Chapter 7 #2
I stand back and examine the wall, trying to picture what Willow was seeing when she described it to Lucky, then nod. “I see what she’s going for. That’s doable. Killian said he was also leaving my toolbox for me when he dropped off the shelves.”
She nods, motioning toward the room she came out of when I arrived. “Yeah, it’s in the back.”
“Great. I’ll go grab it.”
And give myself a minute to snap my focus back to the task at hand instead of on that woman.
I make my way into the small office, where Willow has a desk, a Pack-n-Play, and more boxes stacked, and snag my toolbox and the ladder that’s leaning against the wall, then step back out into the main room.
Lucky’s on her knees, digging through one of the boxes, humming idly to herself. I don’t recognize the tune, but I’m immediately immobilized by it. The soft, light melody floats through the air, and I watch her for a moment.
It’s the calmest, most content, dare I say the happiest I’ve seen her since she got to the mountain.
The diner was too stressful for her. Too busy.
Too many ways she could mess up. And she’s right—she did suck at it.
I never would have used those words, but Lucky certainly wasn’t meant to be waiting tables.
Already, she seems more at home here, and she couldn’t have left the diner more than a few hours ago.
She glances up as if she can feel my eyes on her. “Is something wrong?”
Shit.
I shake my head. “No, not at all. Just…checking the place out.”
Checking her out.
Because my eyes can’t seem to stay off her.
Whenever we’re in the same room, they magically move in that direction, and it isn’t just the vibrancy of her hair that makes my gaze lock on the mysterious woman. It’s the energy she puts out, like a scalding hot supernova in the vast, cold darkness my life has been lately.
But if I keep staring at her, I’m going to make her more uncomfortable than she already is here under the scrutiny anyone new gets in McBride Mountain.
I bring the ladder over to the wall, set it up, and then pull out what I need to place the anchors for the shelves.
Lucky pushes up from the floor and slowly walks over, then runs her hands across one of the shelves, a small smile pulling at her lips. “These are really beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
Her brows fly up. “Did you make these?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Wow.” She examines them more closely. “That’s impressive.”
Now my cheeks heat.
“Thanks, but not really. They’re pretty easy to do; just slabs of wood.”
“No.” She runs her fingers over them lovingly, dipping them into each and every hole and divot natural to the black walnut I used. “Picking the right wood, cutting it perfectly so that it displays all of its natural beauty, making it shine like this; that takes talent.”
I don’t know why her compliment affects me so much, but my eyes start to burn and I have to look away.
The last thing I need is this woman thinking I’m so emotionally unstable that simple words like that will set me off. But I am apparently…when it comes to her.
* * *
LUCKY
I step back and survey the final shelf Liam just secured to the wall, trying to visualize how it will look when they’re covered with products, filled with Willow’s hard work, but instead of focusing on my new job, on the reason I’m here, my eyes keep drifting to him.
The way his muscled arms bunch and flex as he moves.
How good his ass looks in those jeans…
Hell…
Liam turns on the ladder and glances at me. “The level says it’s perfect, but it looks good to the eye from back there too?”
I’m not sure I’m the best person to be assisting with this, since I have absolutely no expertise whatsoever when it comes to hanging shelves. Plus, I’ve probably spent more time watching him out of the corner of my eye than I have assisting with anything, but I still search for anything amiss.
The only thing uneven is my heartbeat as I watch him work.
“I think it’s perfect.”
The shelf.
I definitely can’t be thinking about how perfect the man hanging it seems to be—ruggedly handsome, strong, loyal, intelligent, intuitive, and downright hot.
Those are dangerous thoughts. The kind that have gotten me into trouble before. The kind that brought me here in the first place.
He pulls back slightly, trying to see more of the wall. “I’m not sure about the placement, though. Should we move it higher or lower?”
I chew on my bottom lip and tilt my head, forcing myself to remain focused on the shelf—not the man hanging it. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to envision it without anything on them.”
This would be so much easier if Willow were here.
It’s her store.
Her vision.
I shouldn’t be the one making these decisions. Frankly, I shouldn’t be making any decisions since mine always seem to lead down roads no one wants to be on. But Willow was so worried about leaving because she wanted these up and entrusted me with whatever needed to happen today.
A warning Liam was the one coming to do it would have been nice, though…
My heart hasn’t stopped thudding against my ribs since the moment I walked out of the office and almost ran directly into him—and it isn’t due to the fact that I’ve been jumpy as hell the entire time I’ve been in this tiny town, nor is it the surprise of finding him here.
This seems to be my natural state when Liam McBride is around.
Off-kilter. Hyper aware. Desperately, hopeless drawn to him even when I know I shouldn’t be.
He steps down off the ladder and moves back to stand at my side, tilting his head, too, to examine the wall of shelves. “Agreed.”
“Why don’t we put some of the candles up and see how they look?”
It will give us a much better idea of the proper spacing for these shelves if we can see how they’ll actually appear when filled like they will be once the shop opens.
Some are meant as for purely display—higher up to hold extra stock and decorative pieces with them. Others will be used for actual sales, right at the proper height for customers to snag items from them.
But it’s so hard to visualize.
Liam nods. “Good idea.”
I walk over, snag two candles from one of the boxes, then move over to the ladder, climb up the couple rungs, and set them on the polished dark wood. “How do those look?”
From up here, at least, they look amazing. Liam somehow selected the perfect wood for this so Willow’s candles are showcased on something as beautiful and natural as what she produces.
In the vintage recycled jars with handmade labels, they look like they were created with care. These are the types of products that would make a fortune in some of the bigger cities I’ve lived, but they look right at home here.
I glance back at him, and a slow grin spreads across his face.
“Great, actually. Those are the largest size?”
“I think so.”
“Then we should be good.” His gaze sweeps across the wall. “If we moved the shelf any higher, I think they’d look too cramped in under the ceiling, and any lower would be too much space above them.”
I grin at him. “Agreed.”
Maybe we can do this without Willow.
Of course, she can just move things when she comes in tomorrow if she doesn’t like what we’ve done, but I would love to get these all up for her so when she opens that door in the morning, these candles are already displayed and she can really see things starting to come together.
Even though I only met her a few hours ago, her sweet, caring nature has lured me in and her genuine excitement about this new business venture is contagious.
I slide my foot down to the next rung on the ladder to get down, but it slips right off the metal and I start to tumble backward. Strong arms wrap around me, catching me before I can fall to the hard wooden floor.
Liam’s grip tightens around me, and he turns me in his arms, scanning my face. “Are you all right?”
My heart thunders against my chest even harder than it already was, but it isn’t because I almost broke my neck.
It’s the feel of Liam’s arms around me. It’s how close his lips are to mine.
It’s how damn good he smells—like fresh pine and spicy bourbon, like something forbidden that I have no right to want but do all the same.
I try to find the words, but they get stuck somewhere in my throat along with my objection to him continuing to hold onto me like this.
His green eyes stay locked on mine, searching them for something, and the heat blazing there ignites a fire deep in my core that spreads out through my body and sears right between my legs.
Pure, unadulterated want shines in his gaze.
I recognize it because I feel it, too.
He tips his head closer. Slowly. As if he isn’t sure what he’s doing or if he should be doing it, and I can’t muster up any words to stop him when I want to feel his lips on mine. I want to know what he tastes like. I want to know if he kisses with the same intensity that he looks at me.
When his lips meet mine, my eyes drift closed and the world around us evaporates in an instant.
Liam’s hold tightens, and he drags me more fully against him, his hard body and strong arms supporting me completely with my toes barely even touching the floor.
His mouth moves over mine hungrily, like he’s been starving, dying to do this forever and now that he finally has the chance, if he stops, it might actually kill him.
And God, can he kiss.
It’s all-consuming. A complete consumption of my mouth, my breath, my will.
I collapse into him, allowing him to hold me up.
To sustain me.
With this strength.
His passion.
Every flick of his tongue across my lips and along my own coils me tighter and makes that blazing heat sear through me hotter. The longer we kiss, the harder it becomes to even process what’s happening.
I’m lost in Liam McBride, and I don’t want to be found.
The sound of the front door opening and heavy boots on the wooden floor finally breaks us apart and shatters the spell, and I glance behind me to see Sheriff Briggs walking in, scanning the place.
Shit.
I quickly turn my head, hiding behind my hair, and kneel down to busy myself in one of the nearby boxes.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid a direct conversation with the man since I arrived here on the mountain, keeping to the back room or kitchen and busying myself at tables when he’s stopped into the diner over the past week.
What the hell is he doing here now?
Every muscle in my body primes to move in case I have to quickly.
“Liam, I thought I saw you come in here…” Footsteps thump in our direction, but I keep trying to look busy rather than peeking to see how close the sheriff has come to where I kneel and Liam stands beside me. “The place is looking good.”
Liam clears his throat. “Hey, Tony. Yeah, things are really starting to come together.”
“Is Willow around?”
“No, she took Niall home. It’s just me and Lucky.”
Fuck…
“Oh, hello, there.”
I peek over my shoulder, trying to keep most of my face concealed behind my hair, and offer him a smile that I hope looks genuine to a man whose literal career it is to find criminals and see through people’s shit. “Hi.”
“Well, I was popping in to say hello to Willow, and I wanted to talk to you about something, Liam, if you have a minute.”
Liam hesitates for a moment before responding. “Uh, sure.”
And I can feel his eyes on me.
He wants to discuss what just happened, but I’ve been gifted the perfect opportunity to get out of here while the sheriff is occupied with the man whose kiss has left my head spinning.
I push up and move toward the register where I left my purse, keeping my head tipped down so my hair falls to cover most of my face. “I actually have to get going. I will leave the key, if you don’t mind giving it back to Willow?”
Liam shifts in my peripheral vision, clearly distressed with being interrupted and by my abrupt attempt to leave. “Okay…”
Glancing up, I see the confusion marring his handsome face. The way his hooded eyes watch me, the lips I just kissed turned down slightly, he’s searching for a reason.
Please let me go…
I gather my things, throw my purse over my shoulder, and set the key on the counter, turning toward the door while the sheriff examines the shelves we hung. If he stays occupied, I might make it out of the shop without an issue.
And I almost make it to the door when Liam takes a step toward me, hand out like he wants to try to physically stop me. “Lucky, please, don’t run off. I’m—”
Shit.
My gaze darts to the sheriff, and Liam’s follows.
His head snaps back to me, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed on me now like he just saw the answer to the question he was about to ask.
As much as I hate the idea of him thinking I’m so desperate to get out of here because of our kiss, the thought that he figured out I don’t want the sheriff to really see me is even worse.
Because Liam isn’t stupid.
He’s far, far too observant.
Plus, he isn’t the type of man to just let things go.
I turn and slip out before he can say anything else, before he sees the fear in my eyes. The fear of what that kiss meant. The fear of the man in the uniform in there. The fear of what staying this long may bring down on him and everyone else here.
When the door closes behind me, I don’t look back.
I can’t.
Because even though there’s paper blocking the windows, I can still feel Liam watching me. I can feel his pain and his confusion. And I know I’m not going to be able to resolve it for him. I’m not going to be able to make it better.
All I’m going to do is cause him more of it if I don’t leave.