Page 13 of Craving Consequences

EVERLY

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I was eighteen the first time I set eyes on Lachlan Shaw.

I’d been tagging along with my dad to grab fertilizer for Mom’s garden.

It was late May when we pulled into Juniper’s Nursery.

I wandered away for a few minutes only to return to find my dad talking to the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.

Tall and broad, and tattooed all over with the most serious eyes.

When Dad introduced us, Lachlan had barely given me more than an inclination of his head before returning his focus to his conversation with my dad. Which was fine. I did not expect him to fall to his knees and confess his undying affections.

Still, I enjoyed looking at him from a distance whenever I saw him in town. It was never serious. Barely a crush. Even then I knew nothing could ever happen between us. Not in Jefferson. Possibly not ever and that was fine.

Even when Bron returned after living with his mom for a year, my feelings for the Shaw men were neutral. Bron and I rarely crossed paths and when we did, we seldom acknowledged each other .

That all only changed when Van and Lauren moved to town two years later.

My friendship with Lauren brought Lachlan, Van and Bron into my orbit.

Seeing Van and Lachlan together, side by side, fictional men come to life, had been a thrill, but still I knew the rules — they were off limits.

Look but don’t touch. At the time, I had my parents and Lauren and no interest in dating anyone anyway.

Then my parents died, and my world fell apart. Walking into an empty house and expecting them there had shredded me. Left me in so many pieces I couldn’t even function.

In all that mess, Bron materialized into my life.

I woke up one day and he was everywhere, a relentless fly always hovering just out of reach.

He refused to accept my rejections. Refused to go away until I gave him a chance.

And it had been nice in the beginning. He showered me with attention and affection.

He made me think I needed him, and for a year I was so desperate not to be alone, I allowed him to dismantle me just to feel whole.

His father and Van did the opposite.

They put me together. They lifted me up and protected me. They reminded me that it was okay to be happy.

And I was happy. So happy ... with them.

Tucked in the driver’s seat of my dad’s old Honda Civic, I watch Lachlan heft a bag of concrete into the back of a flatbed like it weighs nothing.

Dust clings to his tatted arms and throat, sweat tracking through the grit that paints his skin.

He barks orders over the rumble of engines and the clatter of tools, his voice sharp and commanding.

The authority of someone used to being obeyed.

“Get those pallets secured. We’re not losing another damn bag on the highway,” he growls, jerking his stubbled chin towards one of the younger men fumbling with the straps. “And someone check the tailgate.”

He moves with the lethal ease of someone who spent his life breaking his body for a living. Tall, broad, with hands wrapped in calluses and scars. His shirt is dark with sweat and pulls tight across his chest each time he hauls another fifty-pound bag over one shoulder.

From across the ocean of crushed gravel, I watch him. I shouldn’t. God, I really shouldn’t, but he’s my Roman Empire. The hill I would die on. Him and Van. They are my Achilles heel.

Lachlan is a force of nature. Hard edges, sun kissed skin and that quiet, dangerous intensity that coils low in my stomach.

I grip the folder tighter in my lap, trying to focus on the rec center forms I need him to sign. That’s why I’m here. A simple task. Nothing more. My job.

His voice cuts through the air again, sharp and final. “If you can’t lift it, step back and let someone else do it.”

The crew scatters under his glare, moving faster. He wipes a forearm across his brow, the line of his jaw tightening as he reaches for another bag. Every movement is a study in grit and precision. Power barely unleashed.

I can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes. It’s not very loud. Barely a noise at all, yet as if pulled by some invisible thread, his attention pivots to me.

His eyes find my car.

Find me.

And like someone flipped a switch, everything about him shifts.

The scowl drops. His shoulders realign. The hard edges he wore for his crew smooths to a quiet calm. He straightens, dragging his hand through his messy hair.

No point lurking like a creep anymore, I open my door and slowly ease out on unsteady legs. The folder presses into my chest like a shield even as his gaze drags over me. Not with hunger, but with a careful intensity, like he’s assessing for injuries.

“Everly,” he says, voice low and almost gentle. The polar opposite of the tone he’d used with the men. “Everything okay?”

I make my way to him, closing all that safe distance until I’m standing before him. A kitten next to a bear.

“Good morning, Mr. Shaw. I ... I brought the forms ... for the rec center. The paperwork,” I babble in a mess of words.

His warm, brown eyes drop to the folder getting crushed in my arms. He nods once before taking a step closer, and I swear, the air thickens.

It solidifies and all I can feel is the heat coming off him.

His scent hits me, sawdust, sun, sweat, and something clean underneath it all. It wraps around my ribs and squeezes.

It’s so wrong. Horribly inappropriate.

But when he looks at me like that, like I’m the only soft thing in his world, I forget every reason I shouldn’t want him.

Lachlan doesn’t say anything right away. He just reaches out and takes the folder from my hands. Our fingers brush and the jolt of it shoots up my arm. It elicits a sharp intake of air I’m not quick enough to stifle that draws his darkened gaze to my face.

I flash him a quick smile like I’m not a terrible person and he’s silent, but I can feel the gravity of his thoughts before he turns away with my folder in hand.

“Come on,” he murmurs from over his shoulder.

I follow him past the truck where the crew still loads supplies.

“Well, hey there, Everly. You here to supervise or just bless us with your beautiful smile?” Tommy teases, swiping a forearm across the sweat over his brow.

“You sure are a tall glass of water this morning,” Syed adds, grinning broadly. “That’s a really nice dress.”

It’s all for fun. Most of them are happily married and for those who aren’t, the flirting is harmless.

They all know I’m in a relationship ... with the boss’s kid.

It doesn’t bother me, but I barely get the chance to respond when Lachlan’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp and unmistakably pissed.

“Back to work.” He doesn’t even look at them, barely pauses as he stalks past, muscles tight as he adds just loud enough to carry, “Next person who so much as looks at Everly will spend the next month loading and unloading the trucks alone.”

Their heads can’t turn away fast enough. I think I hear their necks crack as every person rushes away from me like I might turn them into stone. I feel heat crawl up my neck as I follow Lachlan.

He stops at the tailgate and drops it with a clang. The folder is slapped down on top.

“That wasn’t really necessary,” I tell him softly. “They were just being friendly.”

Eyes the warm brown of whiskey roll to me, pin me from their corners, dark with warning that has me swallowing audibly.

“They can be friendly with someone else. Not you.”

My heart kicks in my chest and I have to tell the idiot muscle he’s only saying that because I’m his son’s girlfriend, still ... I don’t miss the way his attention slips to my mouth before he turns his whole head away, leaving my lips tingling.

The muscles in his arms flex as he scribbles his signature across the required lines. My eyes trace the veins along his forearms, the smudges of dust at his temple, the way his hair curls slightly at the ends when they’re damp with sweat .

I shouldn’t be studying him so closely, not when there are so many eyes to catch me, but I can’t move away. We’re standing too close. Or I am.

“Want to come over tonight?” he suddenly asks without looking up.

“Come over?” I mumble stupidly.

The pen stills in his hand and he lifts his head to meet my gaze. “I’m having a small BBQ. Van’ll be there. Nothing fancy. Burgers mainly.” His voice is low. “You can bring Lauren, if you like.”

The words scratch coming up my dry throat. “Oh, we were going to meet at Mama May’s, but I’ll ask.” I lick my lips nervously. “Thank you.”

He scribbles his name on the last page and pauses. “That it?”

I lean in and flip through the pages, checking each line carefully.

Finding it all in order, I smile and lift my gaze. “Looks like you got them all.”

He’s too close. Too focused. His eyes are hot pools staring into my face. Ensnaring me in their barely restrained longing.

The sharp splinters of sun slant behind him, catching the edges of his jaw, the faint scruff darkening his throat. I feel the weight of his gaze, the way it lingers on my mouth before lifting to my eyes.

“Are you going back to work from here?”

I nod weakly. “Yes.”

“Carefully.”

It’s not a question. Not a request. He’s telling me. Leaving no room for disobedience when he’s carving the warning into my soul.

“Yes, sir,” I rasp lamely, and melt a little when the corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny grin.

“Good girl.” He extends the folder to me. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Heart hammering, I nod and clutch the papers tighter to muffle the chaos in my chest.

He starts to move away from me but pauses. I watch him struggle with whatever thought he’s trying to process before he glances at me.

“You do look really pretty.”

He gives me zero chance to find my senses before he stalks away, already shouting at the crew to get their asses moving.