Chapter 19
nineteen
LYDIA
Lydia: Well, I guess I’m keeping the enemy close now.
*Call from Autumn Carroway*
Will never texted back last night.
I was already on the fence about texting him. I’m trying to figure out how the hell I went from hating his guts to getting weak in the knees whenever I think about him, but somewhere along the way it happened. The damage is done. And if I’m being honest, I’d let him damage me again in a heartbeat.
The way he talked about his dad… and that email, and what happened after?
It was so raw. Yes, he’d just fucked me, and yes, it was the best sex of my life, but sitting in his lap in the darkness as he told me about what happened felt a million times more intimate.
His voice was so quiet but clear, like he’d been waiting his whole life to tell someone that.
But that’s stupid. There’s no way that this man—who could clearly have any woman he wanted just by glaring down at her with those clear, sapphire eyes of his—would, for some reason only god knows, open up to me.
So, of course he didn’t text back. I should have known.
Will hasn’t been into the library since yesterday, and I can only imagine what that means.
He’s probably sitting with his feet up on an office desk, perfecting those freaking blueprints.
Even with the redesigned foyer, I know it’s not going to be enough.
The requirements for securing landmark status are clear, and unless I can talk Will—and the board—into turning the downstairs meeting room into a computer lab, my dream is gone.
But I’m still holding out hope. Contrary to what I first thought, Will is a decent guy.
Once the awkwardness dies down, I’m going to try one more time to make my case—even if it means getting on my knees and begging.
Because now that I think about it, why can’t the downstairs meeting room be turned into a computer lab?
It’d save the city money, preserve the authenticity of the floor plan, and probably even get the project done faster.
Hell, that sounds like a win-win for everyone… right?
“How’s it going out here, Lydia?”
I’m snapped out of my thoughts as Nancy comes striding out of her office. I paste on a smile. “Going fine, thanks.”
“I’m stepping out for a coffee run. You want anything?”
I shake my head. I’m jittery enough the way it is, my mind constantly running through plausible floor plan options I could push for with Will…
which then makes me remember how warm his mouth was between my legs.
Another coffee is going to send me through the absolute roof.
But I’m certainly not going to tell Nancy that.
“Okay,” Nancy says. “Suit yourself. Say, has Will been by today?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” I say, shrugging.
Nancy looks at me like she’s about to say something, but then thinks better of it. I wonder suddenly what she would think if she knew that I’d come all over Will Holloway’s fingers in the next room over. There better not be fucking cameras in this place.
“Well, if you see him, tell him that Ethan Wilde wants to know—”
“What’s Ethan Wilde want to know?”
Will comes thundering up the foyer steps, and I hear the front door swing closed behind him. As he strides into the main room, removing his sunglasses and hanging them from the unbuttoned collar of his flannel shirt, he gazes around the room, squinting up at the windows.
“Oh, great timing,” Nancy chirps, like she’s just delighted beyond belief to see him. And honestly, if he hadn’t completely ignored me last night after fucking me and talking to me like it meant something, I might be happy to see him, too.
But he did ignore me. And I am not happy to see him. So when his gaze moves to mine and lingers there, I keep my face neutral. Like nothing between us ever happened. I mean, that’s what he wants—right?
“Yeah, gotta check some lighting stuff,” Will says, breaking eye contact with me and flashing a smile at Nancy. “Can I help with something?”
As Nancy explains to Will what Ethan Wilde wants to know—something about hardware and what fixtures Will plans to use—I try hard not to look at him, to play it cool.
For all he knows, I haven’t even noticed he didn’t text me back.
But once or twice I feel his gaze flick over to me, and it takes every single ounce of my strength not to look up at him.
When Nancy finally leaves for Brewed Awakening, Will swaggers over to me and hoists himself onto my desk. He raps his knuckles on the desk in front of me.
“Hey.”
“Get off my desk,” I say.
“Make me.”
I look up at him. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Will, I’m working. I’ve got actual shit to do.”
“Me, too.”
“Okay, so get to it. Don’t you have to check—” I gesture vaguely. “—lighting stuff?”
“I will. I just want to talk. About last night.”
“Oh, now you want to talk?” I lay down my pencil with more force than I mean to, fully aware that I’ve just blown my cover. He now definitely knows I’m pissed about the text—or lack thereof.
Will winces. He grins sheepishly. “Sorry, I was tired. You can’t fault me for that.”
“I don’t fault you for anything.”
I go back to scanning barcodes. I’ve got a lot of books to shelve, so if Will’s got a point to make, I hope he gets to it fast. I’m also not sure how long I can keep up the aloof act with that spicy pine scent of his drifting toward me from across the desk. He smells so damn good.
“Huh.” Will stares at me for another moment, then looks to the ceiling, like he’s pondering something. “Well, tomorrow will be interesting. With you not talking to me, seems like that’ll be a pretty shit booth we’re running. Damn shame for the library.”
Well, shit.
He’s right. The fall festival is tomorrow afternoon. We’ve got to man that stupid fundraiser booth—which I’m not happy about, anyway. But I couldn’t say no to helping the library with fundraising.
I draw in a deep breath through my nose, but I don’t turn to look at him. It’s what he wants, and I won’t let him get to me.
“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” I say, my tone crisp.
“Right.” Will’s quiet a moment before he hops off the desk. I can tell he wants to say something else, but, like me, is holding back. “Well, I guess I’ll get back to work.”
“You do that.”
I steal a glance up at him, and he’s looking at me like I just slammed a door in his face for no reason.
I feel a little guilty. After all, I went into last night with eyes wide open.
I knew perfectly well we were at odds, and that Will’s goals are in direct conflict with mine.
I’m also aware that just because someone fucks you, it doesn’t mean they want anything further with you.
So I really don’t have a reason to be pissed at him.
As Will heads back to the foyer, still squinting up at the windows and tapping furiously into his phone, I realize what my problem is. I don’t even think I’m pissed at Will at all. I think I’m pissed at myself for thinking anything could ever change.