Page 44 of Catching Sparks

I offer the bit of personal information up carefully. The more I divulge to these people, the more dangerous my stay here becomes. Not just because of my cover here—Johnny may be the last person in this town who would bother blabbing about my stay—but because bonds may develop, and that’s not a part of my plan. In and out, that’s the plan.

There’s a pinch in my chest as I remind myself of that, but I ignore it. My feelings don’t matter. It’s my company’s future that I need to focus on. The future that relies on my quick, easy return.

“Not even one? Shit, that was probably lonely. I wish I had a brother, but my sisters kept me company. There was never a dull moment in our house,” he says.

“One child was for the best. My father couldn’t even give one enough—” I cut myself off and tighten my jaw. “Thank you for driving to town. Do you want my help bringing everything back to Eliza?”

Brody gave me the day off from sweeping the shop, and Eliza was quick to snatch up my help. Turns out that she enjoys Johnny’s company just as much as mine. He showed up at the main house five minutes after I did, ready to get to work. Eliza had us scrubbing down boots and washing filthy coats before handing over a long list of groceries for us to pick up in town.

I wasn’t prepared to see Poppy on the way back to the ranch with a truck bed heavy with enough food to feed a small army. But there she was, spitting mad in a casual, loose pair of jeans and a shirt cropped just above the waistband that had me stumbling over my steps. She didn’t hesitate in punching a man I’d never seen before, but the cause of that punch remains partially hidden, much to my dissatisfaction.

There was no stopping my feet from carrying me toward her after that. No time to think about the potential fallout of such a choice.

Johnny taps a hand to the steering wheel and says, “I got it. You might not want to talk, and I’ll keep my mouth shut about it, but I feel like maybe you should go inside and talk to her instead.”

“Eliza?” I ask helplessly, a last-ditch attempt to sway his thoughts from where I know they’ve headed.

“Sure.” He makes a zipping motion across his lips over his, a no-good glimmer in his eyes.

“Keep it to yourself, Johnny.”

It’s the only confirmation he’ll get from me, something to keep him from digging. I don’t wait for him to reply before shoving open the creaky truck door and heading up to the house, hoping that I haven’t made a mistake in trusting him.

I didn’t take Johnny’s advice. Three hours later, the leftover Tupperware meal from Eliza’s kitchen steams on the table beside the thick file from Nathan that I’ve finally begun to root through.

Every word typed out on the sheets spins the same story that my father sold me upon my departure. That Jocelyn agreed I be sent off to work on myself while the rest of the company put her career in the “of utmost importance” folder. There’s no potential takeover on the horizon, no slimy moves in the background that would make my return difficult. My assets remain my own, no flags from a single curious busybody. It looks like a simple in and out. I hate that I still can’t find it in myself to believe a word of it.

The financial reports and lists of client meetings don’t matter to me as I stare at my father’s signature on the contract with Jocelyn. My name is above his, but not below a signature. No, it’s only written in a demand. I scrape a hand down my face and blow a harsh breath.

I’ve never been barricaded out of my own company before. Never dreamed I would be. It’s chilling, disconcerting. I’m on edge, searching for the bad in everything. I’m ashamed of that. Ashamed that I haven’t figured myself out at all in the two weeks I’ve been here.

Grilled chicken, a cob of corn, and mashed sweet potatoes sit before me. Despite my empty stomach, I can’t bring myself to eat a bite of it. Ten years ago, I would have called my father just to hear his voice in a situation like this. But now, speaking to him about anything, let alone this, is the last thing I want to do.

I shove the food away from me and glance at my phone when it buzzes on the table, the screen bright in the dimly lit room.

Unknown: A gentleman would have left me his number after taking me doggy style.

My pulse jumps, a different type of hunger rolling through me as I take in Poppy’s message. Nobody else would have been as brazen with what we did the other night.

I shift in the wooden chair, dick swelling at the brief memory of just how well she took me in that position. Each moan and cry, the tight, hot grip of her pussy that had me wanting to stay buried inside of her forever.

“Fuck.”

I grip my phone in a tight fist and type out a reply, the strain of my jeans over my groin growing uncomfortable.

Me: How did you get my number?

Unknown: Creeped out?

Me: Curious.

I’m certain it was Brody. He’s the only person here who has access to that information. It isn’t as if I put it up on a bulletin board in town. But what did he think of her asking?

Unknown: I have my ways. I’m not going to share it, if that’s what you’re concerned about.

Me: I wasn’t.

A pause while I input her contact name.

---