Page 4 of Never and Always
No.
I had no idea where he was. Chance floated through life, bumming off friends and family. If he managed to snag a job, he never kept it long. I didn’t give him any money these days, but I knew Mom did. I’d learned years ago that I wasn’t helping him, just enabling him.
Mom was a softer touch.
Chance liked to gamble. No, Chancelovedto gamble. Cards mostly, but also every single get-rich-quick scheme or investment he could find. He was certain each one would make him an instant millionaire.
That still hadn’t happened.
I shoved thoughts of my brother out of my head, just as a tiny bullet of a kid raced across the lobby.
“Dylan, no! No running.” A harried mother chased after him.
The kid slammed into me.
My four-inch, black, patent leather Jimmy Choos made my legs look great, but they did not offer good stability.
I teetered.
The kid did too, and dropped the small bag of marbles he was clutching. They pinged off the floor, rolling everywhere.
What kid played with marbles these days?
“Dylan, oh no.” His mother grabbed him.
I took a step backward, stepped on a marble, and lost my balance.
Oh crap. I windmilled my arms, falling backward…
Into a set of strong, muscular arms.
Instantly, I was engulfed by the scent of citrus, spice, and wood shavings.
That combination shouldn’t be so enticing, but every time I smelled it, my belly coiled. I knew instantly who’d caught me. Every muscle in my body tensed.
I turned my head and looked up into gold-flecked, green eyes.
“Big city, I’ve warned you that you’re risking serious injury wearing those ridiculous ankle breakers.”
Everett Murray.
The flannel-shirt-and-jeans-wearing bane of my existence.
He was also head of maintenance for the Langston Windward. Although the man never wore his damn uniform.
I shoved away from him, trying to get back on my feet. It wasn’t easy wearing a tight skirt that reached my knees, and with marbles of death under my feet.
Of course, Everett had a huge smile on his face. He was outrageously attractive. Not in a slick, city way. No, Everett was all mountain man. From his long, rangy body to his tousled hair, that was brown with glints of gold in it.
He gripped my hip until I steadied.
I would not admit to anyone that his touch burned through the fabric of my skirt all the way to my skin.
I sniffed. “My shoes are perfectly fine. The tiny balls of death are to blame.” My gaze narrowed. “Where is the new uniform shirt I sent you? It was khaki. You said you didn’t mind it when I showed you the sample.”
He shrugged. “It’s cold today. It was definitely flannel weather.”
I swallowed a growl. The man was the definition of frustration. I’d sent him dozens of work shirt samples.
