Page 4 of Worthy (Adrenalin #1)

Chapter three

Maddox

I spend the weekend locked in the house for two reasons. One, since the guys didn’t work over the weekend, I had two whole days with no distractions to break my concentration, and that allowed me to make some good progress on my thesis. And two, I was too ashamed to even think about leaving.

I’m well aware how news travels in a small town, and a new person would probably draw attention no matter what. But said person driving Cade’s truck after accusing the guy of being stupid enough to block his car? Well, let’s just say I had little interest in facing him after that.

I felt like the biggest asshole in Katah Vista, Colorado.

Sure, I was kind of distant in the beginning because it’s obvious he’s trouble, and I didn’t want to encourage him, but I never meant to be downright rude or condescending toward Cade.

I’m sensitive to coming off that way because of my family, too. Despite being wealthy, they aren’t the type of people to look down on others. Well, with the exception of their thoughts on my career choice—hence my escape to the mountains to distance myself from their disappointment—I’ve been fortunate to be raised by people who taught me to treat everyone as equals. Even if others don’t treat us the same way.

It's generally assumed that since we’re wealthy, we’re elitist and aloof. My appearance doesn’t help considering I got my mother’s luxurious hair and my father’s athletic build, and since I’m on the quieter side—getting lost in my thoughts with too much ease—I play into the entitled stereotype without meaning to.

I try hard not to be an asshole, but sometimes despite my best efforts, that’s how I come off. And now, my treatment of Cade the other day is eating at me. I feel like I owe him an apology or…something.

Taking him up on his offer to show me around could work, assuming he’d even want to after I judged him so poorly, but that idea still has me a little leery. I’m way too attracted to him to trust myself in his company for an extended length of time, especially knowing I wouldn’t be the first or last person to cave to his charms. Normally, his lifestyle would be a massive turnoff—not that I object to casual hookups, I just don’t view them as a way of life the way he appears to. Yet, even though I don’t go for players, he tests that boundary for sure.

So, my amends can’t be anything involving the two of us alone. Cleaning his truck might be a nice gesture, if this town had a car wash, or I knew where to find a hose and a bucket, which I don’t. Buying something is always an option, though it requires leaving the house, and it would just make it look like I was buying his forgiveness. What else is there?

All I know about him is he works construction, drives a truck, likes to flirt, and would give you the shirt off his back– literally. I’m somewhat ashamed to say I wore said shirt all weekend because it held his woodsy scent. Still, not a single thing I’ve learned about him since comes close to telling me how to say sorry for acting like an entitled prick .

By the time Monday morning rolls around, I haven’t come up with a solution, and for lack of any better ideas, I go with the old adage about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach. Not that I want to get to his heart or anything, but maybe going through his belly is a good way to make an apology.

And not to toot my own horn, but I make a mean breakfast burrito.

I hear voices in the backyard just before eight, and spot Cade and Deacon walking the property. Cade seems to be pointing out different spots in the yard, maybe where they’re supposed to dig, and Deacon is nodding along. I guess it’s now or never.

The guys stop cold when they see me approach and give me a puzzled stare. Shit. This feels really awkward now. I blame the serving tray. I probably look like some frontier era househusband trekking across the lawn. Is that even a thing? Why didn’t I just chuck the burritos in a bag? Oh, right. I made coffee too. Jesus, this is embarrassing.

“Um, hey. Thanks again for the truck and I’m sorry about the mix up with the trailer last week. I should’ve realized you had no way of knowing I’d need the car. So, I uh, made breakfast, if you want it.” I hold out the tray of food.

Cade’s blue eyes roam over me, curious and somewhat amused. His cousin is the first to recover. “Sweet, I only had cereal this morning.” He comes to me and grabs one of the burritos and tears into the foil wrapper. “They’re still warm. Breakfast on the job, hot coffee—” he takes a mug “—man, I love this town.”

Cade creeps forward like I could pounce at him any second.

Why is his brow arched? Was it something I did? Said? Did I make this worse?

Belatedly, I realize making a guy breakfast is something you’d do when you have a crush, and with his ego there’s no doubt that’s what he’s assuming. Fuck! Now I’m blushing. Hopefully, since it’s pretty chilly, he’ll attribute my color to the air and not my mounting embarrassment.

“Thanks, Solo.” He takes the tray from my hands.

“Solo?” his cousin asks around bites.

“Maddox,” I correct.

“Deacon.” He lifts his coffee like he’s giving me a wave.

“Why don’t you head back inside?” Cade nods his head toward the door.

Wow. Okay. I feel like I’ve been dismissed from my own yard. Maybe I deserve that? But my feet won’t move. I was sort of hoping for him to acknowledge my apology, if not forgive me altogether. My words the other day must’ve been more insulting than I realized.

Cade sets the tray on the ground and turns back to face me. “You frozen in place or something?” His eyes roam over me and the wintery clothes I’m wearing.

“I…what?” I stutter.

“You’re shivering. You’re not used to the weather here. There’s no need to stay out here and turn blue while we eat. I’ll bring this back later.”

It occurs to me that I am shivering, which only adds to my humiliation since the two men are standing outside in little more than jeans and Henleys. I nod silently and turn back to the house, feeling like even more of an outsider than I did just a few minutes ago.

Back indoors, I straighten up the kitchen then fall onto the couch with my laptop with the hope of getting some work done. But my mind won’t move on from Cade’s unreadable expression, and that worries me.

I’m not here to socialize or make friends. I’m here to work, ideally without the distractions I’d have if I was back home. For the most part I haven’t had many, which is good. It’s what I wanted. Although truth be told, the distractions Cade has provided have been some of the most interesting parts of my stay so far.

Even though talking to him sort of infuriates me, it makes me feel alive, too, since I have to consider my words carefully, and I’m enough of a nerd to enjoy the challenge. And yeah, the guy is cocky and somewhat arrogant, but he’s also kind of considerate. Endearing. It’s clear underneath the cocky exterior is a genuinely nice guy, and while I don’t want to get too close to him, I don’t want him to be a stranger either. After all, he’s basically the only person I know here.

No one has been unfriendly, far from it, but no one has offered more than a few pleasantries either. While I thought quiet is what I wanted, after talking to Cade a few times I realized some conversation is nice. If the person I’m most likely to see every day thinks I’m an asshole, this could be a lonely summer. Last week, that sounded perfect.

But now…

A knock jogs me back to the present. I make my way to the back door, expecting to see the tray sitting on the stoop, but instead I find myself facing Cade, tray in hand.

“Okay to come in?” Dumbfounded, I step back to watch him carry the tray to the sink and set it down.

“Thanks for breakfast. That was a nice surprise,” he says, giving me a slight up-nod.

“Sure. Yeah. I hope you liked it.” I shut the door and shove my hands in my pockets.

“I loved it. I don’t usually get a hot breakfast before work. You didn’t have to go through all that trouble over the truck.” He rests his hip against the counter.

He loved it? He didn’t seem so excited when I brought it out.

“It wasn’t trouble.” I lean against the door, trying to look as casual as he does. “And it wasn’t just about the truck. I mean, it mostly was, but I was kind of a jerk about the trailer.”

“You weren’t a jerk. I was an idiot.”

“I thought so at first, but I was wrong.” I lift my shoulder indifferently, caught between wanting to downplay my househusband moment from earlier and wanting to genuinely make up for thinking badly about him. “Sorry.”

“So, breakfast was like…an apology?” He sounds astonished.

My stomach does a little flip. I’m not sure if that’s because this conversation is making me nervous or because he’s staring at me kind of in awe.

“Yeah, I guess.” Against the door I feel like I’m on stage, so I move to the island and take a seat in one of the barstools.

“No one’s ever made me breakfast before.” He smiles, not one of those sexy ones but a genuine, appreciative smile. Then without warning he turns serious, “Wait, is that why you stayed hidden away all weekend? You thought you owed me an apology?”

“What?” How did he guess that?

“I know you didn’t leave the house or someone would’ve told me they saw my truck. Did you shut yourself in here because you thought I was upset?”

Awe. He’s definitely looking at me with awe now. Great . “No. I didn’t leave because I had work to do.”

“What kind of work?”

“Oh, um, my thesis,” I say distractedly, wondering if he’s asking to be polite or Rick never mentioned it when he told them I was coming for the summer.

“Like for a PhD?” He looks at me curiously.

“Yeah. ”

“Hmm. In what?” He leans back against the counter and crosses his ankles.

“Environmental Science.”

“And what do you do with that?”

“Study the effect of climate change and development, find alternative energy resources, monitor the health of soil and plants…” I trail off, looking to the yard outside.

“Your interests make you embarrassed?”

“What? No!” My gaze snaps back to his.

“Then why are you blushing?” A hint of a smile crosses his lips, telling me I’m busted.

I sigh heavily. “Most people think it sounds boring.”

“Is it boring to you?” he asks.

“No.”

“Then who cares what anyone else thinks.” His hair sways gently as he shakes his head.

“Easy for you to say,” I laugh without any humor. “Your family probably accepts your job and career. They probably aren’t asking you why you don’t work in an air conditioned, aseptic office wearing a suit and tie and having a catered lunch...” I inhale sharply as my eyes snap shut, as if I can pretend I didn’t just unload on Cade as long as I can’t see him.

I’m not even sure where my little rant came from. I'm not at odds with my family, we get along great, they just don’t follow why I’d choose to work outside the family business, especially in a job that doesn’t offer the same perks or pay they enjoy.

Cade chuckles. “Maybe not. But my family, hell the whole town, is wondering when I’m going to take an interest in running the family business instead of putting in my time and going to look for some fun. I know how it feels when there’s too much outside interest in your life.” He locks eyes with me and holds my gaze, his tone so casual it sounds like it’s no big deal to have people second guess your actions.

“The scrutiny doesn’t bother you?” I search his face for signs that this is one of his ‘hospitable’ moments to make me drop my guard.

“Nah. It’s my life, the only person I need to worry about is me.” He pushes off the counter and takes a step toward the island. “Besides, in a small town, people always have an opinion or think they know your business. You’ll never survive if you let that get to you.”

“Huh.” I turn his words over in my mind.

What he says is kind of intriguing. Although my family doesn’t understand my choices, they’ve never disagreed with them. You could make the argument that they support them since they’re paying for my education. Yet for some reason, I always feel like I have to justify myself. I guess that’s why I clam up, maybe even blush, when talking about my degree. I wonder if people will respect my choice or think I’m wasting my time. But Cade’s right, it’s my time. I should spend it how I want and not worry about what anyone else thinks.

Wow, who knew the town flirt could offer such great insight?

“You seem surprised. Didn’t think we’d have that in common, did you?” He rests his forearms on the counter with a coy grin.

“Uh, no.” I feel my face heating up again.

“Why?”

“Because your conversation setting seems to be permanently on flirt. Or tease. I thought that was because you didn’t take things seriously, and I expected you to make light of my comments instead of relating to them.”

“I would never make fun of how you feel,” he says softly, studying his fingers.

“Not make fun of, make light of. You know, try to make me laugh or something.” I lace my fingers together on the counter to give my hands something to do. “But you bring up a good point. You genuinely don’t live your life for other people, and I respect it. Hell, I envy it and need to learn how to do that myself.”

Now it’s his turn to be surprised.

“I’m not sure taking a page out of my book is the way to go.” He shakes his head slowly back and forth. A warning.

“Why not?”

“I have no real goal except enjoying life. You probably don’t want to mimic my logic, considering you’re trying to earn a PhD.”

“But I might enjoy my own goals more if I’m not worrying about what others think of them.” I reason with a little shrug.

“Still not sure that’s a good idea, Solo.” He stares out the window, a distant look on his face. “The art of not giving a fuck doesn’t really lead to success.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to stop caring, I just want to care less about what people think. Like you said, it’s my life.” I point to my chest. “If I’m happy with my choices nothing else matters.”

“Yeah, okay,” he relents. “Do what makes you happy. I better get back to work.” He pushes himself off the counter and heads toward the back door.

“Wait,” I bark, jogging to the table by the front door and returning with his keys. I hold them out to him, but instead of taking them he just stares blankly ahead.

“I can’t get the trailer moved until this afternoon,” he says flatly.

“I don’t have anywhere to be today.” I jiggle the keys.

He reluctantly takes them, his fingers brushing lightly over mine. I inhale sharply at the electricity the contact elicits, holding my breath to see if he notices. If he does, he doesn’t comment, just pockets the keys and turns toward the door.

“Thanks again for breakfast,” he says quietly as he steps outside.