Page 34 of Matched

Chapter Thirteen

Tony

While hammers bang away, I tack on the final layer of sheetrock with the drywall nails and then grab my towel off the floor and swipe at the sweat that’s trickling down my bare chest. Once I’m done drying off my face, I sling the towel around my neck and study my handiwork. Fourth wall I’ve completed at Bennett’s site today. Not too shabby.

“Feeling proud of yourself?”

My gaze jerks over to where Inara’s standing. Her sweat-dampened curls are pulled back into a messy bun and her tank top is so wet, it’s clinging to her curvy form like a second skin. When she lifts her arms over her head to stretch, pulling the material taut over her breasts, I swallow hard. And then she turns to drop something in a toolbox, and it doesn’t help at all. Her ass in those shorts is a work of art, and that damned butterfly tattoo on her left shoulder keeps taunting me. It’s all I can do not to groan out loud. I’ve been kicking myself every time I skip out on speaking to her about our sexual encounter.

After the party a couple of days ago, she definitely appeared to be flirty and possibly open to trying again. But as is the nature of our jobs, the guys and I got the call we were needed, and any hope of either talking or having another shot with my wife went out the window. And after spending time with her, getting to know her more, my balls are constantly aching because she’s sizzling—she’s the whole damn package.

Inara stares at me, complete with a high-arched brow, and I shrug. “It’s hard not to feel a sense of accomplishment when you build something and see the progress, but it’s a team effort. We’ve all been working hard.”

She gasps and presses a hand to her chest. “Will wonders never cease? Is that modesty I hear coming from Tony Martinez? I’d better mark this day on my calendar.”

“Oh, you think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?”

She glances up at me from beneath her eyelashes and flashes me a sultry smile. “Oh, I don’t think I’m funny—I know I am.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that my wife was flirting with me again. To distract myself, I pull a cold bottle of water out of the cooler and flick icy droplets at her. She squeals.

“That’s what you get for being so cocky. Remember, I might be built”—I flex a bicep at her—“but my ego is delicate. When I take the high road and act modest, that’s the signal for you to shower me with accolades.” I finish half the bottle in a few big gulps before offering it to her.

She downs the remaining half just as quickly. “Right. Sorry. I must have forgotten that part of the vows somehow.” She turns to peruse the wall, rubbing her chin and prowling up and down the length like she’s a paid inspector.

When she finally turns back to me, I waggle my eyebrows. “Well?”

She places a hand on her hip. “I was planning on giving you a hard time, but I’ve got nothing. You actually have done an amazing job. Even Bennett commented on how great it’s been to have you here, taking charge and helping teach some of the younger guys the ropes.”

Her heartfelt praise makes my pulse race. Heat rises to my cheeks. To hide my reaction, I toss my head and strike a pose, with one hand on my hip and the other behind my neck. “That’s what I’m talking about. Keep it coming.”

Inara snort laughs. “You’re too much.” She reaches out, grabs my hand, and tugs. “Come on. Let’s go get some of that flan my mom sent.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Inara’s mother makes the best flan. Before I moved here it had been months since I’d had a halfway decent one. In the neighborhood where I grew up in California, getting flan wasn’t all that hard. And that was when I didn’t have any at home freshly made.

We head to the folding table outside where a bunch of snacks are arranged, including my mother-in-law’s flan. The hot sun feels good on my bare back. People scurry around, carrying more sheetrock and tools, while Inara and I help ourselves to bowls of the golden dessert.

Hammering and sawing provides the soundtrack while Inara and I sit on a tarp and shove forkful after forkful into our mouths. Nothing makes me hungrier than physical labor. Building this house is an energy outlet and distraction that I welcome, especially since I’m still trying to come to terms with my feelings for Inara.

Do I love waking up to her cute booty in those pajama shorts? Yes. Do I love the idea that each month that passes only brings us closer and closer to our eventual end? No. Not at all. In fact, the more time that ticks by, the more I question my plan to end this marriage before it’s barely has a chance to begin. When we first got hitched, the idea of walking away was easy. Simple. Now I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to crawl.

Of course, there’s a part of me that wants to get the hell outta Dodge, the part that tells me Inara has no reason to want to remain a couple, even if I have a change of heart. Yeah, I’ve got some rock hard abs and yeah, I would die to protect her, but that’s the problem—I could literally die at any point in this job. And there’s no way I want to put someone through what my father and I went through when my mother passed away. Just like I don’t want to risk getting so wrapped up in a woman that I end up like my dad.

I grind my teeth before exhaling. No reason to reminisce about things that can’t be changed. Lifting the bowl and tilting it, I place my lips against the ceramic so I can slurp down the slight sheen of flan liquid left at the bottom. Just as the sweet syrup hits my tongue, I catch Inara’s gaze on me. I’m afraid she’s going to lecture me, just like she did when she caught me drinking milk out of the carton. Instead, she tilts her head and nibbles on her lip.

Fuck it. Tossing the bowl aside, I place a finger under her chin and lift as I bend to meet her. Our lips are a breath away and I can’t resist. Not with her sitting so close, surrounding me with her warmth and deliciously sweet scent. I press my mouth to hers, sealing my end of the deal. We kiss a few brief moments before someone whistles in the background, reminding us that we’re not alone. She pulls away, giggling, but it’s enough for now. I’m already planning the rest of the day out in my head. No more avoiding. Tonight, I’m going to seduce my wife and get her to show me everything she likes.

My body is already humming in anticipation when my phone buzzes. I glance down carelessly, but then go rigid. Quickly, I reread the message. Slower this time.

Son of a bitch. This is karma for the thoughts I had of running earlier.

“What is it? Is everything okay?”

Inara’s worried voice breaks through my focus. I glance up from the text and force a smile, for her benefit. “It’s Bear. Looks like we’re getting shipped out.”

“What? You guys have barely been back two months. And didn’t someone on one of the teams just end up in the hospital, from a training exercise?”

I rub the back of my neck. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she didn’t want me to go. “Yeah, but that’s the way it goes. Welcome to SEAL life. Isn’t it grand?”

Her hands clench into fists. “No, it’s not. It sucks.”

Then Inara shocks the hell out of me by stomping off toward the street, leaving me with my mouth gaping open. I know my half-hearted joke was pretty stupid, but still. I didn’t mean to upset her. How had I managed to set her off so badly? Guess it’s a good reminder that despite getting along better lately, our personalities just don’t mesh.

I shoot Bear a return text and then take a quick look around. All my prior sense of accomplishment is gone. It disappeared with Inara. Now, all I notice is a shell of a house. Empty.

I shiver. This void is way too reminiscent of how I’d felt once my mom was gone. I stare off into the distance, already missing my wife’s floral scent, and the sound of her throaty laugh.

Though, maybe I dodged a bullet. Karma had worked in my favor by calling me back to duty sooner rather than later. Spending so much time near Inara has been breaking down the walls I’ve built to keep me safe. A little time away with my men is exactly what I need to get my head back on straight.

The next ten months can’t go quickly enough.

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