Chapter 28
Mac
If my life were a movie, I'd probably be snuggled up with Riley in bed, refusing to face the world.
That's what's supposed to happen when you tell someone they're yours. Claiming a woman in a Hollywood movie would have them swooning and jumping for joy.
I never considered that there would be a different outcome when those words slipped from my mouth.
But instead of marathon sex and naps in between, I haven't seen the woman in days.
Hell, I've heard her around the house, but I haven't laid eyes on her since she asked me to leave her room that night.
And, if I'm being honest, I'm avoiding her also in fear that the next time we see each other, she's going to ask me to leave.
I can't see any other way around it, and I hate that I may have ruined something special by opening my stupid mouth.
I can't take those words back, and if I dig deep enough, I know that I don't want to. I spoke my mind and explained how I felt. If she doesn't feel the same way, there's nothing I can do about that. It's not that I want to take the words back, but maybe I could've delivered them in less of a caveman way, especially to a woman who has been fighting for so long to be successful and independent.
"It was a lot of fun."
I shake my head, trying to shove those thoughts away so I can concentrate on the conversation I'm having.
"What?" I say into my phone.
"It was fun, not really like a bachelor party," Chase says. "There weren't strippers or anything. Madison would've murdered me if there were, but he closed down the bar to the public, and we just drank and shot pool and stuff."
He called this morning wanting to know why I wasn't at the bar this weekend for Walker's party.
"You should've come."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the headache that's threatening behind my eyes. This is what I get for slinking out of Riley's house this morning without having a cup of coffee. Mondays are never easy, but today already seems impossible with caffeine.
"I was working on the house," I mutter.
"How's that going?"
"I've managed to get a lot done."
An easy task, considering I've been hiding from Riley.
"I have the electricity back on downstairs, at least."
"I hate you had to deal with a house fire, man," Chase says.
"It wasn't too bad," I say, despite the attitude I had when it first happened.
I was so quick to blame Riley, when, in fact, I was the one who couldn't get my shit under control with her swaying in my kitchen as she cooked.
I'd been the one to tell her that we were just having a little fun, and yet I'm the one who can't keep my hands off of her. I'm the one lying in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling, wishing I had the warmth of her skin against me.
And that's how I know I'm in trouble.
Sex with her is incredible, no doubt the most satisfying experiences I've ever had, yet I'd be content just to have her in my arms.
My pulse pounds behind my eyes at the thought of having ruined the chance to feel her against me again.
I watch out the front door as the twins, Ethan, and the other guys on my crew grab what they need for the day from the shop. I could probably line out what they need to do today and go back to bed, but I know it would only be a wasted effort because, as tired as I am, sleep hasn't been coming very easily. It's hard to relax when my skin is itching with need.
I feel like a fucking drug addict, and there's a part of me that hates the vulnerability of it.
I grumble under my breath, wishing things were different. Part of me wishes that I never propositioned her in the first place because it's a lot harder knowing now what I'm missing out on.
"You seem a little on edge," Chase says, and I know he's digging.
After Mrs. Easter posted in the community group, I knew the entire town had to be gossiping about my truck being parked at Riley's house. I swear, when I've been there, I've noticed an increase in traffic on her damn street with nosey-ass people driving by to take a look. I know the guys aren't above speculating what's going on between the two of us over a couple of beers and a game of pool.
"I have a delivery that was supposed to be here Friday, and it still hasn't shown up," I mutter as I step away from the door and turn back to face the nearly completely gutted kitchen. "I'm going to have to spread my guys out over three smaller jobs because the big one we're scheduled to work today can't be done without the lumber.
"You sure that's it?"
I pull the phone away from my face and look down at the contact information because why is this man grilling me right now?
"It's too early for this shit," I grumble.
His laughter grates on my nerves, but I know the guy means well. People who are blissed out with their own happiness always seem to want others around them to have the same. Walker, as the town's bar owner, is always offering advice while serving drinks, but I don't need a therapist right now.
The sound of a car door closing draws my attention back out front.
"I'll talk to you later, Chase. I think my delivery just arrived."
"Chat soon," he says before ending the call.
Thinking my day is looking up with the arrival of my materials, I head out the front door, only there isn't a flatbed truck with lumber on it out by my truck. There's a gorgeous blonde in a sweater that accentuates every single delicious curve of her body.
My heart races as I walk out onto my front porch, knowing as she opens the back driver's side door that she could easily pull out a trash bag with my belongings from her house.
Instead of my things, she straightens from the back of the car with a casserole dish in her hands.
My heart races, both because she doesn't seem keen on kicking me to the curb right now and because I know the woman has the most incredible ability when it comes to food. I've never been happier to see a covered glass dish in my entire life.
"Need help with anything?" Ronnie asks as he approaches her with a wide grin.
"Can you grab that bag, please?" she says, angling her head toward her car.
Ronnie dips his head in agreement, his smile wide as he reaches into the vehicle .
I'd commend him for helping her, but it's the look in his eyes when he straightens back up and watches her walk in my direction with the same tilt to his head that I always have when I watch her walk away.
"Do you want to die on a Monday?" I growl at the man.
"It's just breakfast," Riley says as she pauses at the bottom of the porch stairs. "I didn't think—"
"Not you, baby. Ronnie, don't you have work to do?"
The man snaps his eyes from her ass to look at me, his cheeks pinking at being caught.
I get the appeal, believe me, I do, but this man is a walking hard-on. I think he'd bed anything that walks.
"Sure, boss," he says, placing the bag near her feet on the steps. "Apologies, ma'am."
"Apologies for what? No, don't go. I have breakfast for everyone."
"All of us?" Ronnie asks, his voice how I would expect a child to sound on Christmas morning when looking at the tree surrounded by gifts they didn't expect.
"Go round 'em up," Riley says. "I can serve at the picnic tables."
Ronnie bounces off, and I swear the guy is fucking skipping to let the rest of the crew know they have breakfast waiting for them.
"I guess I should've asked," Riley says when she looks back in my direction.
"It's fine," I say, wishing my crew was already gone so I could be alone with her. "Let me help you."
I descend the stairs and grab the handles of the bag Ronnie brought up before turning toward the picnic tables.
The two tables under the copse of trees to the left of the front porch are mostly used when we're working out of the shop, which often happens because we custom build a lot of the things we put in people's homes like cabinets, built-in features, and furniture.
Riley places the food on the table before reaching for the bag in my hands, and I swear I feel an electrical pulse arc from her fingertips to my hand when we brush slightly. I'm losing my mind over this woman, and she seems quite content to just glance up at me and smile as she pulls plates, napkins, and plastic cutlery from the bag.
I open my mouth to ask her if we could talk, but the guys from my crew practically swarm us, lining up behind me like they haven’t eaten in a month .
I must sigh my frustration out loud because her eyes lift from the stack of paper plates in her hands to my face. She gives me a gentle smile, and it somehow calms me a little, telling me I'll get my chance.
She doesn't seem annoyed or nervous, as I would assume she would if she were here to tell me to get my shit out of her house. I know the possibility of her asking me to leave has nothing to do with me being displaced. Although I won't have a functioning kitchen, my house is perfectly fine now to move back into, but the idea of more distance between us makes me want to scream and kick like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.
"I can do that," Ethan offers when Riley pulls out a spatula to start serving. The man looks up at me before continuing, "If you two want to talk or something."
The man is going to get the biggest raise or, at a minimum, will be named employee of the damn year.
Riley swallows, a hint of that nervousness I didn't see before clouding her eyes a little before giving him a weak smile and handing over the spatula.
When she steps away from the group of men, I could easily guide her into the house, but flat, soft surfaces being at our fingertips probably isn't the best idea. As much as I'd like to strip her down and spend the day worshipping her body, I really do have a list of jobs to work through today.
"Save some for us or else," she warns them all before stepping up in front of me.
Instead of directing us toward the house, I guide her around the trees so we're out of sight of the crew. I can still hear them making obscene noises as each one tastes her food. I'd think they were exaggerating their pleasure just to make her uncomfortable, but I've tasted that particular casserole before, and my tongue is tingling with the mere thought of shoveling some of it into my mouth.
She turns to face me, and suddenly I'm nervous. I've said things in the past that weren't received the way I wanted them to be, and that makes me cautious about doing it again because of the threat of driving her away completely.
Worry fades away when, before I can open my mouth to apologize for whatever it is that has put days of distance between us, Riley steps in closer. In the next breath, her arms are around my waist as she lifts up onto the tips of her toes to press her lips to mine.
My brain fritzes for a second, making her pull back slightly with a look of pain in her eyes as if she made a move and I'm rejecting her .
"Get back here," I grumble and lock my arms around her waist.
This kiss feels like the first one, causing an arc of electricity down my spine, letting it simmer in the deepest parts of me before radiating out to every cell in my body.
I feel like a live wire, as if I could provide the amount of electricity needed to power the entire town.
I groan into her mouth, smiling when I feel her lips turn up into a smile against mine.
With an arm wrapped around her middle, I guide her a few feet backward, pressing her body against a massive oak tree and rolling my hips to let her know just how easily she affects me.
"Riley," I whisper, suddenly wishing we'd gone inside instead of staying out here. "I—"
"That right there looks almost better than the casserole."
I snap my eyes in the direction of the voice, ready to fire the man willing to interrupt this moment.
Riley buries her head into my chest, and I hate that I'm glaring at Ronnie instead of seeing the pink I know is in her cheeks.
"What?" I snap at the man.
"Sorry to interrupt," he says without an ounce of remorse in his eyes. "Ms. Riley, do you have maple syrup? My momma always had some when she made this type of breakfast."
"Are you kidding me?"
I'm seething, and Ronnie doesn't even spare me a glance as he waits for Riley's reply.
"There's some in the tote bag on the table," she says, her fingers curling into my shirt when I move to lunge at the guy.
Ronnie dips his head in thanks before disappearing around the edge of the tree.
"I'll kill him," I grumble as I look back down at her, trying my best not to get too lost in the way her lips are cherry red and slightly swollen from our kiss.
"Leave him be," she says, the warmth of her fingertips working their way up my chest before settling at the nape of my neck.
I could get lost in this woman's gaze for a lifetime, and there's something a little calming about that, but at the same time, it makes me question my sanity.
"I've missed you," I whisper, thoughts of Ronnie's interrupting quickly fading away.
"I've been right down the hallway. Let's go have some breakfast. I doubt you've had a decent meal in days."