Wes’s heart took an elevator up to his throat. “What? Text her back. Tell her to wait for me—”
The phone beeped again. “Never mind,” Stephen read aloud. “I googled it.”
Wes propelled himself out of the bar into the rain, visions of Bethany slipping and falling chilling his blood.
Apparently one more fight was in order before he won her back.
Although, had he ever had her in the first place?
Chapter Eighteen
Bethany spit rainwater out of her mouth and did her best to unfold the tarp blind. No matter how she positioned herself on the roof, the rain seemed to slant directly into her face, so she planted her feet shoulder-width apart and sarcastically thanked Mother Nature for this glorious piece of timing.
She was not too proud to admit she should be anywhere but a rain-slicked roof during a storm. In fact, she would even have given the job to Wes, if she hadn’t fired him in the bonehead move of the century. But she’d spent six hours on that roof this afternoon, her hands were torn to shit, her back was sore, and something felt broken inside of her. So she was going to salvage her hard work, dammit, and everything in the line of fire beneath the leaks while she was at it.
Her right boot slid a little bit, but she righted her stance in time to get the tarp open. Going down on her hands and knees, she spread the blue covering and stapled it into place as close to the roof’s edge as possible. The wind and needlelike raindrops made it almost impossible to see what she was doing, but surely the worst of it would be over any second? The forecast said overcast through tomorrow. They’d all been lied to! Who would be held accountable?
She was being dramatic, but whatever. She was soaking wet on a roof beneath a full moon and there’d been a rocky turbulence inside her since that afternoon. Even before the rain started, she’d been pacing in her living room, unable to sit still. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t have this awful foreboding in her stomach because of a man.
It was never like this.
At worst, when she decided her association with a man had run its course, she felt mildly peeved when they didn’t try and get back in her good graces. Not that she ever let them. But the chance of Wes deciding she was too much trouble . . . it really truly scared her.
He’d hung in there through countless traded insults and arguments. He’d witnessed a near panic attack at Georgie’s wedding. He hadn’t even flinched at the ugly mark on her neck. Would the blow she’d dealt to his pride be the final straw?
She hadn’t wanted to fire him.
He was the Zellweger to her Cruise.
There were feelings. She had feelings.
Bethany adjusted the hood of her jacket so the rain would stop dripping in her eyes and set about laying out the second tarp. She secured one corner, then crawled slowly toward the opposite end of the roof as the blue tarp flapped in the wind. The coarse material of the shingles bit into her knees through her jeans, but she welcomed the distracting pain.
What was it that really scared her about Wes leaving this afternoon and not even looking back once? The slam of his truck door reverberated with such finality. It was the sum of her fears, wasn’t it? That a guy would finally know all the negative things about her and leave. Isn’t this what she’d been avoiding for so long?
The proof that she was imperfect.
Bethany swallowed hard and picked up the pace of her crawl. Making it across the roof, she applied the final staple. There. Done.
Still . . . maybe she should check for unsecured openings. She’d lost Wes today. She wasn’t going to sacrifice all the hard work they’d accomplished together on the house, too. The added blow would be unbearable. Just a few more minutes and it would be perfect—
“Goddammit, Bethany!”
Wes?
She twisted toward the sound of his voice, though she couldn’t be sure where it was coming from because the wind was so strong. As soon as her head turned, the rain lashed her in the face and she flinched, dropping the nail gun. She tried to snatch for it blindly, but missed and lost her balance.
Bethany slid on the part of the roof that hadn’t yet been tiled, a scream ripping from her throat. There was an unnerving moment of clarity where she realized death was imminent, right before her body went sailing over the edge. In a sudden burst of self-preservation, her fingers caught on the ancient rain gutter and clung, but just like everything else attached to the house, it was too old to be viable and a snapping sound was her only warning before it gave, leaving Bethany dangling from the edge of the broken gutter.
“Wes!”
“I’m here. I’ve got you, baby. Let go.”
“I can’t. Are you insane?”
“I won’t let you hit the ground, you know that.” His voice was stronger than the storm, tunneling inside her and putting down roots. “Come on. I’ve got you.”
It was the biggest leap of faith she’d ever taken. Perhaps she never would have realized that she did, in fact, trust Wes—maybe more than anyone—if she wasn’t dangling from the roof like a sodden monkey. But she wholeheartedly trusted that he would catch her and she let go with a squeak. His arms banded around her a split second later, her body colliding with his hard one, and Wes stumbled back a pace. He positioned her more securely against his chest and then he was moving.
Bethany’s view of Wes’s face was obscured by the hood of her rain jacket, but she saw his leg strike out and kick open the door to the house. He stomped them both inside and set her down carefully in the pitch black, leaving her to shiver and drip onto the floor. A moment later, one of the hanging lights came on across the room, illuminating Wes—and wow, he was pissed.
The masculine planes of his face were highlighted on one side, blanketed by the darkness on the other. His breaths were harsh and uneven, joining the pelting rain as the only two sounds in the room. Besides her heartbeat, that was. The sight of him was so welcome, her heart seemed to be beating even harder than it had been while suspended from the gutter. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing would come out. What could she say? This buildup inside of her was so unusual and it ached. She had no idea what kind of words it would produce.
Wes had no such problem finding something to say.
He took off his drenched hat and threw it across the room, where it slapped off one of the only finished walls in the house. “Goddammit, Bethany. Of all the stupid—” He pressed a fist to the center of his forehead, slowing his breathing. “I’m rehired. Simple as that. If only to keep you from killing yourself by being stubborn as shit. And it’s permanent. You can haul off and fire me as many times as you want, baby, but I’m going to show up every morning like it never happened. Deal with it.”
A warm cloak of relief landed on her shoulders, wrapping tight. The assurance that he would keep coming back, even if they fought, even if she freaked out and did something she regretted . . . God, she was already breathing easier. Like she’d had a sandbag on her lungs until now. Her knees started to shake, not from weakness, but with the need to go to Wes. She didn’t question the impulse; she didn’t have the willpower to quell it this time. Not after he’d shown up here, not after he’d caught her midair, not after she’d missed him so much.
Bethany walked straight into Wes’s bristling frame and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was grateful for the rain still decorating her face because it camouflaged the warm, salty tears that fell from her eyes.