Page 2 of Wild & Wanted

Hadley doesn't flinch this time. Instead, she reaches into her small shoulder bag, pulls out a folded slip of paper, and reads off the exact street address, the company name, King’s Logistics & Hauling, and the job title: Night-Shift Data Entry Specialist.

"This is no place for you to work," I say flatly, my green eyes narrowing. The warehouse is dark at night. It’s isolated. It’s no place for a soft, innocent girl to be sitting around until the sun comes up. She should be sleeping on a bed of clouds and rainbows or some shit.

Hadley’s smile remains firmly in place, but there’s an edge to it now. A challenge in those brown eyes of hers.

"Excuse me?" she asks politely, her tone dripping with sweet, deliberate cheer. "I didn't realize there were physical restrictions on typing numbers into a computer screen. Unless there's a heavy-lifting requirement for data entry I missed on the application? Or are all the workplace regulations around here pulled directly from the 1950s?"

I blink. It takes my brain three whole seconds to realize I’ve just been dressed down and thoroughly reprimanded by a five-foot-four redhead in a pink sweater.

A slow, helpless grin tugs at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it.

So the little angel has some fire in her veins.

The thought sends a dark, dangerous thrill straight down my spine. But beneath the amusement, my protective instincts are screaming. The warehouse only keeps three or four guys on the graveyard shift for loading docks, and they're buried in the back bays. A few other data specialists come and go during the night, working around whatever schedule they have, but Hadley would be the only one here all night. The idea of her sitting up here alone in the quiet dark makes my blood run cold.

I can't fire her, not when she has the right paperwork, and certainly not after she’s just challenged me so brilliantly. But I don't know what to do about it yet.

"You'll be working in my office," I announce, my voice dropping an octave, authoritative and absolute. "And I'll be working right alongside you for the first few days." Why did I say that? Shouldn’t I want more distance between us, not less?

An awkward, heavy silence stretches between us. Hadley’s brown eyes widen slightly at the decree, her lips parting, but she doesn't object.

I need to do something. I need to give my hands a job, give my brain a task, anything to stop the relentless, pounding rhythm in my chest that roars mine, mine, mine every time I look at her.

"Time to get to work," I mutter, sweeping my hand over my office space.

I usher her inside the relatively small room, though it feels bigger thanks to the windows. The smell of my leather jacket and stale coffee dominates the room, but the moment Hadley steps past me, her subtle vanilla and rain scent takes over.

Clearing off my heavy wooden desk with a single, rough sweep of my arm, I knock a stack of old folders out of the way. "Sit."

Hadley carefully sits down in my leather executive chair. She looks tiny in it, her curvy figure swallowed by the high back. I step up behind her, hovering far closer than professional courtesy dictates. My broad chest is inches from her shoulder as I lean over, reaching past her to hit the power button on the monitor.

The heat radiating off her body is unbearable. My jaw clenches so hard my teeth hurt. I keep my voice gruff as I point at the screen, walking her through the internal database, the logistics software, and the physical manifest logbooks stacked beside the keyboard.

"Login is here," I say, my voice husky, my eyes fixated on the delicate curve of her neck where a few stray red curls have escaped her ponytail. "You cross-reference the digital freight numbers with the physical bills of lading. Batch one is on the left. Any errors, you flag 'em."

"Got it," Hadley whispers. She looks over her shoulder at me, her dark eyes sparkling, her breath hitching as she registers just how close I'm hovering over her. Her breath tickles my lips, causing all the blood in my body to a particular appendage.

"Good," I rasp. I force myself to pull back, taking a large, deliberate step away from her desk. "I've gotta check... a thing. Work on the first batch."

Before she can answer, I turn and practically sprint out of my office, pulling the door shut behind me. Marching down the mezzanine stairs, I barge straight into the single-occupancy employee restroom at the end of the hall. I slam the door, lock it, and lean heavily over the porcelain sink.

Gasping for air, I slap the faucet handles open and scoop a handful of ice-cold water onto my face. I wash my neck, slick my hair back, and grip the edges of the sink until my knuckles turn ghostly white.

I look up into the spotty, cracked mirror. My dark green eyes are wide, blown-out, and manic. Water drips from my jawline onto my dark shirt.

"Get it together, man," I growl at my reflection, my voice a harsh whisper in the tiled room. "You're tired. You're stressed about the club. You've been working twenty-hour days."

I close my eyes, shaking my head viciously as her sweet face, her soft body, and that defiant spark in her brown eyes flash behind my eyelids.

"She's an employee," I sternly warn myself, pointing a wet finger at the glass. "She's an innocent kid. You don't do relationships. You don't do soft. You do your job, protect the club, and stay the hell away from her."

I dry my face with a paper towel, but as I stare back at my own reflection, a cold, terrifying truth settles deep in my chest. I'm lecturing myself, but it's already too late. I'm falling hard, fast, and at lightspeed for the red-headed angel sitting in my chair.

CHAPTER TWO

HADLEY

Istand in front of the dirty, cracked mirror in my motel room, carefully brushing out my long red hair before gathering it back into a neat braid. As the eldest of four kids back home in Barrington, I spent most of my life managing household chaos, smoothing over crises, and making sure my three younger siblings had what they needed before I ever worried about myself. Working double shifts as a motel maid early in the morning, followed by data entry at night is just another way to keep the plates spinning.