Page 19 of Playing With Fire
I grip the man’s hand a little firmer than necessary in that way men do to win the pissing match. Greg goes limp fish and sneers. “Well, thank God my wife is accustomed to a certain lifestyle or I might be concerned about leaving her here all day knowing you’re out there driving around.”
Did this prick just insinuate I’m poor?
Sure, I obviously don’t make his kind of money, but being rich isn’t just about dollar signs. I think about Monica,Camden, Ally, Jake, Dylan, Phoenix, Knox, and hell, even Wendy. I’m plenty rich.
Shannon looks horrified. “Gregor!”
Gregorclaps me on the shoulder. “Ah, he knows what I mean. It was a compliment. Strapping young thing like him, he’s still got plenty of time to figure out what he wants to do with his life.”
I’m usually better at biting my tongue. You learn a lot in the military. Understanding that your opinion doesn’t matter is one of the first things that gets drilled into you. But today, all my training goes out the window.
“With all due respect, I’m thirty-years-old, I served two tours overseas, and now, I’m doing exactly what I want with my life.” Okay, so that’s not entirely true, but close enough for this argument.
Shannon’s eyes flare and I hear her breath hitch.
“I apologize for my husband’s rude comments, Hudson. There’s certainly no need to justify yourself.”
Gregor gives me a scathing glare, letting me know he isn’t happy about his wife taking my side.
“Just a reminder that you can’t always judge a book by its cover,” I tell her, returning the dig to her husband.
She works to hide her smile by folding her lips in on themselves before speaking again. “Oh, before you go, I found this on front porch a couple weeks ago. I assume it belongs to you?”
Shannon holds out the electronic pen that usually stays clipped in my machine. I’d wondered where this had gone.
Then I realize it must have flung out when my scanner smacked her front door.
Shit.
“Oh, uh, thanks. We lose these things all the time,” I say, fumbling to slip the pen in my pocket.
This is the first time I’ve ever been nervous arounda woman. The look in her eyes is telling me not only does she know I saw her, but shewantsme to know she knows. And just like that, I have my answer about how she’d react.
Which is really fucking bad.
My heart does a flip in my chest. A dangerous flip, I might add because her husband is still standing right here looking back and forth, between she and I, as we share this secret.
Gregor clears his throat as if to remind us of his presence, although the gesture isn’t needed. His terrible cologne is singeing my nose hairs and no way could I forget he’s here. “Well, thank you for bringing that in.” He starts to walk toward me, ushering me out the front door.
“Anytime.” I smirk. And just to be a bit of an asshole, I add, “Next time order something with a little weight to it. I like to get my workout in throughout the day and save myself a trip to the gym.” I flex my right biceps as I jog down the stairs, laughing the whole way to my truck.
I finish the day and am relieved when I walk in my front door. The silence is welcome after ringing doorbells, talking to people, and hearing the conversations over the walkie-talkie all day, but sometimes it gets lonely.
I briefly think about calling Wendy again, but after the last time, despite being up front, I felt like trash afterwards. When I closed my eyes to tip over the edge, it was the first time I thought about a woman other than the one I was balls-deep inside of.
So instead of calling, I pour a finger of top-shelf tequila—something Dylan got me hooked on—and sit down to relax while desperately trying to talk myself out of doing something stupid, but I lose that fight quickly. With my ability to produce rational thoughts lowered just enough for me to peer over into the territory ofirrational thoughts that sound like a goodidea, I scour social media for Shannon Hartley.
Chapter 9
Shannon
It was impossible not to notice the heat creeping up Hudson’s neck when I handed him his pen. I don’t know what hit the door that day, but it was loud enough to startle me. By the time I crossed the foyer to peer out of the glass, I only saw the back of his truck and his pen on the ground, along with an envelope I didn’t have to sign for because it only contained a new magnetic pack of grocery sheets.
I was so turned on by the idea of him watching me, I had to get myself off a second time. I came quickly as I pictured those amber eyes and the muscles that beg for attention beneath his uniform.
Today, as if taunting me, he wore only a t-shirt instead of his short-sleeved, button-up uniform top and I was wet instantly just from the way it was hugging his pecs.
The pictures I sent Greg from that day did nothing to stoke the fires of passion like I’d hoped. Instead, I earned a lecture about how easy it is to hack phones these days and what people would think if these got out. I tucked my tail between my legs and apologized while my resentment continued to grow.
