction.

The disappointment in her eyes when I turn my back haunts me all the way to the well.

 

What was Jack’s dirty look for?

First he leaves me high and dry this morning, and now he glares at me and walks away?

My heart that had been stuttering while I stood there drinking him in, now sags in dejection. Muscles turn heavy and tired, body dragging as I trudge back to my desk in the pumphouse.

Fine. He’s under tremendous pressure. And, if half of what Felix says is true, Jack’s carrying even more stress than usual. I can cut him some slack. Besides, I almost have enough information for my blog article. The sooner I finish that, the sooner I can move on to my grapefruit harvest. Then I’ll have time. Time for us. If we both want it. I can’t tell about his feelings right now.

“Danny, I’m going to work on my article, if you need me.”

He smiles at me as I pass. “Sounds like a plan. I don’t think the boss will be back for dinner, so you should have plenty of time.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Checking progress in the well.”

I stop and come back to Danny’s desk, where he’s pouring over paperwork. “I heard there was a meeting today with the bigwigs. Did everything go all right?”

He abandons what he’s working on and wags his head back and forth a couple of times. “Some things came up, I think. But nothing overmuch to worry about.”

“He’s crustier than usual.”

Danny laughs. “That’s saying something! But we’re coming down to the wire. Less than a week left, and we still haven’t completely caught up the time Roi-Tex was behind.”

“But I thought—”

“Yeah, we’re slated to do that tonight. Certainly over the weekend. Nobody’s concerned about that.”

“Okay, good. Wait. Y’all work weekends, too?”

Diving back into his pile of documents, he shuffles a couple and jots a note. “Of course! We’re confident about making deadline, but every minute still counts. With only five days left, there’s not much margin for error.”

“But we will make the deadline?”

“AmerItalia’s never missed one yet.”

The vise on my chest eases a little. I let him go back to work, and I slip off to Jack’s office to write.

This is the second half of the sixth day to deadline. Just eleven more shifts, counting this one. Eleven more opportunities to bring this project in on time and make it work like it’s supposed to.

If anybody can do it, Jack can. After all, it’s not his first rodeo, as the saying goes.

And after that?

He’ll go back to North Carolina.

A sense of loss wells inside me, and I curse myself for feeling something I have no right feeling.

Getting some work done makes the rest of the night fly by. Jack doesn’t come back to the pumphouse, and when 6 AM comes, I’m clocked out and heading for the exit.

At Security, I pick up my phone and check messages on my way to the parking lot. There’s a voicemail from my Aunt Bink.

“Jillian, sweetheart, something’s happened in the groves, and I need you to call me when you get this message.”