Drilled Read online

  I was hoping to play off their suspicions, especially Tex’s, but he was undeterred. “She seems nice.”

  “Very pretty!” Kai added.

  “It’s lucky, you ask me,” Tex said. “And who knows? Maybe she’ll be like Candice…”

  Candice. The drill site crane operator in Fargo who had become one of our closest friends and drinking buddies… Until she became more. One girlfriend for the four of us, balancing out with our chaotic shifts and rotating schedules. Shared among me, Kai, Jason, and Tex—individually, and sometimes together. The nights where Kai and I would come home and she’d be waiting with a case of beer and a lusty smile…

  It still amazed me how natural it had all been. No jealousy or discomfort. Just four guys sharing one girl: emotionally, intellectually, and physically.

  Until she was transferred down to Texas.

  “I don’t know if Lexa would be down for that,” I said. I never thought we’d find another situation like Candice. “Most girls aren’t.”

  “This is true,” Kai said sadly.

  “Hey, you never know,” Jason said. His eyes widened. “Bro, if her condo is only a few blocks away we can walk to work!”

  “Right?” Tex said. “Get some fresh air every morning…”

  Before I could argue any further, my phone buzzed:

  Unknown: Thanks for covering for me in there.

  I glanced at the others to make sure they hadn’t noticed, but they were busy arguing over who would have to share a room.

  Me: How’d you get my number?

  A moment later:

  Unknown: The meeting invite on the computer. Casimiro Floyd. I’m not sure staying at my place is a good idea. Tell the others no.

  I agreed with her. It was a bad idea for a whole bunch of different reasons. But hearing her say so made me buck against it. Why didn’t she want me there? I’d done nothing but think about her for the past month and now she was here. Were we supposed to just ignore each other now?

  Me: The others are awfully gung-ho. They’ll get suspicious if I put my foot down.

  A second later I sent another text:

  Me: I bet your boss would get suspicious, too.

  Because I was betting that was who she really didn’t want to know about our hookup. It was a dirty trick to throw it in her face, but then again, it was a dick move to ditch me at the bar that night.

  The text message bubble appeared, disappeared, then appeared again before she finally responded.

  Unknown: The bar has to stay our secret.

  The agreeable subtext sent a surge of happiness up my chest. I was going to get to see her again, and not just behind the desk at the company we were investigating. The relief I felt was exhausting.

  “Alright, you’ve convinced me,” I said. “Let’s rent the condo. But only if I get my own room.”

  “Rock paper scissors?” Kai asked Tex.

  “Hold on a sec. Why are we just letting Cas claim a room but I can’t?”

  “Because otherwise I’m against the move,” I said.

  They grumbled but started discussing the rules of rock paper scissors: best three out of five, round robin between them and Jason. While they did that, I shot a text back to Lexa:

  Me: It’ll be like it never happened.

  But it had happened, a fact I wouldn’t be able to forget because I desperately wanted it to happen again.

  8

  Lexa

  It’ll be like it never happened.

  I stared at the text message and didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. He was agreeing to my demand. Did I really want him to?

  Or did I want him to push the issue?

  I sent him the address and told them they could move in tomorrow.

  It was probably a bad idea. We shouldn’t do it. But the alternative was Bryson wondering why, and that would lead to more questions. I wasn’t a good liar. Eventually my guilt would be obvious to anyone who looked at my face.

  It was true, but it also felt like an excuse to get Cas into my apartment.

  Bryson came strolling into the lobby with the trays of food in his arms. “Got some extra sandwiches and cookies here,” he said, placing them on the counter. “The oatmeal raisin ones are soft and delicious.”

  “Thank you,” I said, realizing I hadn’t eaten lunch. I’d been too busy worrying about my new situation.

  “That’s a hell of a stroke of luck, huh?” he said. “You’ve got a place to rent out. They need a place to stay. It won’t be for long, but still.”

  “Very lucky,” I agreed.

  Yep. I would have struggled to say no without sounding like I was hiding something.

  “Thanks for bringing the food into the meeting. Oh, and the message for Cas, too.”

  “No problem. Part of my job to answer the phones, right?”

  “What’d the message say?”

  I looked at him, unable to think of anything to say. He took my delay differently than I intended, holding up both hands. “Not trying to snoop. But he said it wasn’t important, but I got the impression it was.”

  Shit. Now he’s suspicious in the other direction. Stall, Lexa.

  “You can’t say you’re trying not to snoop right before to do some snooping,” I said with teasing smile.

  Bryson laughed. “Alright, you got me. I’ve just…” He hesitated. “I’ve got a weird feeling about those four. Do you know what I mean?”

  I pretended like I was thinking it over. “I dunno. They seemed nice, I guess, based on the few seconds I saw them.” Then, with a flash of cunning, I said, “If you’ve got a bad feeling, why don’t you hire a different group? I’m sure you got to where you are by following your instincts.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” he said, staring at the wall. He shook it off and left without pushing the issue further.

  I slumped onto my desk when he was gone. I needed to think of something vague to tell him if he asked about the note again. Call me when you get a chance, or, Sent you a report to look at ASAP. Those sounded benign enough.

  The rest of the day went smoothly. I ate some lunch before moving the leftovers into the break room for anyone to take. Bryson was right that the oatmeal raisin cookies were delicious.

  I stared at my phone and wondered what Cas was doing.

  My condo felt different that night as I made dinner and then curled up with my book. It was the last night I would have by myself. I hadn’t had roommates since college, and I was the kind of girl who appreciated her privacy. An introvert who liked to hide away in the darkness. The idea of renting a room out and getting extra cash was appealing, but having an actual tenant in my personal space wasn’t.

  Having four of them? It was an overwhelming thought.

  The doubt crept into my mind and took hold with its sharp, painful claws. I wondered if I should text Cas and make sure this was what he wanted to do. But he’d seemed certain earlier. What else could I say? Maybe just a text confirming things.

  Before I could, my phone buzzed:

  Cas: Why did you disappear that night at the bar?

  My heart fluttered at seeing his text. That he’d been thinking of me at the exact moment I was thinking of him.

  Me: I don’t know.

  It wasn’t true. I’d disappeared that night because I only wanted it to be a one night thing. Sticking around to make small talk and exchange info had sounded pointless at the time. After all, what guy would want to go on a second date with the kind of girl who had random bar hookups?

  Cas: Was it something I did?

  My fingers flew as I texted back as fast as I could.

  Me: No! Definitely nothing you did.

  Cas: I don’t believe you

  I couldn’t tell if he was being flirty, or if he was genuinely hurt by me disappearing that night? The latter seemed unlikely. Cas was a muscular oil worker. Besides, guys liked random hookups without strings attached.

  Right?

  Me: It wasn’t anything you did. Trust me.

 
; Cas: I’d trust you more if I could hear you say it in person. Meet me for a drink?

  The invitation was tempting. Meeting in person would allow us to get everything out in the open—both about that night at the bar and our situation at Blackrock Energy. A lot of communication was lost of text message. Seeing him would help make everything very clear.

  But I knew that would be a mistake. Even if it was a mistake I wanted to make.

  Me: I’m already in for the night.

  Cas: Good, because I’m outside

  It took two seconds before the text sunk in. Outside, as in outside my condo? I started to laugh and reply with a joke, but instead I rose from the couch and went to the window. Slowly, I drew back the curtain.

  Double-parked on the street in front of my condo was a white Jeep, and leaning against it with his hands in his pockets was Cas. He casually removed a hand to wave.

  It would have been stalkerish in any other circumstance. Show up at a girl’s house like this? Texting me while being right outside my condo? It sounded like the beginning of a Dateline special.

  Except it wasn’t creepy. Not even close. I was glad to see him there, outside, staring up at me like he belonged there.

  I started to text him to ask how the hell he knew were I lived, but of course that was a stupid question since I’d already told him my address.

  Cas held up one finger, then began tapping on his phone with his thumbs.

  Cas: So can I come up or what? I’m freezing my toes off.

  Me: Toes are overrated

  He laughed at my joke, but put his phone away and then crossed his arms, waiting. It would have been rude to leave him out there. At least, that’s what I told myself.

  I went downstairs and opened the door, letting in a rush of cold air. He strode forward with his hands in his pockets, as cool as cool could be. The exterior lights on my condo reflected in his stormy eyes as he approached. I stepped aside to let him in, then closed the door.

  “Hi,” he said, with a hint of a smile touching his lips.

  “You shaved the ponytail.”

  He ran a hand through his short-cropped blond hair. “Easier to manage when it’s short.”

  “You know, it’s awfully creepy showing up at a random girl’s house like this.”

  “You’re not a random girl,” he said smoothly. “Plus, we need to talk. And I didn’t want it in my text message history.”

  “Creepy and paranoid,” I said as I pushed past him. “All you need now is a little arrogance and you’ll win the narcissist triathlon.”

  As I led him upstairs, I could feel him staring at my ass. Or maybe I was hoping he was staring. I was wearing pajama pants, which didn’t hug my curves as much as other clothes might, but I could still feel the fabric pulling tight on my smooth skin with each step. Did it excite him? It excited me. What was going to happen?

  What are you doing, Lexa?

  “I never would have taken you for a Casimiro,” I said as we exited the stairs into the kitchen.

  “It’s Brazilian.”

  I turned, then looked him up and down.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said with a laugh. “My grandma was Brazilian, and my mom liked the culture enough to name me after her grandfather. I got teased for having a weird name until I was in my 20s.”

  “I like it,” I said, and meant it.

  He looked around. “This is a really nice place.”

  “Don’t seem so surprised.”

  “Do you always take compliments as insults?” he asked with a grin.

  I needed to bring up the topic we were avoiding: that we had to keep our little fling a secret. But he smelled so good, and it felt better to keep flirting like this because it kept that gorgeous smile on his hard face…

  “We can’t tell anyone,” he said first. “We have to keep it a secret.”

  Even though I agreed, and even though I’d been the one to insist exactly that by text message earlier today, hearing the words come out of his mouth stung. “You embarrassed about what happened?”

  “Hell no,” he said with a shocking amount of fire in his voice. “But my team is here on a job. We have to keep it professional. Knowing you and I slept together… Would complicate things for us. That’s all I can say.”

  That’s all I can say? There was nothing unusual about his reasoning: it totally made sense. But he was acting like there was some other reason for the secrecy beyond what I could see. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were safety auditors. It would taint their audit if it came out that he’d slept with an employee of Blackrock. A conflict of interest.

  Technically, I was still employed by the temp agency until Blackrock decided to hire me full-time. But I could still see all of this being dragged out in the open if there were ever an auditing or safety issue. People loved to throw dirt around to make people—or companies—look bad.

  “Do your coworkers even know you’re here tonight?” I asked.

  “Teammates,” he corrected. “We’ve been together a long time. We’re a team, not just coworkers. And no, they don’t know I’m here. They think I went out to buy snacks.”

  “Sounds like we have mutually assured destruction.” I stuck my hand out. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

  “Deal.” His grip was firm and warm, and I could feel the calluses on his fingers. He didn’t let go of my hand, and his steel eyes softened. “You know, I looked for you. Waited for an hour that night hoping you’d return. Tried to get the bartender to tell me your name. Hell, I even hung around the bar a few nights a week hoping you’d show up.” He looked around again. “It’s weird knowing you were here all this time. Just two blocks away.”

  He looked for me? My heart almost broke right then and there. Ditching him that night had been easy since I assumed guys wanted no strings attached, but hearing the subtle ache in his voice told me just how wrong my assumption was. The regret I felt for leaving him without saying goodbye was immense. I should have told him my name. He didn’t even know it until today.

  He held my gaze, and I was unable to look away. It was just like the moment in the hallway at the bar, right before he pushed me up against the wall and gave me the most eager kiss of my life. I stood very still and held my breath as I wondered what he would do next. I waited for him to make the move just like that night at the bar.

  Do it. Take me. Right now!

  He let go of my hand, and then the moment was gone. “When can we move in tomorrow?”

  I cleared my throat. “I can get off work at lunch to let you in. Unless you want to come earlier.”

  “Lunch works great. We’ll see you then.” His smooth cheek twitched in a smile. “Sweet dreams, Lexa.”

  His boots echoed as he went down the stairs and out the front door. I stood there in the kitchen, unmoving, long after I heard his Jeep leave.

  9

  Tex

  Everyone called me a worrier, but that’s just ‘cause they didn’t worry enough.

  Alright, yeah, sure. It was true that I fretted more than most. I’d always been that way. Growing up, I avoided playing rough at recess by hiding out in the lunch room to play chess with the other misfits. Do you know how many injuries happen on metal jungle gyms? Spoiler alert: a lot of injuries. I wasn’t gunna be one of them.

  That fear never really changed as I got older. My dad wanted me to play football, but I faked a leg injury to get out of that real fast. Even basketball was physical to the point of broken noses and knee injuries. And baseball? Don’t get me started about a 90mph fastball coming in high-and-tight. Granted, I wouldn’t have been good at any of the sports, but I made sure I never had to try. Instead, I focused on all the nerd activities. I read a lot. Played video games. Dungeons and Dragons? You bet your ass I had my robe and wizard hat ready to go. If it was an indoor activity, I was there.

  It shocked everyone when I joined the Army.

  Ridiculous, right? Wimpy kid signing up voluntarily to stand in front of guys with guns? Hone
stly, I don’t even remember why I joined in the first place. The routine story I liked to tell people was that I was like a Catholic school girl letting out all her repressed desires, but with danger instead of sexuality.

  Basic Combat Training was hell. It’s supposed to be, after all. But here’s the thing: I didn’t melt into a quivering puddle of a man. Paradoxically, Basic allowed me to relax. See, the thing about being a worrier was that it was all in my head. Constantly over-thinking, analyzing every decision I made. But when you’re a grunt at Basic, there’s no decision to make. Someone barked an order at the top of their lungs, and you obeyed. It was the best thing that ever happened to me: like someone had flipped a switch in my brain. What was the point of worrying if I didn’t have a choice?

  After boot camp, I wasn’t sure what to do. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. So I applied to be a combat medic. I flunked out of that real quick—turns out me and the sight of blood don’t get along real well. Can’t have a combat medic who faints in the middle of a firefight, can you? Lucky for me, I had a good CO, and he transferred me to the engineering corp. Learned all the basics of demolition, both setting up explosives and disarming them. Fixed bridge building and urban operations. I even learned the most efficient way to dig a foxhole, even though modern combat rarely put American soldiers in the position to need to dig a foxhole. But they made me learn it, so I did.

  Most importantly, I learned how to operate heavy machinery. All the basic earth movers, and then specialty equipment like rotary drills. I got certified real quick, graduating just in time to get my butt shipped out to Afghanistan.

  Yeah. I saw some stuff there, and that’s all that needs to be said about that. Forever changed my definition of the word danger.