Rena
The problem with admitting you're attracted to someone is that it's like flipping a switch you can't turn back off.
I've spent three days trying to convince myself that honesty would defuse the tension between Caleb and me.
I was catastrophically wrong. Every interaction feels charged, every accidental brush of hands feels intentional, and I've caught myself staring at his mouth so many times I'm surprised he hasn't called me on it.
By Thursday afternoon, I'm losing my mind, hiding out at City Hall updating permit paperwork with Lila Moreno mostly to get a change of scenery.
Lila's been watching me struggle with the same form for twenty minutes before she speaks up. "You want to tell me what's going on, or should I just keep pretending you haven't read the same paragraph six times?"
"It's complicated," I admit."Hypothetically," I try, "if someone were attracted to a colleague they have to work with daily, what would you advise?"
Lila's smile is knowing. "Hypothetically, I'd say that someone needs to be more honest about whether this colleague is also the site supervisor who looks at her like she's the most interesting thing on that entire construction site."
"That obvious?"
"Only to anyone with eyes. Caleb Wyatt's been paying attention to you since day one." When I groan into my hands, she softens. "Why is this a disaster? Because you're attracted to a good man who respects you professionally and can't stop looking at you?"
"Because the last time I let my personal life intersect with my professional one, it ended badly enough that I'm still rebuilding my reputation."
"Fair enough. But here's what I've learned in small towns like this.
Sometimes the complicated things are the only ones worth doing.
" She grins. "One more thing. Forge Creek men don't do casual.
If he's interested, it's because he sees something real.
They're all in or they're out. No middle ground. "
I take in her words which land in my chest, heavy and significant. By the time I leave, the sun's dipping toward the horizon. I'm fishing for my keys when another engine pulls in behind me. I know it's him before I turn around.
"You following me, Wyatt?"
"Might be," he says, stopping a careful distance away. "Or I just finished a meeting with the city engineer and noticed your truck still here."
"You want to get out of here?" The question comes out before I've thought it through. "I'm going to Black River Overlook to decompress. You're welcome to join me if you want to keep dancing around whatever this is." I wave my hand between the two of us.
Something complicated works through his expression. "Yeah. I'd like that."
Black River Overlook isn’t as beautiful as I thought it was going to be. There’s one bench and a view that’s mediocre. But I know why he likes it here, it’s quiet. Forge Creek is not quiet, so this is a great place to just sit and think.
"Lila cornered me today," I say. "Told me Forge Creek men don't do casual."
"She's not wrong," he says, turning to look at me properly. "You're not subtle, and we don't do casual."
"That's a lot of pressure for something that hasn't even started yet."
"Is it going to start?"
I draw one leg onto the bench, angling toward him. "I keep coming back to the fact that I can't stop thinking about what would've happened in that trailer if we hadn't been interrupted."
He smiles, knowing he’s affected me. "You want to know what would've happened?"
"I think," I say carefully, "that you would've kissed me."
"Yeah, I would've."
"And I think I would've let you."
He reaches out slowly, giving me every chance to pull back, and brushes his thumb along my jaw. "I'm terrified too," he says quietly. "But I'm more terrified of spending the next however long wondering what this could've been."
When he leans in, it's slow enough that I could stop him.
I don't.
His mouth meets mine and it’s soft and questioning, his lips are restrained in a way that's somehow hotter than if he'd just taken my lips.
I fist my hand in his shirt and pull him closer, deepening it, and he groans softly against my mouth.
When we finally break apart, we are both breathing hard, and he rests his forehead against mine.
"So that happened," I say, looking into his eyes.
"Yeah. It did."
"I don't do this," I tell him. "I don't just kiss people I work with."
"I know. Neither do I."
"Your place?" The suggestion comes out before I can think better of it. I don’t know what I’m doing, but for some reason it feels right.
His eyes search mine. "You sure?"
"No," I say honestly. "But I'm done pretending I don't want to find out what happens next."