He smirks and shakes his head. “There’s no point in trying to deny it. I’d remember your face anywhere. You know I wanted you that night just the same as Ethan did. I guess I lucked out in the end, though—and you did too. You’d have been disappointed if you lured me into that bathroom. I don’t keep much cash on me.”
An angry flush overtakes my cheeks.
“I’m Grant, by the way.”
He holds out his hand, like I’d actually want to shake it after the snide remarks he just slung at me.
Instead, I let it hang there in the air before he laughs and lets it drop.
“Looks like Ethan has his hands full with you. I suppose it’s no coincidence that you’re here, though I would have appreciated if he’d told me. Maybe I would have come out here to check on the site sooner.”
His double meaning is clear by the way he’s leering down at me.
I’m dangerously close to losing it. Tears or fists are about to fly, but the first would make it so I could barely meet my own gaze in the mirror and the second would leave me without a job. I take a deep breath and force myself to stay calm as I glance up into his cold, haughty eyes.
“Whatever you think happened at that bar didn’t. You should talk to Ethan.”
“I’d rather talk to you.”
“Taylor, Grant,” Hudson shouts from a few yards away. “The meeting is about to start.”
Of course, the meeting Grant will help run. I’m supposed to be present to take notes and provide any assistance if need be as we all crowd into the trailer together. Introductions are done quickly and I’m immediately intimidated by the group. There are two women and two men here as representatives of the luxury resort company, all more polished and put together than I could ever hope to be. I grab a notepad and pen, but Grant speaks up before I settle back into a chair in the corner.
“Taylor, I’d like some coffee. I left mine in the car.”
The request might seem innocuous to everyone else, but not to me.
I don’t say a word—knowing there’s nothing to say—before I rise to fulfill his request. By the time I return, the meeting is in full swing. I walk quietly around the perimeter of chairs to hand it off to him, and he takes one look at it then wrinkles his nose. “Could you add some cream?”
There’s no way to protest, no reason to. I’d look crazy if I did.
So I take that cup and rush back to the mess hall so I can add a splash of cream and not even an ounce of spit—which is really something I’m proud of—before I hurry back to the trailer.
He’s still not happy. His mouth opens to object, but Ethan beats him to the punch.
“If you’re that particular about your coffee, Grant, get up and get it yourself. You’re disrupting the meeting.”
Silence ensues as everyone turns to look at us.
Grant unfurls a smirk and holds up the cup in a silent cheers. “It’s fine. Continue.”
I hurry to my chair and try to make myself disappear, but it’s no use. Grant does everything possible to keep me involved. When everyone stands to tour the site, he insists I come along and stay by his side.
“I need you to take notes. You know how to do that right? Or does Ethan have you performing other duties?”
I hate that no one else hears him. I hate that I’m so close to making a scene.
Ethan is ahead of us, at the helm, talking with the clients. He’s running the show and though I want nothing more than to have a private word with him, it’s just not possible right now. He has a job to do, and so do I. I stay by Grant and keep my spine straight and my chin up. I fulfill my duties to the best of my ability and try hard to ignore the few tasteless comments he aims my way, insinuations about what I am to Ethan and what my role actually is here on site. He cloaks his accusations in euphemisms, but there’s no mistaking his malicious intent.
After lunch, I’m not sure I have the energy to continue. The clients are gone, but Ethan’s partners are still here. Apparently, they have more work to do before they head back to Austin. My stomach fills with dread. I