Chapter 12
Mac
I narrow my eyes at Walker Conroy when he slides a beer across the bar top in my direction.
"I know what you did," I say before lifting it to my lips to take a drink.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, but his eyes lift, his attention drifting across the room to Claire.
She's here with several of the women from town, and I don't have to look over my shoulder to know that Riley fucking Wilson is one of them. I've heard her throaty chuckle more than once, and every time it drifts to my ears, my cock stirs in my jeans.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," I snap. "Asbestos? Really?"
At least the man has the wherewithal to look a little embarrassed.
"Was Jason in on it?" I ask, knowing he's the guy who now owns the duplexes across town where Claire was staying until she was told to find a different place to live because there was asbestos in the walls. Of course, the woman, being a mother, got out of there as fast as possible, leaving Walker's house the most reasonable place to land.
"It's no big deal," he mutters.
"It is a big deal. You're trashing my father's name. He built those duplexes. In the fucking nineties, Walker. They hadn't been using asbestos for decades by then."
"She doesn't think any less of your father," he says. I know she doesn't, but it irritates the shit out of me that he's lying and manipulating someone at my father's expense. I have enough shit going on right now. I don't need people whispering about my father's business, which is now my business.
“I have a reputation to keep,” I snap, some of my anger drifting away when I hear Riley laugh once again.
“Is there something else bothering you?” he asks, making my jaw clamp closed .
"No, I'm fine."
I can tell by the way he dips his head that he doesn't believe me, and I'm grateful that it's busy enough in here that he can't really grill me about my attitude.
"Let me know if you need anything else," he says before walking off to help another customer.
A few minutes go by, and everyone in the bar is laughing and having a good time. It's New Year's Eve, and we should all be celebrating the successes we've had this year. But it's a little difficult to think of all the good that has happened when I'm facing such a monumental repair at my house and the extra business I have to turn down in order to make time to get it done.
I smell the scent that clings to her skin before I see her.
"Can we get another round?" Riley asks, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
"Watch out," I grumble, unable to stop the words from rolling off my lips. "She might try to burn your house down too."
Despite having said what I did, I can't seem to pull my eyes from my beer to look over at her.
"Are you kidding me?" she snaps.
"The fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of damage to my house and the hotel room I've been staying in for five days would prove that I'm not," I answer.
"You’re making it sound like the fire was my fault alone. Why don't you explain exactly how your kitchen caught on fire," she challenges.
I shake my head, my lip curled up in a sneer as I lift the beer bottle to my mouth and look in her direction.
"I'm a gentleman, and it's not proper to complain about bad sex."
"Bad—Bad!" Riley yells, smacking her hand down on the bar top as she continues to glare at me.
I see it in the redness in her cheeks the moment she realizes that she has drawn the attention of almost every person in the bar.
Instead of staying to argue further, she spins around and rushes for the door.
I can't help but watch as she hurries from the bar, guilt swimming in my gut as the heavy door closes behind her.
Walker gives me a disappointed look before walking away. With the guilt I feel, it doesn't take me long before I'm moving, pulling money from my wallet, and slapping it on the bar. The countdown into the new year has already begun by the time I make it outside, and it seems that I'm going to end one year and start another irritated at fucking Riley Wilson.
By the time I make it out to the parking lot, her car is already gone because I knew exactly where it was parked when I arrived. Hell, I looked for it when I pulled up with a smile on my face before remembering the chaos she has caused in my life over the last couple of weeks.
I know I should probably leave well enough alone, but her being mad at me doesn't sit right with me. It hasn't for the last couple of days. I've tried to convince myself that it was the recent repairs needed for my house that have been souring my stomach, but the relief that pissed me off so much at the sight of her this evening says otherwise.
I walk to my truck, questioning my intentions with every step that carries me closer. My mind is in a battle of what to do, but instead of turning toward my house, I turn in the opposite direction and drive toward hers.
A better man would've never said what I said out loud. A better man wouldn't bring up his bedroom business in front of others, but she has this way of crawling all over every damn nerve of mine.
I ignore the erection that grows in my jeans the closer I get to her house. That fucker has gotten me into enough damn trouble where she's concerned, and I'm not going to let him keep making decisions for me.
I try and convince myself that I have it under control when I pull up in front of her house, but the way my jeans chafe my cock, I know better.
The walk to her front porch is slow and when I lift my hand and knock, my attitude no better than when I left the bar because this is all her fucking fault. I lose my damn mind when she's around. That may be a me problem, but I still feel the need to point fingers at her.
She opens the door, sneering at me, but the redness around her eyes tells me that she's been crying. It hits me square in the chest to have been the one to make her react this way.
"Riley," I whisper. "I'm sorry."
Her back straightens, that top lip of hers curling into a snarl.
"For what?" she snaps. "I stubbed my toe. It has nothing to do with you."
I look down at the boots on her feet, knowing that she's lying, but even my raised eyebrow doesn't make her change her story. If anything, she straightens taller, doubling down as if to challenge me to argue with her.
"You're one giant egotistical asshole, Mac Hammer. Not everything is about you." She shifts her weight, making me wonder if she is about to slam the door in my face. Honestly, after what I said to her at the bar, I know I deserve much more than that. "I'm sorry about your house. I had no idea the damage was so extensive. I didn't know you couldn't live there before it was fixed."
"It's not safe to be inside without a mask until the soot and smoke damage has been cleared," I offer. "I'm waiting for a call from a company out of Austin that specializes in that kind of stuff. The holidays are delaying everything."
"That's understandable," she says, and I know we're both considering just how weird this conversation is right now.
A minute ago, she was yelling at me and calling me an asshole, and now we're having a civil conversation about home repairs.
"I never should've blamed you for the damage at my house," I say. "I'm well aware whose fault it is. I should've never—"
"What?" she growls, that angry part of her never too far away. "Never should've had sex with me in the first place? It's bad enough that you regret touching me, but don't come to my house just to say it all over again."
There's a hint of vulnerability in her tone, and I don't miss it. I can't really take a minute to evaluate why it makes me feel the need to wrap my arms around her and protect her from the world when I'm the one causing her pain and irritation.
"I never should've said the sex was bad," I say, making her snap her mouth shut before she spits whatever insult she was planning next in my direction. All my attention is drawn to her lips, and I fight a smile, wondering what her lips would feel like wrapped around my cock. She shifts on her feet, and I know she's affected by me as well. It takes every ounce of power I have not to pounce on her because I know just how fast this woman's body gets ready to take a thick cock. Her lips form a flat line, making me lift my gaze to hers.
Her eyes narrow as she drills her gaze into mine.
"You've got to be kidding me," she growls.
"What?" I ask, more than a little confused.
"Insult me in front of everyone at the bar and then get so cocky that you think you have a chance to hook up with me again?"
"What?"
"Do you really think my self-esteem is so low that I'd ever—"
"Self-esteem?" I ask, completely confused now. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You're looking at me like you want to fuck me, but that only seems to cross your mind when you have no one around to witness you salivating over the thick girl. I know your type, Mac Hammer, and I want no part of it."
I shake my head, wondering what the fuck happened for things to shift in this direction.
I take a step forward, but she takes a step back, a clear sign that she's got no interest in me.
"Riley, I never said—"
"You don't have to say a thing. Your intent is clear in your actions."
"What is happening right now?" I ask.
"Rejection," she says easily. "I know you aren't familiar with it, but this is what it looks like."
I let my eyes scan her body one more time before lifting them to hers, only it seems to make her angrier.
"You're mad that I said what I said at the bar, and I get it, but now you're mad that I apologized, too?"
"I'm mad for letting myself think that you might have been attracted to me."
"Attraction is not the issue," I say, reaching down and gripping my cock.
"We had a deal," she says, some of the anger in her tone dissipating. "One night. No strings."
"I never expected the sex to be so good," I confess, feeling a little vulnerable for saying it out loud.
I seem to be hell-bent on showing all my cards.
"Why not? Because of my size?"
I take a step back, feeling as if she slapped me right across the face, but now it's starting to make sense. She didn't want me to pick her up last week at my house. She mentioned being the thick girl, the very fucking thing that turns me on the most about her.
"You're the perfect size, Riley. Exactly my fucking type."
"In high school—"
"All boys are dumb in high school. Don't hold who I dated against me."
She's still frowning.
"I’m so fucking sorry if you thought for a second that I'm not attracted to you or that I'm in some way trying to sneak around to fuck you because I'm embarrassed about you. That's not the case at all. I don't want people in town whispering about me behind my back."
She licks at her lips, and even with the seriousness of this conversation, my body still feels a certain way about that fucking tongue of hers. As I thought before, the woman has put some kind of curse on me. As I stand right in front of her, the scent of her skin hitting my nose on occasion when it catches on the wind, I can admit that I'm not all that upset about it.
"Thank you for apologizing," she says, her eyes dropping down the length of my body, and I swear I see desire in her eyes. "Have a good night."
With those parting words, she steps back into her house and closes the fucking door right in my face.
Good for her for not giving in.
Despite my aching cock, there's a wide smile on my face.