Chapter 16
Seth woke slowly, awareness coming in layers instead of all at once.
First, the weight—light but unmistakable, draped against his side.
Then the warmth seeping through the sheet and into his skin.
A faint whisper of breath followed, soft against his shoulder, and that was what pulled him the rest of the way awake.
He didn’t move right away, only lying there, eyes still closed, letting it sink in. Someone was in his bed. In his space. Close enough that every subtle movement mattered.
Shylo.
His eyes opened, adjusting to the low morning light slipping through the curtains. The room held that early-morning stillness, broken by the faint hum of the fridge in the other room and the occasional creak of the building settling.
She was nestled against him, one arm tucked between them, her hair spread across the pillow, tickling his shoulder. Her scent wrapped around him—clean from their late-night shower, soft and faintly sweet, something he was already starting to recognize.
He’d never woken up with a woman still in his bed before. Maybe in a woman’s bed—but never in his own. He always made sure the night ended long before sunrise, before it carried over into the morning like it meant something.
Keep it light with no complications.
That had always been his mantra.
And yet... he didn’t want her to go.
His gaze drifted over her sleeping face, and memories of the night before surfaced without invitation.
Twice.
Twice he'd lost himself in her.
He'd been with enough women over the years to know good sex when he had it. There'd been chemistry. Attraction. A few unforgettable nights.
Nothing had prepared him for Shylo.
It wasn't just the intensity of it—though every kiss, every touch, and every moment they'd spent tangled together had left him wondering how he'd ever settle for less again. It was the way she'd looked at him, trusted him, and responded to him.
He'd brought her apart in his arms more than once, and each time, it had filled him with a fierce satisfaction he'd never experienced before. Her pleasure hadn't simply turned him on. It had become every bit as important as his own.
That was new.
So was the feeling that had settled over him afterward as she'd curled against him and fallen asleep in his arms.
For years, sex had been exactly what he'd claimed to want—fun, uncomplicated, and over before anyone started expecting more.
Last night hadn't felt casual for a single second. It had felt like two people discovering something they'd both been missing.
His hand rested at her side, his thumb tracing the curve of her waist beneath the sheet. The contact felt... right. Too right. Something inside him loosened, catching him off guard more than anything else.
He didn’t pull away or rush to move. He stayed there, letting himself take in the quiet connection between them. It was new. And he didn’t hate it.
She shifted, a slight movement that broke the moment. Her hand slid lightly across his chest before she stilled, as though she’d just realized exactly where she was.
He felt the change immediately. The tension that crept into her body. The way her breathing hitched, then picked up enough to notice.
His gaze shifted to her face as she pushed up onto her elbow. She took in the room with quick, assessing glances, as if she needed to get her bearings before looking at him.
Unease twisted in his gut.
“Morning.” His voice came rough, still thick with sleep, but steady.
She glanced at him, and for a moment, her gaze softened. Then it slipped away, replaced by something more guarded.
“Hey.” She sat up, pulling the sheet with her. “I... uh... I should get going.”
He pushed himself up on one elbow, frowning. “There’s no rush. You just woke up.”
“I know, I—” She dragged a hand through her hair, already scooting toward the edge of the bed. “I’ve... um... got stuff to do before work. And you probably need to get moving too.”
The words came out too fast, as though she’d already decided to leave before she’d even looked at him.
He watched her, trying to track the shift from a minute ago to now. Nothing about last night had felt rushed or uncertain. Nothing about this did either—except for the way she was already putting distance between them.
“You’ve got time.”
She shook her head, reaching for her clothes. “I’ll be fine. Really.”
That wasn’t the point.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing for his jeans. “At least let me walk you out.”
“No.” The word came out sharp, and she tempered it immediately. “You don’t have to. I know the way.”
His hands stilled on the denim. That didn’t sit right.
“You sure about that?” His voice stayed even, but there was an edge under it now.
She nodded, still not quite meeting his eyes as she dressed in a hurry. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”
Around.
Like this was nothing. Like it had been just another night to her.
And wasn’t that a kick? Usually, that was his move. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, it didn’t feel so good.
She was gone before he could say anything else.
The apartment felt different immediately—too empty, as if someone had yanked something from it without warning.
Seth sat there for a second, staring at the spot she'd vacated moments earlier.
The pillow retained the shape of her head, and the sheet was still warm from her body.
What the hell was that?
He scrubbed a hand over his face, palm rasping over his morning stubble, then stood and dragged his clothes on with little thought. Irritation took hold, not sharp enough to burn, but stubborn enough to persist.
It didn’t make sense. The way she’d shut him down so fast, then left without letting him walk her out.
None of it lined up with how things were the night before.
By the time he stepped in through the back door, the place was already alive.
The smell of coffee hit first, strong and bitter, followed by bacon and eggs—Mya already in full swing.
From the dining room, voices carried, chairs scraped, metal utensils clinked against ceramic plates, and a burst of laughter cut through it all.
Normal.
Everything normal.
Except him.
Paige sat at the kitchen table with Ashley in her high chair, trying to coax a bite while the toddler twisted this way and that, more interested in everything happening beyond the doorway than the spoon in front of her.
Mya bustled between the stove and the dining room, carrying plates, bowls, and baskets filled with food in steady rotation.
“Morning,” Seth said, the word coming out a little rougher than usual.
Paige glanced up with a quick smile. “Good morning.”
Mya gave him a nod as she passed. “Morning, Seth. Grab a plate before it’s all gone. You’d think those boys never had a home-cooked meal this morning.”
Ashley banged her hand on the tray, babbling at him as if she had something important to say. Seth huffed out something that might’ve passed for a chuckle, tapping the tray lightly. “Hey, sweetie.”
He entered the dining room and grabbed a mug from the sideboard, filling it from the large urn. The heat bit into his palm as he carried it to the table.
Shane and Tucker were already there, along with most of the guys who lived on-site. The rest of the employees—those who lived in town—weren’t due in for another hour.
“Morning,” Shane said, glancing up.
Seth gave a curt nod as he sat, then lifted the mug and took a long drink. The coffee burned going down, but it didn’t cut through the irritation still sitting in his chest.
“Sleep okay?” Jamie’s tone held a hint of amusement.
Seth didn’t look up. “Yeah.”
That should’ve been the end of it.
“You sure about that?” Derek Bishop cut in from down the table, grinning. “Her truck was out front earlier. Thought you didn’t do overnights.”
Seth’s grip tightened around the mug. “Eat your damn breakfast.” The words came out sharper than he intended.
Derek lifted his hands, still smiling. “Hey, just making an observation.”
“You’re bein’ an ass.” The edge in his voice cut clean enough to quiet the table for a beat.
“Language!” Paige called from the kitchen.
Shane’s gaze shifted to him, assessing, but Seth ignored it, staring into his coffee like it held something worth focusing on.
He set the mug down harder than necessary and reached for a platter of food, dragging a couple strips of bacon and some eggs onto his plate, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
It wasn’t Derek or the comment.
It was her.
The way she’d pulled back. The way she’d left, as if what they’d shared hadn’t been anything more than a hookup.
But for once, it’d felt different to him. Not just another night with some random woman he could walk away from without a second thought. There’d been something there—something he couldn’t quite name, but he’d felt it all the same.
Or maybe that had just been him. Maybe she hadn’t felt anything for him at all.
The thought didn’t sit right.
He didn’t do clingy. So why the hell did it bother him that she’d run?
By the end of her shift, Shylo’s feet ached, her lower back throbbed, and the mix of beer, grilled meat, and fryer grease clung to her like it had no intention of letting go.
Bar None had thinned out over the last half hour, leaving the dining room almost empty.
A couple of regulars lingered at the bar, nursing drinks while a game played on the TV overhead, the low murmur of commentary blending with the clink of glassware and the occasional burst of laughter.
It should’ve been comforting. Familiar. Predictable. Work had become that for her—a place where she knew exactly what was expected and what she had to give. Take orders. Deliver drinks. Keep moving. Don’t think too much.
The routine kept her occupied and everything else at bay. Usually.
Unfortunately, her mind had been doing whatever it wanted all weekend—mainly thinking about Seth.