Page 54 of A Little More

“Worth a shot, I guess.” He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her tight as they walked toward the kitchen. How could he not think about sleeping with her? Every curve of her body fit him. “My tool bag should be by the back door.”

If she wanted to redo his kitchen, he’d let her. To survive, however, he’d have to focus on the moment and not on the inevitable emptiness she’d leave behind.

Each time he walked through the kitchen, he’d think of her, wonder what she was up to. He’d already screwed himself in a hundred different ways.

It’d taken almost two years for all the small nuances of his relationship with Catherine to leave his memory. Even though he’d been with Catherine longer than he expected any relationship to be with Lexi, Lexi would have more of an impact. He knew himself better now than he did when he married Catherine.

Which meant he knew what he wanted.

And he wanted Lexi.

Nash handed Lexi the tape measure, giving her space. It was foolish to think that they would separate without any consequence.

It didn’t matter what he wanted. History would repeat itself. If they continued, trying out a long-distance relationship, one of them would want more of a commitment. Then where were they? Someone having to compromise. Although, from his experience, it was never a compromise. One person would give up their dreams, thinking they were swapping them for something better. He’d done it with Catherine and then for his family…screwed over both times. You couldn’t please everyone.

His mom wouldn’t even gamble on that outcome.

“What do you think about the sink over here, under the window?” She pursed her lips together and tapped her finger on her chin. “Fridge against that wall?”

She waited for his response. He wanted to tell her to do whatever she wanted. Not that he didn’t want the kitchen. Eventually, he’d have to do something to the house, but she had so many ideas saved up since college, he’d give her this. A full run of his house.

He couldn’t give her a future, but he could make her happy here for a while. No matter how much it would hurt to walk into his kitchen every day, thinking of Lexi.

She typed in the measurements on her phone, her hair tucked behind each ear. He’d stick with the original plan. When she left, his new business, the store, would open soon afterward. Even if he mildly, in the back of his mind, contemplated extending their relationship and committing to the long-distance side of the equation, he didn’t see where he’d have the time to visit her.

He’d never expect her to make every trip down to see him. He would give at least fifty percent to the relationship when it came to the travel, more if he had his way, or else he’d walk away. He couldn’t survive not pulling his own weight.

At least he could distract himself, for the time being, ignore the pain that would come soon enough from watching her walk out of his life.

14

With the magical weekend behind her, Lexi faced her desk, minimally organized into three stacks of paper and notebooks. One was a proposal for a new client for the downtown high rise. The other was the project over in Athens, GA. The last was Nash’s store.

And, on her computer screen, she scrolled through pictures of farm style sinks. Because, when there’s too much to do at work, you do something you won’t get paid for, right? Why wouldn’t her brain focus?

“Lexi?”

She jumped. Crap. Getting caught goofing off when the boss walks in is a quicker way to get fired than fraternizing with a client. She cleared her screen back to her email, grimacing when she saw two new emails from countertop vendors. For Nash’s kitchen.

“Hi, Julien.”

He motioned to the stacks on her desk. “It’s not like you to have so much going on at once. I thought the country store job was complete.” His direct stare unnerved her. Sort of like a teacher questioning you when he might already have the answer.

“It’s coming along.”

“John said it’s a few weeks ahead of schedule. Walls will go in later this week.”

Why was he asking her this? She chewed on her fingernail.

“Since when do you bite your nails?”

Damn it.PerfectJulien hadperfectperception, too. Now, she was sweating. And not in a metaphorical way. He’d probably notice that as well.

She looked down at her finger. “Sorry.” Why was she apologizing? God, she really did sound guilty.

He scratched his trimmed, dark beard, his dark eyes never leaving hers. Like a kid’s staring contest.

After nine seconds of silence, she broke contact and studied her fingernails. She never won that game.

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