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Chapter 8
Rand
Monday again. It’s been a week since Tess started working at Moreau Construction. It’s been two days since I had my face between her thighs. And it’s been two hours since I masturbated to thoughts of her in the shower.
Finally, I’m in the office, running my hands over my desk and remembering what happened here last week. Only two minutes away from seeing my woman. I know she had to look after her mom and stepdad this weekend, but that didn’t stop me from obsessing about her non-stop since I saw her last.
Someone knocks on my office door and I start to stand, ready to sweep Tess off her feet and slam her against the wall. Grumbling, I sit back down when I see it’s just Jesse, looking entirely too chipper for a Monday morning.
“How have you been since I last saw you, Rand?” Jesse taps his pen against his lips as he strolls into my office. “Any new developments?” He tilts his head forward, giving me knowing bedroom eyes while the pen against his lips takes on a very suggestive motion.
Obviously, he thinks he knows something. “What are you implying?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that I ran into our gorgeous Tess in the elevator last Friday evening.” His voice takes on a sing-song cadence, eyebrows wiggling. “She looked like she’d had a very productive day.”
He takes a closer look at me, brow furrowing. “And you look like you’ve had a very long, lonely weekend.”
That’s enough. “Unless you have something useful to say, get out of here, you dumbass.” Grabbing my mouse, I pretend I’m captivated by someone on my screen. I don’t normally back away from a tough conversation, but right now I want Jesse out of my office before Tess gets to work.
“Alright, alright.” Jesse backs out the door, grinning wickedly. “But don’t forget our meeting at eleven about the OC project.”
Checking my watch, I see that it’s a few minutes after nine. Standing, I start the familiar trek down the stairs. I’ll wear a path in the carpet at this rate. A minute later, I’m staring at her closed office door. That’s odd, normally her door is open. I knock; no answer. I try the knob; it’s locked.
Stalking down the hallway, I look for Tess’ supervisor. She’s here today, but apparently is not at her desk at the moment. A sign on her desk reads, “Getting coffee. Back in 15.”
Damn. Where is everyone? I head back to my office, checking my phone on the way. No missed calls. No messages. Back at my desk, I call Tess’ personal number. After ringing a few times, it goes to voicemail. I hang up, not leaving a message.
My jaw clenches—with worry, with anger, or some combination of both. What the hell is going on? Where is Tess? I pace my office for a few minutes before sending an urgent email to Tess’ supervisor, demanding any information about where Tess is.
Seven minutes later, my office phone rings. “Yes?” I demand.
“Um, hello Mr. Moreau, sir. I was calling to tell you about Tess—”
“Tell me.”
“She emailed me yesterday requesting today off.”
My chest starts to swell with indignation and determination. She won’t get rid of me that easily. I’m about to end the call and drive to Tess’ home—if she wants to avoid me at work, well then, I’ll just have to see her at home.
Before I hang up, almost as an afterthought, I ask, “Did she say why?”
“Yes, sir. Apparently, her stepfather passed away last night.”
“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” I hang up. My shoulders slump and my chest deflates. Shit. Poor Tess. Poor Tess’ mom. No wonder she took the day off. She must be trying to help her mom.
Though, there’s not much anyone can do but be there. There’s no way to fix it. But having someone there is better than being alone. Obviously.
Here I am getting all worked up, and It has nothing to do with me. It’s a private family matter. We’ve only known each other for a week. There’s no reason she should have to call me.
That’s the thought that rubs me the wrong way—that she didn’t reach out to me. Not even a text. Running my hands through my hair, I continue pacing, trying to think it out. Frustrated, I sit at my desk, grab a bottle of whiskey from the drawer, and take a deep pull. I don’t care if it’s not even eleven in the morning. It’s already that kind of day.
My email dings at me as I take another sip. It’s from Thayer. More for distraction than anything else, I open his message.
Hey Boss, How is the lovely Tess? Does she miss me? Make sure to bring her with you the next time you stop by. In fact, go ahead and send her over by herself. I’ll make sure to show her everything I know… about architecture.
Son of a bitch.
Growling, I cap the bottle and slam it back in the drawer. Thayer’s email just pours fuel on my frustration. Fuck. I don’t even know if Tess will be coming back. She only moved to Oakwood City to help her mom out. She could quit at any time. She could go back to Fairview and finish her degree. For all I know, I might never see her again.
