Page 68 of Tough Nut to Crack

"I've managed to get a lot done."

An easy task, considering I've been hiding from Riley.

"I have the electricity back on downstairs, at least."

"I hate you had to deal with a house fire, man," Chase says.

"It wasn't too bad," I say, despite the attitude I had when it first happened.

I was so quick to blame Riley, when, in fact, I was the one who couldn't get my shit under control with her swaying in my kitchen as she cooked.

I'd been the one to tell her that we were just having a little fun, and yet I'm the one who can't keep my hands off of her. I'm the one lying in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling, wishing I had the warmth of her skin against me.

And that's how I know I'm in trouble.

Sex with her is incredible, no doubt the most satisfying experiences I've ever had, yet I'd be content just to have her in my arms.

My pulse pounds behind my eyes at the thought of having ruined the chance to feel her against me again.

I watch out the front door as the twins, Ethan, and the other guys on my crew grab what they need for the day from the shop. I could probably line out what they need to do today and go back to bed, but I know it would only be a wasted effort because, as tired as I am, sleep hasn't been coming very easily. It's hard to relax when my skin is itching with need.

I feel like a fucking drug addict, and there's a part of me that hates the vulnerability of it.

I grumble under my breath, wishing things were different. Part of me wishes that I never propositioned her in the first place because it's a lot harder knowing now what I'm missing out on.

"You seem a little on edge," Chase says, and I know he's digging.

After Mrs. Easter posted in the community group, I knew the entire town had to be gossiping about my truck being parked at Riley's house. I swear, when I've been there, I've noticed an increase in traffic on her damn street with nosey-ass people driving by to take alook. I know the guys aren't above speculating what's going on between the two of us over a couple of beers and a game of pool.

"I have a delivery that was supposed to be here Friday, and it still hasn't shown up," I mutter as I step away from the door and turn back to face the nearly completely gutted kitchen. "I'm going to have to spread my guys out over three smaller jobs because the big one we're scheduled to work today can't be done without the lumber.

"You sure that's it?"

I pull the phone away from my face and look down at the contact information because why is this man grilling me right now?

"It's too early for this shit," I grumble.

His laughter grates on my nerves, but I know the guy means well. People who are blissed out with their own happiness always seem to want others around them to have the same. Walker, as the town's bar owner, is always offering advice while serving drinks, but I don't need a therapist right now.

The sound of a car door closing draws my attention back out front.

"I'll talk to you later, Chase. I think my delivery just arrived."

"Chat soon," he says before ending the call.

Thinking my day is looking up with the arrival of my materials, I head out the front door, only there isn't a flatbed truck with lumber on it out by my truck. There's a gorgeous blonde in a sweater that accentuates every single delicious curve of her body.

My heart races as I walk out onto my front porch, knowing as she opens the back driver's side door that she could easily pull out a trash bag with my belongings from her house.

Instead of my things, she straightens from the back of the car with a casserole dish in her hands.

My heart races, both because she doesn't seem keen on kicking me to the curb right now and because I know the woman has the most incredible ability when it comes to food. I've never been happier to see a covered glass dish in my entire life.

"Need help with anything?" Ronnie asks as he approaches her with a wide grin.

"Can you grab that bag, please?" she says, angling her head toward her car.

Ronnie dips his head in agreement, his smile wide as he reaches into the vehicle.

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