Page 20 of Runaway Bride for the Boss

My office is on the top floor of the three-story building that houses Beaufort Construction, so it doesn’t take long for us to reach the lobby. I curse under my breath when we walk out the door.

The street outside is drenched, the sound of rain bouncing off the ground and the cars parked along the street filling my ears. The rain is coming down so hard already that I can barely see the buildings on the other side of the street. Rapid streams of water rush toward the storm drains with a soft tinkling sound, adding to the noise in the air.

My Rolls-Royce pulls out front and before George can get out, I open the door myself and hop in.

“I’m right behind you!” Noah shouts so I can hear him over the din of the rain, and I give him a nod. He prefers driving his own car whenever we go out, in case something comes up.

Despite being one of the fastest growing small towns in Vermont, Brattleboro only has a handful of taxis, and they’ve managed to scare Uber away for the time being. I have to admire their tenacity, holding a monopoly in this town isn’t easy. Having your own transportation is imperative. During the five-minute ride, I exchange my suit jacket for a trench coat that hangs to mid-thigh; at least my upper body will be protected from the storm. I also change into steel-toe boots and grab a hard hat from under the seat.

I may look the part of a polished CEO ninety percent of the time, but I’ve earned the respect of the men on my job sites, and I like to come prepared when I arrive. No one takes a man seriously, who is too scared of getting his shoes dirty to get a job done.

The storm came out of nowhere, or maybe I was just distracted enough to miss the signs. November in Brattleboro is always filled with rain. Snow is surely just around the corner with December not far off.

I slick my hand through my hair and pull on my hard hat as I exit the car. “Wait for me,” I instruct as I get out.

Hard rain immediately starts pelting the plastic on my head and beads off my shoulders. Still, I saunter toward the half completed building, boots splashing through small puddles. I rush for no one. My men are tucked under the roof of the ground floor, standing around waiting for instructions. They straighten when they see me. “Mr. Beaufort,” the head contractor, Bill says, stepping forward as I approach.

“Noah has a load of tarps and sandbags in his truck and should be here anytime. Set the bags up around the perimeter to avoid flooding and use the tarps to cover the concrete pilings that are still setting.” He nods just as Noah’s truck pulls up.

The men get to work immediately, and I join in to make things go faster. About thirty minutes later, everything is covered and protected from the downpour that has yet to let up. I’m glancing around the site with satisfaction when a flash of green catches my eye.

I squint into the rain and walk to where I saw the movement, running a hand down my face to remove the rain and sweat. A small figure hunched into himself is valiantly trudging through the rain, his arms tucked around his body.

Idiot.

“Hey!” I shout to catch his attention, and his head snaps up toward me. It’s a woman. The thought has barely registered when I take in the oddly familiar face. Gold framed glasses no doubt fogged up in the rain. Long hair plastered down her back. A body that’s shivering through the soaked green top and jeans.

“Autumn?” Since when does she wear glasses?

“Al—Alexander?” she asks through her chattering teeth as she looks in the general direction of my voice but not at me directly. Can she even see?What the hell is she doing out here?

I grit my teeth, anger filling my veins as I stride toward her and grip her upper arms tightly. Her head snaps toward me when I tighten my grip on her even further, but I’m beyond caring right now. I use my hold on her to drag her toward my car.

I rap on the driver’s window and Goerge unlocks the car. I swing the door open and guide her in, careful to protect her head, then slam the door shut. I try to calm myself as I round the rear of the car to get in through the other side. I’m so fucking angry right now. What the hell was she thinking, walking around in this storm?

“What the hell, Autumn?” I bark as I get into the car and she jumps, glancing at me, but even through the foggy glasses I can see that her eyes are unfocused. I mutter a vicious curse.

“Turn up the heat.” I tell George as I press a small button that rolls up the partition. Almost immediately, a blast of heat fills the car. I take the glasses off her and wipe them gently with the handkerchief I always carry in my suit jacket.

“Can you even see right now?”

Her brown eyes are still unfocused but they seem to be staring right at me as she licks her lips and whispers a no. My balls tighten at the vulnerable air around her, and I scold myself. Now is not the time to be getting aroused dammit.

When the glass is completely cleaned, I shift closer to her and brush her wet hair away from her face. Her shivering has stopped and she stills at the contact. “Alex?”

“Shhh,” I murmur as I gently draw the fabric down her face, wiping the water away slower than necessary. My gaze drops to her pebbled nipples showing through her wet top.

It’s because she’s cold, I tell myself as I raise my gaze back to her face, which is now dry. I toss my jacket aside and dragthe back of my hand down her smooth cheek. She inhales sharply, goosebumps appearing on her skin. Her lip trembles, inexplicably drawing my gaze to them. They’re wet from the rain and glistening. And so pink. My breathing picks up as I lower my head toward her.

“Alex?” she whispers, and I immediately jump back. What the hell? What the fuck am I doing? I take her right hand and place her glasses in them.

“Here.”

Her fists clench around the glasses, and she quickly puts them on. Fuck, why does that make her even hotter? Control. I pride myself in having a lot of it. So why is this woman shaking it?

She bites her lip as her gaze meets mine shyly. “Hi.”

“What the hell were you doing out in a storm, Autumn?” I ask, my voice harsher than I intend it to be.

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