Becky had always wanted a house with a porch, and now she had three outdoor living areas to choose from. The house she rented might not be the prettiest residence in Butte Plains, but it suited her perfectly. The wraparound porch began in the front, traversed the south side of the house, ending on the east side outside of the kitchen. She enjoyed nothing more than watching her backyard come alive each morning while she sipped her first cup of coffee. The birds and squirrels going about their business usually held her attention, but not today.
She’d had a difficult time getting to sleep the night before, and when she’d finally succeeded, her dreams had bordered on nightmares. Her life was changing, and once again, she had no choice in the matter. She’d had no alternative but to help her parents and younger brother get through her father’s illness. The decision had been the right one at the time. Staying in Butte Plains after her father passed away had been easier than trying to start over. Too much time had passed since her college graduation to try for a job in her chosen profession—or so she told herself. Colin had graduated from high school and announced he wouldn’t be going to college. He’d packed his guitar and a duffel bag of clothes and hopped the first bus to Nashville, where he’d achieved his dream of being a musician, and more. He’d written a couple of hit songs for other artists and sang lead for a band that was building momentum daily.
She didn’t begrudge him his success, but on days like today, she wished fate and circumstances hadn’t taken her choices away from her. If not for her father’s illness, she might have found a job in a big city, become something more than office manager for a failing company. Becky faced the harsh reality.
In a few months, she would be out of a job, and nothing remained for her in Butte Plains. Her mom would be fine, but if she wanted, she could move, too. She wouldn’t have any trouble finding a job in a nursing home in a big city.
What will I do? Office managers are a dime a dozen in big cities.
I could look for a job in marketing.
Yeah, and start at the bottom with all the kids with their shiny new degrees and probably a couple of summer internships under their belt.
As much as she wanted to blame Ford for her predicament, she couldn’t. He’d done what she had wanted to do—he’d made a life for himself outside of Butte Plains, and she understood why he would want to get back to it. Maybe if the factory had been in good financial shape, she could have talked him into letting her run the place, but, under the present circumstances, he had no choice but to shut down. If she were in his shoes, she’d do the same thing. But understanding the situation didn’t stop her from wishing for a way to keep the place open. She would survive, even if it meant moving to a big city, but concern plagued her about the other employees.
Manufacturing jobs were drying up across the country as businesses outsourced production to China and Mexico. Most of their workers had lived in Butte Plains all their lives. They had extended families to consider, too. She couldn’t help but think about the head of their shipping department, Todd Carver. His elderly mother lived with him, and she knew for a fact his neighbors helped keep an eye on her while he worked. Moving would be a major upheaval for Todd and his mother.
The more she thought about it, the more determined she became to convince Ford to keep the plant open as long as possible. There had to be some way.
Practicing her impassioned plea in her head, she wished the birds pecking at the birdfeeder a good day and went inside to get dressed.
~~~
Her new boss pulled into the parking lot as Becky got out of her car. She chalked his punctuality up to his desire to put Butte Plains in his rearview mirror as soon as possible. Waiting beside her car for him to join her, she thought about the man who had starred in her dreams last night. Sometimes he’d been the sexy seducer, making her body sing, then he’d be the monster raining terror on her quiet little world.
If she were to draw the man of her dreams, he’d be Ford Adams. She’d always been drawn to tall, dark, testosterone-overloaded men. If he had an ounce of compassion in his bones for his new employees, she might consider acting on her attraction, but he didn’t, so she wouldn’t. Then there was the part about him being her boss. She’d checked for a wedding ring, and his father would have mentioned his son becoming engaged. So, unless he had a girlfriend back home….
The expiration date on their professional relationship couldn’t have been stamped in more indelible ink, so there wouldn’t be any real harm in sleeping with him. It wasn’t like he could promote her from unemployed to employed. Only her scruples stood in the way of a fling with the sexiest man in Butte Plains.
She didn’t do flings. She’d had a brief relationship with a guy she’d met in the library her sophomore year of college. The chemistry between them had been off the charts, but David had been immature, skipping classes in order to party. He’d flunked out of school the spring semester and moved home to Colorado. Last she’d heard, he’d become a ski instructor at one of the smaller resorts in the winter, living off his parents the rest of the year.
Her scruples were there for a reason—to protect her from doing stupid things.
Damn scruples.
“Good morning.” She shaded her eyes from the morning sun with a hand to her brow.
“I don’t know what’s good about it.”
She opened her mouth to say it was a good day because she’d woken up on this side of the grass—an old joke her grandfather on her mother’s side had been fond of—but thought better of it before the words passed her lips.
Unlocking the door, she ushered Ford in ahead of her. She punched in the alarm code then flicked on the overhead lights. “Someone’s grumpy this morning.” He had a right to be. He’d buried his father yesterday, and today he had to begin the steps to shut down the business his ancestors had built. Nothing to be happy about in either of those things.
“Didn’t sleep well.” He stalked off in the direction of his new office.
His grumbled remark gave her the opening she’d been hoping for. She caught up with him as he sat down at his desk. “Did you come up with any ideas to keep the plant open? You know, a lot of good people are going to lose their livelihoods. Families are going to suffer. People are going to have to move to find other employment. Kids are going to have to change schools. And—”
“Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes! Volcanos! The dead rising from the grave! Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together… mass hysteria!” He powered up the computer while he ranted. “I get it, Becky Jean. I really do, but I’m fresh out of ideas.”
She shook with the need to pummel him. How dare he make fun of the situation? She clenched her fists at her sides and unclenched her jaw. “I can’t believe you’re quoting Ghostbusters! You might think this is all a joke, Mr. I’ve-got-plenty-of-money, but I can assure you, the people who depend on their jobs here will not think closing the plant is funny.”
Slamming her office door didn’t bring the satisfaction she’d anticipated. Becky crumpled into her desk chair and lowered her forehead to her arms folded on the desktop. She didn’t know what came over her, but when he’d begun quoting from one of her favorite movies, applying a scene she’d always thought hilarious to the present situation, she’d lost it. Every bit of civility she possessed flew right out the window.
So, so stupid.
She revisited the last few minutes, wondering how she could have prevented the scene from happening. Things had started out on an even keel. A pleasant good morning from her. A not-so-welcoming reply from him, making his mood apparent.
She’d goaded him. Poked the bear, and the beast had lashed out.
Great. Just great.
She owed Ford an apology. Just, not yet. Her outburst couldn’t have improved his mood, and it hadn’t improved hers, so waiting awhile—a year or so—would be a good idea. Give them both time to cool off.
~~~
Ford stared at the empty doorway. His ears still rang from her tirade, and his brain remained fixated on the image of her ass, walking out the door.
“Down, boy,” he cautioned his cock. “Can’t have her.”
He’d lain awake most of the night, contemplating his next moves, trying to come up with another solution to his problem besides shutting down operation of the factory. After finally drifting off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, he’d dreamed of making love to Becky Jean and woken with a boner he’d had no choice but to take care of in the only way available to him.
He hated to start the day jacking off, but the hand job and a cold shower made it possible for him to function. He’d been celibate too long, and he’d had a thing for Becky Jean in high school, even if had only lasted a day or two.
Well, a week. It had taken him a week to shift his lust to Cindy Price. She’d offered to give him a hand job behind the castle on the seventh green at Put Around Mini-golf. He’d taken her up on the offer and escorted her to prom in payment. They’d called it even after getting it on in the backseat of the limo on the way home. Last he’d heard, Cindy had gone to junior college in the next county and married some cowboy she’d met when the rodeo came to town.
Ford shook his head to clear it. He owed Becky Jean an apology. He’d let yesterday’s revelations overwhelm him, and in so doing, he’d forgotten how this would affect her. No matter what happened, he had a job to go back to, but she wouldn’t. She’d thought highly of his father, her tears at the funeral were proof enough, and even though her job was just as temporary as everyone else’s, she seemed more worried about the other employees than about herself. She had a college degree, and she seemed reliable enough. She’d find employment somewhere. Most likely she’d have to leave Butte Plains. She’d blame him, but hell, none of this was his fault.
He’d do the best he could for her, and for all of them. But he wouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
He picked up the phone, intending to call the office next door to remind Becky of the reports he needed. When his door opened and she stepped inside carrying an armload of folders, he set the receiver back in its cradle. “Ms. Parker.”
“Mr. Adams.” She placed the folders on his desk and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I was out of line earlier.” Backing toward the door, she continued, “Those are the reports you wanted. They’re on the server, but I thought you might need them printed out for… the bank?”
He offered her a weak smile, accepting her apology and her peace offering. “Thank you.” He thumbed through the stack, opening the one marked Accounts Payable. “This will be very helpful.”
“I don’t know what this month’s utilities will be, but I included copies of our bills for the last three months to give you an idea.”
“Becky. I owe you an apology, too. Quoting a silly comedy, under the present circumstances, wasn’t appropriate. My only excuse is I’m under a lot of stress. The words just came out. I’m sorry.”
“It was my fault. I pushed your buttons. I understand you’re focused on the immediate need to shut down, but I wanted you to see the broad picture, too. I was insensitive. You’re dealing with the loss of your father—now, all this.”
“We’re both under a lot of stress. This can’t be easy on you, either. I appreciate your concern for the workers, and believe me, if I could do anything to prevent this from happening, I would.” He shook his head. “I lay awake last night trying to come up with options.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope. Not a thing.”
Becky Jean bit her bottom lip, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Fuck. Time to get her out of there before he did something stupid like try to console her. Recalling the dream he’d had once he’d fallen asleep last night, touching her wouldn’t be a good idea, not even to offer comfort. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for these.” He tapped the stack of folders. “I’ll look them over before I have to leave.”
She nodded again. “The reading of the will at two o’clock?”
“Yes. How did you know?” He’d gotten a phone call this morning from his father’s attorney notifying him of the reading.
“Mr. Trumble called a few minutes ago. He said I should be there.”
“Why?” He couldn’t imagine why she’d be invited. Wills were private, to be shared only with the interested parties.
“He didn’t say, and I was too shocked to ask. Maybe it has something to do with the running of the company. It’s the only thing I could think of.”
Ford shrugged. “Could be. And since you’re the office manager….” He didn’t believe her excuse for a second. A cold sliver of unease slid along his spine.
She shifted her feet, her gaze landing everywhere but on him. “Umm.” She bit her lip again, and a sudden and unwanted urge to taste her lips hit him. Ford mentally pushed the thought away.
“Something else, Becky Jean?”
“Yes, sir. Everyone else is here—all the office staff.”
He sat back. He knew exactly what she wanted. Nothing good could come of telling the employees how temporary their jobs were. “There’s no need in stirring the hornet’s nest just yet, do you think? Let’s keep this to ourselves until we have a plan—a day or two at most. No use in everyone panicking before we have something concrete to tell them.”
“You’re right, of course. A couple of days won’t make any difference in the grand scheme of things.”
“My thoughts, exactly.” Only a day or two could make all the difference—he should know. Look at all that had happened to him in the last few days. He’d gone from a successful business man in his own right to a puppy kicker and dream destroyer in the blink of an eye.
Becky Jean backed out of his office. He braced for another slammed door. Hearing nothing, he relaxed. If he planned to get this thing done, he needed her on his side, or at least not fighting him.