Page 64 of Ten Hammers

Winnie

Gavin drives with one hand on the steering wheel and holds my hand with the other, all the way back to Smithville. We go to the Hammer House first, to change into work clothes. The place is quiet so things across the street must already be in full swing. I’m tempted to take a moment to text Goldie I’ve lost it!, just to see if she gets it right away or if she texts back and says Lost what? But I want to keep this to myself for a while.

“I’m headed over,” Gavin calls. It took him like two minutes to change.

“Be there in a few!” I call back. I’m not ready because choosing underwear has gotten way more complicated, now that I know the possibility is very real he could be seeing me in them. Taking them off. I think of the way he looked at me last night, looked at me naked, like he’d just unwrapped the world’s best Christmas present.

Part of me hadn’t wanted to leave the Creepside Inn this morning. To just stay there forever, having sex with Gavin in that heart-shaped bed. I wonder if the owners would be interested in selling. We could buy it and fix it up–except the Honeymoon suite. Wouldn’t change a damn thing about that particular room.

Every time I think about how it felt to have his weight on top of me, his cock inside me, I have to blink away tears. I never thought it was possible to feel that desired. That chosen. That loved.

I make a mental note to go on an online shopping spree that night, to get some sexy underthings and maybe some actual lingerie, but for now, I settle for what what I have, which is more function than fashion, but I do choose a bra and panties that match.

Then I trot downstairs. Gavin and I didn’t stop for breakfast along the way and I’m suddenly ravenous.

Well, we did burn plenty of calories, I think.

I stop in the kitchen to make a couple of smoothies to take over and am surprised to find Max in the kitchen.

“Oh,” I say. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“I left my water bottle,” he says.

I can feel him watching me as I move about the room, gathering a couple of bananas, and some peanut butter.

I glance at him. His head is tilted. He’s looking at me thoughtfully. Studying me. “What?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I reply, heading to the freezer for ice. “Want a smoothie?”

“Did you fuck Gavin last night?”

It’s a good thing I’d put everything I’d been holding down on the island. I would’ve dropped it.

I whip around and blink at Max. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… you spent the night with him. So. I was just assuming…”

“You know what they say about assuming, Maxwell,” I say. Maxwell isn’t a cute nickname thing like what I do with Jack. It’s his actual full name, what Max is short for, and I hope my usage of it tells him he’s crossed a line.

“So… you two didn’t…?”

“Max!” I point at the list of rules. “Number four, buddy.”

4. STFU, you filthy braggart. Keep your time with Win private.

“I’m asking you, I’m not asking Gav. You can tell me whatever you want.”

I square my shoulders and stare him down. Then I go over and pick up the dry erase marker and underneath the original list, I write:

Win’s Rules

1. All relationships are separate but equal, until I make a choice.

2. I’m not choosing until the reno is over.

3. I don’t kiss and tell.

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