Page 6 of Castaway Whirlwind
“Crap!” I drop to the floor, hands braced on Russell’s hard thigh to stop myself from falling over.
Russell jerks upright in his chair, dropping the cash on the floor to steady me with his hand on the crook of my shoulder. I shouldn’t like the way his thumb feels caressing my bare neck, or how he looms over me in this position.
“What on earth are you doing?” Russell turns his head when there’s a knock on the door. The cut of his square jawline beneath his trimmed beard is something else I shouldn’tnotice…or like.
I tap his thigh, which flexes beneath my hand. “Is that Steven?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t sound happy about it.
Noise from the busy warehouse spills into the office when the door opens, even though Russell didn’t give Steven permission to enter. I tap Russell’s knee until he widens his legs enough for me to crawl under his desk, halfway sitting on top of his enormous boots, which take up most of the space.
Russell shoots me big, bewildered blue eyes before snapping them up.
Steven’s pleasant tone sounds forced when he says, “Jared said I can take off early if you sign off on it.”
Russell shifts his feet beneath my weight. “Why? You have better things to do than work your full shift?”
I hook an arm behind his calves to keep from toppling against the backside of the desk, whispering, “Sorry.”
Russell reaches under to pat my shoulder in anit’s okgesture, I think, while he and Steven go back and forth, but he accidentally taps my head, his fingers lingering on the front pieces of my hair before he jerks his hand away—yet another thing I shouldn’t like.
“Listen, you have two choices,” Russell barks, cutting off Steven in the middle of his sentence. “You can get your a—self back to work.” Warmth pools in my belly at the fact that he curbed the impulse to curse in my presence. “Or you can take the rest of the day off.”
Steven raps his knuckles twice on the desk, his signal that he’s about to leave. “Cool. Thanks.”
“But if you do,” Russell says in a threatening manner, “it’ll be your third strike, and you can kiss your job goodbye.”
Steven grunts low with irritation but doesn’t argue. A second later, the side door leading to the warehouse opens and closes with a petulant bang. I had no idea he acted in such a childish manner toward his boss, his livelihood depending on staying on his employer’s good side.
I drop my forehead against Russell’s right knee, thinking of how many times Steven has switched jobs. I couldn’t fault him for it since I did as well, but I believed him when he said his bosses or coworkers were insufferable and he felt stifled at work. Now I’m left wondering if that was becausehewas the one who was insufferable.
“Please tell me that was a one-off. That he doesn’t always talk like that at work.”
Russell pushes away from the desk, a dark look on his face when I tip my chin up. “Sorry to break it to you, but that’s usually how it goes with him.”
“What were his first two strikes?”
“Smoking on the job inside the warehouse instead of outside on his breaks.”
“Steven doesn’t smoke.”
“Yes, he does. You didn’t know?”
I chalked up the scent of smoke on Steven’s clothes from hanging out with his friends at the bars or around fire pits and bonfires at parties. He’s always been meticulous about his dental hygiene, so I never thought anything of the fact that he usually has minty-fresh breath, no matter the time of day. He must have been brushing his teeth and swishing mouthwash before coming home.
Feeling even more foolish, more so that I’m still carrying on this conversation from beneath Russell’s desk, I tap his knee so he’ll back up further.
More serious than I’ve heard him sound in the forty-eight hours I’ve known him, he asks, “Why did you hide? Are you scared of him? Because if you are…” He trails off, leaving his unspoken threat lingering between us.
Nervous, I shake my head as I crawl out from the cramped space, taking Russell’s hand when he puts it out to help me up to my feet. “No.” I might flinch at some of the words and tones of voice my fiancé uses, but I’ve never been scared for my physical safety. “But I know what he’d say if he knew I was giving you your money back.”Dental hygiene doesn’t come cheap, after all.
“All the more reason to keep it.” Russell suddenly seems to remember that we’re holding hands, and he squeezes mine once before letting go.
“I told you I can’t since I didn’t earn it,” I say firmly. My dad would be proud. “And you can’t make me.”
Russell pinches his lips together, bends forward in his chair, and picks up the cash that had fallen on the floor. He folds the cash in half and sticks it in my apron pocket.
I slide it out, grab the collar of his T-shirt in an uncharacteristically aggressive move, and drop the money.Chest hair. So much dark, masculine chest hair.Dangit, dangit, dangit!Why do I care if he has chest hair? Or that I can’t stop looking at it? I’ve never thought or cared about it before.
