Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

Laced With Desire

Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill

& Denise Rossetti

No Strings Attached

JACI BURTON

One

Budgets and bids and the upcoming contract next year all tornadoed around Ella Hicks’s head. She tapped her pencil and tuned out the Tulsa Building Industry president’s speech.

Business as usual at the monthly meeting, as it had been for the past five years since her husband, James, had died suddenly, leaving her the CEO and chief of everything

involving Hicks Construction.

Thank God for work, for the unending seven-day-a-week schedule that had saved her sanity after those shocking, bleak days following James’s death, when she couldn’t wrap her mind around how a healthy, robust thirty-year-old man could simply fall to the ground and die. Just like that. One second he’d been alive and laughing with her, and then, just like that, he was gone.

She’d spent the last five years reliving that day, remembering the shock, the crushing pain, the thought that her life, too, was over.

But she hadn’t died with James. Because they still had a business to run, and it had fallen on her to do it. She couldn’t let James down, refused to fall apart. He’d have hated that, would have wanted her to pick up and get the job done. So she had. For five years she’d worked sunup to sundown on Hicks Construction. She’d fought with the foreman and the business manager, had gone head-to-head with the workers and other owners, and had stood her ground, letting her grief out only when she came home at the end of the day, dusty, dirty and too tired to even think. Then she’d strip and turn the shower on, letting the steamy water pour over her. Only then would she allow herself to cry.

She tapped her pencil on the paper, not even able to remember how many nights she’d sobbed uncontrollably for hours, until the water had gone cold, until she’d dried off and climbed into bed, falling into a—thankfully—dreamless slumber. And so it had gone, every day like that.

For too damn long. She’d eventually stopped crying at night, but she still worked herself hard, just like she worked everyone at the company. There was nothing she asked them to do that she wasn’t willing to do herself. Staying busy had been her lifeline, and she was grateful to have it, to have this tiny piece of James to tuck away in her heart. His name, his company.

No. Her company now. And she’d succeeded. She’d made it work. James would be proud of her. But James was gone and it was time she found a life again.

Though it wasn’t a whole new life she was searching for. Not right now anyway. There was only one thing she needed, and she intended to get it—soon.

“The bids for three upcoming projects should be posted at the beginning of next month.”

Ella pulled her focus to the business at hand, jotting down a few notes.

“You aren’t paying attention.”

She shifted her gaze to the man who’d whispered to her. Clayton

Mansfield—Clay—owner of Mansfield Builders, one of her biggest competitors. Same age as her late husband, Clay and James had been good friends as well as rivals. They’d gone hunting and fishing together, and Clay had been nearly as devastated as she had been over James’s death.

He’d also been a very good friend to her over the past five years, had helped her with the business when she’d needed it, despite it not being in his best interest to do so. But he’d been James’s friend, and she knew that was why he’d been there for her. She was grateful to have a strong shoulder to lean on, someone who knew the business end of things inside and out, because while she and James had worked side by side to build Hicks

Construction, she’d focused more on the office side of things. Getting out there and getting dirty had been James’s job. After his death, it had become hers. That was where Clay had helped her.

He nudged her with his elbow. “Late night?”

She smothered a snort. “Hardly. Just trying to stay awake through the droning.”

Clay nodded, stretching out his jean-clad legs under the table. “Next time we vote on a president for our council, we need to make sure they can talk, and talk fast.”

“Agreed.”

He shifted again, folded his arms over his middle. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, and she glimpsed dark hair over tanned skin. And muscle. A lot of muscle.

Stop. Do not look. She never looked. Okay, she did. What breathing woman wouldn’t? At six-five or so, Clay was imposing. And he was model gorgeous, with sea blue eyes, coal black hair and a body that spoke of a man who really worked for a living. And his mouth—she’d always been drawn to his mouth. Full bottom lip that she’d thought of often lately . . . though she shouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not with Clay.

Which was why this new . . . project . . . was so imperative. She’d been thinking of Clay .

. . of that . . . a lot.

“That should wrap things up, unless there’s any new business?”

Ella held her breath, praying no one would speak up. They’d been in this meeting for two hours and her ass was numb. She had things to do, plans to make.

Fortunately, they adjourned. Ella pushed back her chair and resisted the urge to rub her butt.

“Finally.”

Ella nodded. “Thanks for letting us use your conference room.”

He shrugged. “No big deal. Easier on me. Now I can get back to work.” He winked, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. Ugh. Things between her and Clay had always been easy. She’d never felt anything for him. Ever. Of course there’d always been James, and then there’d been mind-numbing grief. She hadn’t felt anything . . . for anyone.

But now she was starting to feel again, the grief for her husband diminished to one of aching loss. She’d reconciled it, come to grips with the realization that James had died, not