Page 44 of Matched By My Rival
I couldn’t help but remember the paint fight with Parker, the sparks that had sizzled between us even then. Even when I’d never fully acknowledged them, more focused on the ember of hostility I kept burning for him.
Cooper, Linc, and I began unloading supplies from the pickup before the rest of the volunteers arrived.
“No Trace again, huh?” I said, mostly to distract myself.
“Nope. He had a big landscaping project,” Cooper said, his voice a bit strained as he carried full paint cans across the lawn.
I followed with paint trays, brushes, and rollers. Linc followed with two ladders. We were still in various stages of scraping and painting around the house. The east side was still being scraped, while the south side was nearly finished. We’d constructed platforms so that we could safely scrape and paint the upper floors.
“I’d like to go see him next weekend, though,” Cooper added. “If you’re up for managing things again?”
I thought of all the tension with Parker, the awkwardness that was likely to ensue when we saw one another, the uncertainty of how I’d handle it. The last thing I wanted was to be in a position that required us to work together.
But I owed it to Cooper.
“Sure, I can do that,” I said.
I’d just have to find a way to call a truce with Parker. No more paint fights, or simmering hostility, or sucker punches.
Just two adults, managing their shit in a grown-up fashion.
Because you’ve got such a good track record of that.
I ignored the voice in my head and finished unloading the supplies so that I could get to work.
As volunteers arrived, I stayed on a platform and scraped until my muscles burned. The sun beat down hard enough that I began to overheat. My T-shirt clung to me with sweat, and with an annoyed huff, I pulled it over my head and dropped it onto the platform beside me.
A breeze skated up my spine, reminding me viscerally of Parker’s hands skimming over my skin—even though his touch had been anything but light. He’d been just as forceful as me, grabbing and holding tight, digging his fingers into my muscles.
I glanced around, suddenly aware of my half-dressed state, but no one was looking at me. Everyone was working. Scanning the guys on the ground, I didn’t see a head of bright gold hair. Just Cooper’s sandy blond, as he stood with Linc discussing something.
Maybe Parker is on the other side of the house.
Not that it mattered where he was. I’d wanted to avoid him. I returned to work, trying to shake off the curiosity, but suddenly I couldn’t get him out of my head. Couldn’t stop wondering what he was doing, if he’d seen me, ifhewas avoidingme.
He’d texted me all week. I hadn’t answered, but I couldn’t bring myself to ignore him completely. I read each word, wishing I’d never agreed to meet HotPan. Wishing I could go back to what we’d had, that I could have my chat buddy on the other side of the screen again, anonymous and safe.
There was nothing safe about Parker Reed. Nothing safe about the way he made me react, or the way his mouth had felt around my dick. Nothing safe about how his blue eyes had blazed up at me while he’d worked me toward orgasm.
He’d looked fierce and aggressive—and hot as hell.
I’d never seen Parker like that, and now I couldn’t get the image out of my mind.
Clearly the sun was getting to me. I climbed down the ladder and grabbed one of the bottles of water from the cooler we’d brought along. Taking a long drink, I casually meandered around the house, observing the volunteers. Some guys were on scaffolding on this side too. A few volunteers were touching up the trim on the opposite side of the house.
Parker was nowhere to be seen.
When I reached Cooper, I couldn’t resist asking. “Was Parker a no-show?”
He glanced at Linc, who checked the clipboard of sign-ins by volunteers. “Not here this week.”
“Fucker,” I muttered.
If anyone had reason to avoid the work site, it was me, damn it. I’d been blindsided by Parker’s presence at the bar last week. I’d had my first bisexual experience with my fucking nemesis. I was the one still trying to wrap my head around my reaction to him.
But I’d set all that aside to be responsible. Because it was petty, personal shit that needed to be kept separate.
I returned to work, but unable to help myself, I pulled out my phone and messaged him back.
