Page 4 of Haystack

The truth is, I study him out of the corner of my eye as we work. I take in the familiar lines of his profile and the way his defined muscles flex with his every movement. When he catches me looking, his pooling eyes crinkle at the corners and it makes my stomach flip in a way I haven't felt since we were teenagers in love.

“We can stop for the day if you’re tired.” Trent steps over a can of wood stain and makes his way toward me.

I tighten my grip on the paintbrush, dipping it into a fresh coat of stain. “Not a chance. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get out of your ridiculous fake winter. At least we know the air conditioning is working in this cottage. But seriously, it’s got to be like fifty degrees in here and somehow you still don’t need a shirt.”

“Relax and enjoy the view, doll.” He lets out a charming laugh and flexes.

Our history is complicated, but the way he looks in his jeans isn’t. The man is gorgeous. He’s tall and so muscular that the fabric of his jeans strains across his toned backside. On top of that, he’s perpetually shirtless.

I refuse to admit that I have been enjoying the view of Trent’s ungodly six-pack a little too much. But that isn’t the reason I want to keep going. The truth is, if we stop working, we might start talking. Talking to Trent will lead to things I’m not ready to face.

For starters, there’s the fact that Trent is here by my side helping me like nothing has changed. It’s almost like I didn’t break his heart into a million pieces and run away from the destruction I caused in his world.

Sawdust clings to my skin and guilt floods my mind. The stakes were always higher for him than they were for me. Trent and his brother grew up in the foster care system. When we dated, it was never casual. He made me into the family he’d never had.

Trent was always careful with my heart, he was so good to me. When I left him along with everything else in this town, I guess I thought he’d hate me. But it seems like time has a way of smoothing old wounds and Trent has a way of loving me even at my worst.

I was all in too, for a time. I thought we’d marry young. But after we lost James, my whole world came crashing down around me. The harder Trent leaned in toward me, the more I felt like I needed to run. A familiar pang squeezes my chest and I push the memory away. Our eyes meet over the unfinished kitchen island and the years fall away. For a moment we're eighteen again.

I avert my eyes, focusing on the untreated wood of the cabinets in front of me. “See, I’m almost done here. In another hour or so, these will be ready for the hardware.”

Trent sighs. "You know something, you're still as stubborn as hell." He reaches across me, taking the paintbrush out of my hands. His warm skin melts on mine.

“Stop it.” I let out a giggle.

“We’re calling it a day, not for you, but for me. I can’t take having to stare at those perky tits through that thin shirt for another minute.”

“Trent, you can’t say those kinds of things to me anymore.” I bite back a laugh.

“The hell I can’t, it’s the truth.” He takes another step backward holding the brush away from me.

I reach for it, knocking both of us off balance in the process. I stumble into his chest. The paintbrush slips out of his hands, falling to the ground. Instead of letting me fall, Trent wraps his arms around me. My goosebumps disappear in an instant and I revel in the heat of his touch. I know I should pull away, but I can’t bring myself to move. Being in his arms again is intoxicating. The strength of his embrace chases away the years and I look up at him, frozen.

His mouth inches toward mine. His eyes locked on me, crinkling at the corners. "If I didn’t love you so much, I’d let you freeze in here."

My momentum falters for a second before I catch myself.Love.The word echoes through my mind as I turn up my podcast. Love isn’t it for me. It comes with risk, loss, and pain. The familiar ache in my chest has grown into a knot. I try to brush off his comment with a too-casual shake of my head but it’s hard with his lips this close to mine. Heat floods my cheeks and my body begs to stay with him.

"I’m sorry for the way I hurt you back then and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to apologize. But we can't go back, Trent." I duck my head to hide the flush rising in my cheeks, but Trent lifts my chin again. I cling to him, a decade of loneliness and longing welling up inside me.

"Who says we have to go back?" His voice drops. "Maybe it's time we moved forward instead."

“No, it isn’t fair. I’ll hurt you. I’ll walk away as soon as my life gets settled. I can’t…” I can’t think straight with the way Trent’s got his fingers locked around my wrist.

“You won’t. We were kids and you lost your brother. I don’t blame you for anything that happened back then. All I care about is you being here now.”

We stay there, frozen in silence. My heart pounds in my chest. Trent inches closer to me and I don’t move away. The truth is, selfishly, I want him to kiss me.

When his lips finally land on mine, the kiss is soft, almost hesitant. It’s nothing like the kiss of the boy who used to have his way with me out behind the haystacks. But the sweet familiarity of it takes my breath away and I melt against him.

I pull back to catch my breath, but our foreheads still touch. His eyes search mine, a question in their depths. I wonder if he’s thinking about the past or worrying about the future. Then it occurs to me that maybe Trent is just as lost in this moment as I am.

A slow smile breaks across his face. "I've missed you, Liv." The admission slips from his lips as natural as his smile.

My heart swells and I find his lips again. This time, there isn’t any hesitation. I press him back against the unfinished wall of the cottage and kiss Trent with a fierce, pent-up desire. My lips are fueled by pure, hungry, adrenaline. Our tongues dance and heat pools low in my belly. I’m consumed by the searing touch of his hands on me. A moan escapes my lips, when he reaches up, fisting my hair in his hands.

But the sound of tires coming up the dirt road has me pulling away from Trent just as quickly as I’d fallen into his arms. My chest heaves and I pant, locked in a heated gaze with him. I glance out of the hole where the window should be and see a white truck heading our way.

“It’s Jameson, probably coming to check in on our progress.” My brother has the absolute worst timing.

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