Bad Bridesmaid (Billionaire's Club Book 11) Elise Faber (most read books of all time txt) 📖

had gotten word of what had nearly happened, and she ended up on a call with those two and the heads of the Health and Human Services and Occupational Health . . . and well, she didn’t want to get the cleaning staff in trouble, per se. They worked hard, but the team needed to find out if it was a lack of training that had caused the crew to be where they shouldn’t, or if it was because they were disregarding the protocols.

The details of how they sorted that out weren’t important—and not part of her job, suffice to say—but Heidi was very confident there wouldn’t be another issue.

Especially because as she’d left, she’d seen the keypad lock being installed on the door.

It would go into operation tomorrow, and she would be setting the codes.

Not quite a lock and key, but she’d take this version.

But now it was late in the afternoon, and she was back at her place after having stopped by to make sure Stef was good, but Heidi hadn’t stayed long at the hospital. She was tired from her early morning and from lack of sleep the night before—though she couldn’t complain about the cause of the latter—and all she wanted to do was change into some jammies and then call Brad.

Maybe she could convince him to bring pizza again.

“You just going to stand there all day?”

She jumped, whirled around, her elbow colliding with the car window, making her wince and rub the abused joint.

“Stop doing that,” she hissed at Brad, who was closing the distance between them with a decidedly stormy expression, one that tempered the burst of excitement she’d felt at hearing his voice, at seeing him.

“At least you weren’t near a hill you could fall down this time.”

He stopped in front of her, crossed his arms.

“What?” she asked.

He just lifted a brow.

“What?” she asked again.

“You pulled a runner?” he asked. “Really?” He shifted closer, placing his hands on either side of her, boxing her in against her car, the spicy maleness of him wafting over her, the hard, hot lines of his body pressed to hers, causing her to need a minute to process his words. Which is probably why he continued talking. “You can run, Heidi. You can run from us, from me. You can put that armor back on, but I’m not letting you go. I’m not giving you up—not when what we have is so fucking—”

She was confused and tired, and her feet hurt from being on them for most of the day.

She wanted those jammies and that pizza . . . and this man.

Which was why she placed her fingers over his mouth and asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?” Of course, then she didn’t give him a chance to answer, not when the first part of his words processed, and she’d finally comprehended what he’d said. “What the hell do you mean, I pulled a runner?” she snapped. “I came here and put on adult clothes, visited Stef in the hospital, was pulled into work, and then went back to see Stef, and now I came home to shower.” She glared. “After which I was going to put on pajamas and see if I could convince you to bring me pizza!” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “How is that pulling a runner? How is that—”

“You left,” he said, eyes hot with anger, body still pressed to hers, a growing situation against her abdomen, making her lose the threads on her outburst. “And you didn’t pick up your phone.” His fingers tangled in her hair. “And you weren’t here. Weren’t on the trail. I even called Jaime to see if Kate had heard from you because . . .”

“You’d thought I’d left,” she finished.

He nodded, brows drawn together.

Any irritation she’d been feeling from his demeanor faded. Because she knew what that felt like, and further that, she knew what he’d revealed last night might not have seemed like a giant bombshell to her, but that it had been big to him, something that had eaten at him for a while.

Then to wake up and find her not there.

“Did you not see the note I left you?”

She’d tacked it right to the center of his mirror, thinking he wouldn’t miss it, would stumble upon it first thing when he got up and . . . well, used the facilities.

His lips parted on an exhale.

“You didn’t,” she confirmed.

He shook his head, his expression drawn, his eyes downcast.

“Oh honey,” she murmured, pushing lightly at his chest, coaxing him back a step, heart squeezing. “I told you last night, I’m not going anywhere.” She took his hand, straightened her purse on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go inside.” Once they’d made it through the door, she asked, “Why didn’t you call me?”

He turned and shut the wooden panel, flipping the lock. “I told you earlier,” he said, though his tone was without rancor. “I did, but you didn’t pick up.”

Frowning, she slipped off her shoes, tucked them neatly on the rack, then hung her purse on its hook, reaching inside for her phone. “Oh.” She winced. She’d turned it off when she went into the lab . . .

And hadn’t turned it on.

Warm fingers covered hers, snagging her cell, and then Brad glanced down at the screen.

His eyes rose to hers, hazel irises darkened with frustration. “Seriously?”

She winced again. “It’s not like I try to forget . . .”

A sigh lifted his shoulders, sending them south on the exhale, his chin tipping back, gaze going up to the ceiling.

“Plus, no one besides my mom ever really calls me. They always text, and then when I get a moment to check, I catch up.” Her own shoulders were inching up toward her ears, defensiveness and guilt warring within her. It really was a bad habit—not to have it off at work—but to be unavailable because she’d forgotten to turn her cell on at other times. This wasn’t even the first