Chapter 19
Like She Used To
Eddie
Ireally hoped I would beat Kiki to the job site.
No such luck.
When I park my truck at the entrance, she’s already there, and I’m absolutely not prepared for this moment.
I spent the entire weekend convincing myself I could see her again and feel nothing. That I’d be fine. That whatever I felt for her is dead and buried. That I could pull off a decent acting job and convince everyone of that fact.
But let’s get real. I’m not fooling anyone, least of all myself.
The second she steps out of her car, I hear the murmurings from my crew.
“Damn… who is that?”
“Jesus…”
Low, under-the-breath comments. The kind I choose to ignore.
Mike glances my way, unscrewing the lid on his thermos. “Is she the owner?”
“No.” I keep my eyes on my clipboard, pretending to read something of the utmost importance. “That’s the interior designer. Kiki Wilder.”
His brows lift. “Kiki? As in your Kiki?”
“She’s not my Kiki.” A muscle jumps in my jaw as I tap my pen against the clipboard. “Not anymore.”
I mumble the last sentence, but Mike hears every word.
He studies her for another second, then nods. “She’s a beautiful woman.”
He’s not wrong.
I always thought Kiki was gorgeous. But I’m used to seeing her dressed down in sweats and oversized sweaters, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. The kind of woman who doesn’t need to try.
Today, she’s dressed to kill.
She’s wearing a tailored charcoal suit that hugs her frame, paired with heels that have no business being anywhere near a job site. Her hair is pulled back from her face, a few loose strands falling forward.
She looks perfect, which is perfectly horrible for me.
She clutches her briefcase like a shield and makes a beeline toward me, but even from several feet away, I see the nerves threading through her polished exterior.
Guess she doesn’t know how to act around me either, which I hate to admit makes me feel a tad better.
Okay Landry, time to stow these emotions for Kiki at a safe distance. Like Saturn.
I grab my hard hat from the truck and nod toward her feet with a scowl. “Those shoes are a ridiculous choice for a job site.”
Yeah. Maybe not the most civil opener.
Kiki glances down at her heels and shifts her foot from side to side, which only gives me a better view of the long, smooth lines of her legs.
I’ve had those legs wrapped around me. Explored every inch of them with my hands and mouth. I know how they feel, how they taste.
Thanks for that memory, brain.
“I just… I wanted to look nice,” she stutters.
“This is a job site, not a fashion show.” The guilt hits me immediately because I’m not that guy, that rough, wizened asshole who snaps off whatever the hell he feels, regardless of who it might hurt.
Not even with her.
I turn and walk into the main foyer before glancing over my shoulder.
Kiki trails a few steps behind, picking her way carefully across the once-grand entrance, which now lies beneath a blanket of broken glass and debris.
Last thing I need is her breaking a bone on day one. Jesus.
“Come on,” I say, offering my elbow. “I’ll lead you through the melee.”
“Thank you.” At first, Kiki’s grip is tentative, as if she fears touching me might burn her. But when she missteps, instinct takes over. She latches on, one hand turning into two, her briefcase swinging against her hip as she steadies herself against me, tucking herself in close like she used to.
For one stupid second, I bask in her warmth, and the memory of what it felt like to hold her without all this emotional distance between us.
But that was then, and this is now.
I shift, offering my other arm to steady her, giving her a second to find her footing before I glance at her feet. “Told you those shoes were ridiculous.”
She smooths her hand down the front of her suit jacket and releases a strangled laugh. “You’re right. I should have known better. But I figured since we were meeting Mr. Montague today, I wanted to look the part. Not that I even know what that part looks like anymore.”
No. We’re not going there. Doesn’t matter what she did to me—the woman needs to believe in her work.
I hook a finger under her chin, tipping her face up until she meets my gaze. “You’re a hell of a designer, Kiki Wilder. You’ve already impressed the hell out of him. That’s why you’re here. The suit is just a bonus.”
Her lips twitch in a tremulous smile. “Yeah, and if I wind up with a broken ankle in the ER, that’ll really put the icing on the cake for the morning.”
“Let’s not tempt fate by saying that aloud, okay?”
“Fair enough.” Even though she’s steady on her feet again, her fingers remain curled around my arm.
Everything about her still feels natural. Right. But I need to maintain my distance, or I’ll never stand a chance of moving on from her.
I peer down at her hand. “I think you’re safe now.”
She drops her arm with a nervous titter. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
It still could be, Kiki, if you hadn’t dumped me.
There’s my good old pal anger again, bubbling just below the surface. I wonder if it’s ever going to fade away.
“What time will Mr. Montague get here?” Seems Kiki is as desperate as I am to steer us to neutral ground.
“No idea if I’m being honest.” I shrug. “Hopefully soon. He said he doesn’t want to start anything until he signs off. Apparently he’s got very specific ideas about the house.”
Kiki grins. “Don’t they always? The richer they are, the more eccentric they are.”
I laugh, the first real one I’ve managed this morning. “Isn’t that the truth? Time to grab some grub before the big man arrives.”
I rarely eat breakfast on my days off, but when I’m working, I eat my weight in calories. Today is no exception. I settle against the edge of an old table, presumably left by the former owners, and pull a bacon and egg sandwich from my bag. “Did you eat?”
She shakes her head. “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
My gaze sweeps over her lithe frame. She’s thinner again, like when we first started hanging out.
Once again, concern rears its ugly head, which makes no damn sense.
She broke up with me. The fact that she’s unhappy now is not my issue, right?
Wrong. That’s the trouble with loving someone. It doesn’t matter if they deserve your love. You give it anyway. Love makes fools of us all, and with Kiki, I’m no exception.
I hold out half of my sandwich. “Come on. Eat it.”
She makes no move to take it. “I’ll probably end up wearing it. You know how much of a mess I make when I eat.”
“You’ll be fine.” I tip the sandwich toward her. “You have to eat, Kiki. It’s going to be a long day.”
“Maybe just a few bites. My stomach is a tangle of nerves, anyway.”
Mike lifts his breakfast in offering from his perch across the room. “You can take a couple of bites of mine, Kiki.”
“Shut it down over there,” I bark, shooting him a look that says, in no uncertain terms, to knock it the hell off.
“Hey, I’m just trying to be helpful,” Mike replies with an easy shrug. “Make Kiki feel welcome. I’m Mike, by the way.”
Kiki presses a hand to her chest and offers him a small smile. “I appreciate that, Mike. Thank you.”
And just like that, my jealousy careens into the red.
Here’s the thing—Mike knows Kiki and I dated, but he’s not shooting his shot. He’s trying to lighten the mood because he knows I’m a fucking disaster right now. No matter what I tell him, the man has known me too long not to see through my bullshit.
Doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to have a talk with my guys later. Make it real clear Kiki is off-limits.
Look, I don’t know if she’s dating or screwing anyone in her free time, and that’s not my business. But my guys need to stay away from her, because I don’t feel like having daily knockdown, drag-out brawls in the middle of this job site.
Will I?
When it comes to Kiki?
Better believe I will.
“Do you want the sandwich or not?” I snap... then push it closer.
Her gaze cuts to me, her deep brown eyes wide. “Please. You make the best egg sandwiches… and pancakes.”
Why is she doing this to me? Dragging me down memory lane?
Randy, one of my newer crew members, waves at me from the doorway before pointing toward the main entrance. “A caravan of vehicles just arrived.”
Showtime. I ball up the rest of my sandwich and down the final dregs of coffee before popping a mint. “Okay, guys, let’s show Mr. Montague what we’re made of, yeah? You’re all amazing, and we are going to deliver the best damn restoration Sparkwood has ever seen. You ready?”
The guys laugh as they exchange high fives. They know what a break this is for us, and our wallets.
I pull a hand through my hair and pivot to see Kiki regarding me with a wide smile. “What?”
“Your pep talk. It’s just like with Theo. No wonder they love you so much.”
“I don’t know about all that, but mutual respect goes a hell of a lot further than micromanaging. At least in my experience.”
Kiki skews her mouth to the side, and it’s a tell I know well. Before our breakup, it usually ended with her grabbing me into a fierce kiss that led to hours of playtime.
Since I know that won’t be happening now, I’m not entirely sure what’s going through her brain.
Or if I want to know.
She steps in front of me and rests a palm on my chest. With a measured sigh, she raises her gaze to meet mine.
“Here’s your pep talk. You, Eddie Landry, are the most talented craftsman I know.
It’s almost as if you can speak to these old homes and hear their secrets.
” She glances around at the dilapidated remains of the dining hall, and nods.
“I’ll bet this house is so very happy you’re here. I know I am. Thank you.”
“For what?” Those two words are all I can manage. Her off-the-cuff speech has left me a bit tongue-tied.
But Kiki doesn’t get a chance to answer as a flurry of people descends on us.