Crude Intentions

Chapter 3: Down in the Dirt

Charlie’s face was pressed directly into the hollow of Theo’s throat.

The impact had knocked the wind right out of her. Her hands had automatically flown up to brace herself, landing flat against his solid, broad chest. Beneath her palms, she could feel the steady, heavy thud of his heart. His long fingers were dug firmly into the denim of her shirt at her waist, holding her flush against him so she wouldn't slide further down into the cramped, angled passenger footwell.

For a terrifying, breathless second, neither of them moved.

The heat radiating off his skin was a physical force, amplified by the suffocating humidity of the cab. Charlie looked up, her breath hitching. Because of the sharp tilt of the truck, Theo was leaning over her, his dark eyes burning into hers with an intensity that made the storm outside completely vanish.

"Are you hurt?" Theo asked. His voice was lower now, a rough, gravelly rasp that brushed against her lips.

"Only my pride," Charlie managed to get out, her voice steadier than she felt. She tried to ignore the way his grip tightened slightly around her waist before he slowly let go. "You can release me now, Mr. Vance. The landslide has settled."

"You fell into my lap, Landman," Theo murmured, a slow, infuriatingly arrogant trace of a smirk returning to his lips. "If anything, you're invading my corporate space."

Charlie scrambled back toward the driver’s side, using the steering wheel for leverage against the awkward slant of the seat. She brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, her cheeks burning from more than just the South Texas heat. "Trust me, Vance, your space is the last place I want to be."

She looked out the rain-streaked windshield. The torrential downpour had finally started to taper off, transitioning into a thick, oppressive South Texas drizzle. But the damage was done. The right side of the truck was buried deep in the waterlogged ditch, resting precariously against a thicket of mesquite trees.

"We can't stay in here," Charlie said, assessing the tilt. "The truck isn't going to roll, but the AC is dead and the engine is flooded. We need to get out and see exactly how bad we're stuck."

"Define 'we,'" Theo said, eyeing the muddy torrent rushing through the ditch outside his door.

"We, as in the two people currently occupying this cabin," Charlie said smoothly. She reached over, popped the latch on her door, and kicked it open. Because her side was angled upward, she easily hopped out onto the slick but manageable edge of the dirt road, her worn leather work boots finding immediate traction.

She walked around the front of the truck, the humid air hitting her like a wet blanket, and stopped right outside Theo’s door. She tapped on the glass with her pen.

Theo cracked the door open, looking down at the disaster below him. The mud—thick, black, clay-heavy Goliad gumbo—was swirling right up to the truck's running board.

"Well?" Theo demanded, crossing his arms. "What's the play, Charlie? Do you have a winch in the back of this relic?"

"Nope. Just a shovel and some jumper cables, neither of which are going to help us right now," Charlie said, leaning against the hood of the truck with a satisfied grin. "You're going to have to step out, Mr. Vance."

Theo looked down at his three-thousand-dollar Italian leather oxfords. Then he looked at Charlie's smug face. "You are enjoying this entirely too much."

"I told you to stay in the Escalade," she reminded him cheerfully. "Come on, Tycoon. Live a little. It's just dirt."

With a dark muttered curse that would have shocked his board of directors, Theo swung his long legs out of the cab. The second his expensive shoes hit the mud, he sank ankle-deep with a sickening, wet squish.

Charlie couldn't help it—a loud, genuine laugh escaped her.

Theo stood there in his ruined white dress shirt and mud-caked trousers, looking absolutely lethal. He took a single, heavy step out of the ditch, the mud tearing one of his shoes completely off his foot. He lost his balance, his arms flailing for a split second before his hand shot out, grabbing Charlie by the forearm to steady himself.

The laughter died in her throat as he pulled himself up onto the packed center of the road, standing entirely too close to her again. He was breathing heavily, a streak of black mud smeared across his forearm, his dark eyes locked onto hers.

"Laugh again, Charlie," he threatened softly, his fingers tightening around her arm, "and I'm dragging you down into the ditch with me."

Charlie’s heart did a strange, violent flip. She opened her mouth to deliver a sharp, biting retort, but the words were cut short by the sudden, low rumble of a heavy engine in the distance.

Through the gray, drizzling fog of the backroad, a pair of blinding high beams cut through the gloom. A massive, lifted black dually truck roared over the crest of the hill, throwing up a wake of muddy water as it barreled directly toward them.

Charlie frowned, her landman instincts immediately kicking into high gear. This wasn't a local farmer coming to help. She recognized that truck. It belonged to Garrett Cole—a ruthless field landman for Apex Energy, Vance Energy's fiercest rival in the basin.

The dually screeched to a halt just feet away from them, effectively blocking the entire road. The driver's side door slammed open, and Garrett stepped out, a cold, predatory smile spreading across his face as his eyes darted from Charlie to the mud-soaked billionaire standing beside her.

"Well, well, well," Garrett called out over the idling engine, his voice dripping with malice. "Look what the storm washed up. Charlie Schindler, out in the weeds with the big boss himself. I guess Vance Energy really is getting desperate if the CEO has to beg for titles in the dirt."

Theo’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The annoyance from the mud vanished, replaced by a freezing, terrifying corporate armor. He stepped directly in front of Charlie, completely shielding her body with his broad shoulders as his gaze locked onto the rival landman.

"You're on the wrong leasehold, Cole," Theo said, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet, lethal register that made the hair on the back of Charlie's neck stand up. "Turn your truck around before I buy your company just to fire you."