Page 8 of Courting the Consequences

Kevin groaned and dropped his head back, looking at the ceiling in disbelief.

Derrick laughed under his breath; his buddy made it too easy to fuck with him sometimes. “You need to get laid, bro.”

Kevin just shook his head and pulled open what appeared to be a random door in the hallway that just happened to be a closet with an electrical panel on one wall.Time to get back to work.

“Bro, have you seen Rockstar with Carmichael yet?” Derrick asked Johnny one day when he was on-site checking over progress. He’d been away dealing with a mix-up on another job, but he was finally back to help out.

Johnny ran his knuckles over his jaw. “Like today? Or in general?” he asked, blue eyes stony.

“In general, bro,” Derrick shook his head, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Dude’s in love. I’m calling it now.”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed quickly. He was a hothead on a good day, and Derrick knew that look. “What do you mean? Have you walked in on them?” he pressed.

Derrick held up his hands in surrender. He’d clearly opened a can of worms he hadn’t known about. “Nah man, nothing like that. Just Rockstar’s googly-eyed fascination with the chick, their flirty conversations when she’s around,” Derrick hedged, trying to brush it off.

Johnny smirked and shrugged. “Nah, I haven’t. But that sounds like a good show. Rockstar allgoogly-eyed?” he laughed. “That I gotta see.”

Derrick laughed and nodded. “For real.”

Derrick rounded the corner of the basement storage area that was tucked back behind the loading dock and mail room of the main Carmichael building. They had set up storage in one half of the large room. The other half of the room was being used by the building’s facilities department. He wasn’t really sure what was on all those pallets, but it wasn’t his job to know.

He had come down here looking for a box of nails but heard sniffling from the far end. Clearly someone else was down here. Derrick debated leaving whomever it was alone. But when it turned out that finding that box of nails was harder than finding a damned needle in a haystack, he grew more concerned by the soft female sobbing. He grabbed a roll of paper towels as he passed them and ripped off a bunch.

Derrick considered himself more a love-’em-and-leave-’em type, but he would never intentionally leave a woman in distress. His momma raised him better than that, God rest her soul. So, he headed in search of the crying damsel and was damn glad he had.

Kara Carmichael was sitting on a pile of boxes stacked on a pallet. Her head was in her hands and she was sobbing quietly.Ah, fuck, he groaned internally. There was no good way to go about this without startling her. And from what he’d already gathered about her, she was the proud sort and wouldn’t accept any assistance he might offer.

It would be better if he turned around and left her alone. Her secrets safe. But he couldn’t do that now. His momma raised him right, after all. “Hey there, pretty lady,” Derrick murmured softly, not wanting to startle her.

It didn’t matter, Kara’s head whipped up, and she quickly wiped her eyes.

Derrick held up his hands in surrender. “Hey now, it’s alright, I come in peace,” he continued. He held out several of the paper towels as an offering of good faith.

Another sob tore out of her as she reached for the paper towels he offered. He moved closer and took a seat beside her. “Bad day?” he asked.

She nodded and wiped her eyes. She took a deep breath in through her nose and held it. When she slowly released it through her mouth, Derrick counted the seconds. Soon he was matching her breathing and counting the seconds, easily recognizing the 4-7-8 breathing technique to ease a panic attack.

When her breathing had calmed, Derrick reached down for the stainless-steel water bottle she carried everywhere with her, one of those insulated ones with a straw. He handed it to her, and she took the heavy bottle with two hands that were slightly shaking.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly after she took several sips. She moved to set the bottle back on the ground, but Derrick grabbed it from her and set it down himself.

“Better?” he asked softly.

“A little, thank you,” she glanced at him with a watery smile.

He grinned back. She looked fucking beautiful regardless of the tears in her eyes. “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

She smiled wryly and shook her head. “Not really. My father is an asshole, though,” she shrugged.

Derrick grinned broadly at her cussing. “Ahh, gotta love the old daddy-problems cliché,” Derrick drawled.

Kara shrugged and gently wiped her face. Overall, for just having sobbed her eyes out, she looked mostly put together, minus the watery gaze. Give her another minute, and Derrick was sure she would be as composed and collected as she usually was, put together and with her ice-queen facade, as Johnny called it, firmly in place.

“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing how he’d just brushed off her feelings. “I didn’t mean to be a dick.”

“But you don’t know any other setting?” she offered, a small smile on her lips.

He barked a laugh and nodded. “Basically.”

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