Page 7 of Forbidden King (Magnolia Falls)

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl,” he said, and I rolled my eyes before pulling out my nail gun and shooting it into the wood more times than necessary.

Saylor chuckled at the dude, and I couldn’t believe she was buying this bullshit.

“Hey, Saylor, can you give me a hand with this piece?” I said, glancing over my shoulder.

Did I need her help? No.

Did I have six guys here that were working a few feet away that could help me? Absolutely.

But I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t like the way he was looking at her.

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

“I need to get to the gym anyway. I’ve got a client meeting me in five minutes. I wanted to see if you’d want to watch that movie tonight? The one I told you about?”

“Oh, yes, about the Australian surfer?” she asked, as she moved in my direction and set the flowers on the table before her hand rested on the piece of wood that I was holding up just fine on my own.

“Yes. I could grab takeout, and we could watch the movie over at my place if you’d like.”

“That sounds great. I’d love to.”

Really? An Australian movie? This guy was pouring it on thick.

And she was going out with him two nights in a row? Did she actually like this dude?

And should she be going to his house already? We barely knew this dude.

“Great. I’ll text you later.” He kissed her cheek, and my hand gripped the wood a little harder as he turned his attention to me. “Catch you later, mate.”

Yeah, how about you pack your shit and go on over to the Outback and order yourself some shrimp on the barbie, you fake Australian motherfucker.

“Yep. If you’re lucky,” I said, with a forced smile.

He waved and walked out the door.

“What was that?” Saylor asked, eyes wide as she held up the wood that was already attached and didn’t require any support whatsoever.

“Exactly. What was that?” I repeated her words back to her.

“I’m talking about you.” She barked out a laugh. “Why were you so rude to him?”

“What? I wasn’t rude. I’m never rude.”

“Once again, that’s my point. You’re never rude, and you were definitely not friendly. Do you even know him?”

I pounded the nail gun in about four times too many and really secured the piece. This counter could survive a category ten natural disaster at this point.

“I didn’t know you went out with him last night,” I said, as I pushed to my feet and assessed my work.

“Well, we didn’t talk last night because you told me you were going to Whiskey Falls, which means you probably ended up taking home the latest flavor of the week, so I didn’t know you’d want to do pillow talk with me.” She tried to hide her smile because she was pleased with herself.

“Hey now, you know pillow talk with you is my favorite thing.” That’s what she used to call it all those years ago when I’d climb into her bed to keep her nightmares away. We fell asleep every single night for over six months the same way. My grandparents had no idea, as we’d each go to our own rooms after saying goodnight, and then I’d sneak across the hall after the house was quiet.

We would tell one another about our days and share all our worries and dreams before she’d fall asleep in my arms.

We were young. Nothing physical ever happened. I’d never cross that line.

But I’d be lying if I said pillow talk with Saylor Woodson wasn’t the best part of my day back then.

---