Page 90 of Not That Complicated

“Clock watching, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Right Where do I sign?” I scanned the paperwork, signed where I was instructed to, shook Liam’s hand, and drove home.

It was a wreck.

I let myself in and looked around. What the fuck?

My furniture was shoved to the back walls, plaster dust was everywhere, the carpet was still rolled up in the sitting room—and by rolled up, I mean it was in a wadded heap—the understairs cupboard door was off its hinges and propped up against the wall.

It looked like a bunch of teenage hoodlums had been through here, not a highly trained forensics team.

It made the mess that the local crew had left in the master bedroom look like the aftereffects of a small and genteel tea party.

This looked like the aftereffects of a looting.

I dialled Liam’s number.

He sent me to voicemail. Thearse. That’s what his tone was about.

I stood in my icy cold hall—they’d turned the heating off for some reason—clutching my luggage, and shivered.

If I hadn’t been stuck in traffic for hours, I’d have been here after lunch and could have done something about it. But I was tired! I wanted sleep!

I could go back to Steeple Norton.

Or I could go to the Premier Lodge.

My hand tightened on the strap of my laptop bag.

I’d see Adam. Life-size, radiating warmth, in-the-flesh Adam.

And just like that I was slammed with a desperate urge to see him, feel his heat, let him take care of me. But I was too damn scared.

I’d been playing that phone sex on a loop in my head, and it had hit me that there had been something final about it.

What if I went there, ran into him, and whatever strange thing we had going on was over?

On the other hand, he might lie on top of me.

Fuck it.

I’d made enough on the craft beer job to cover another night at the Lodge.

I blew through the maindoors like I didn’t have a care in the world. It wasn’t until I saw the friendly woman who’d checked me out a week ago at the front desk that I realised I’d once again fallen into the trap of expecting Adam to be there simply because I wanted him to be.

And to be honest with you, she wasn’t all that friendly today.

In fact, as soon as she laid eyes on me, her professional smile frosted over.

“Hello,” I said.

“Good evening.”

“Um. I’d like to check in?”

“Do you have a reservation?”

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