“No problem, we’re still here closing up.”
I nodded, the tension in my gut uncoiling a little. She wasn’t acting as if she’d seen anything crazy. I risked a glance at her, and those blue eyes cranked my adrenaline right up again.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier. Do you live nearby?” Her tone was light and friendly and she leaned against the door, hands behind her back. It made her breasts stick out a little, and I looked at them before I could help myself. The thought of accidentally choking her jumped unbidden into my mind, and I took a step back.
Shit. Just get the fuck out of here.
“I gotta go.” Without meeting her eyes, I turned and counted off my paces in sets of eight as I hurried away from her.
Hating myself, I went home and cleaned my house from top to bottom, took another shower (during which I jerked off to her again, which only made me feel more loathsome), ate dinner staring at a stupid cable news show that reaffirmed my belief that the world was a fucked-up place full of greed and cruelty, and went to bed.
Staring at the empty space beside me, I counted myself to exhaustion, and fell asleep.
• • •
The next day was better, although I was angry with myself for being such a dick to Skylar.
To work it off, I went to the gym in the morning and spent the early afternoon working outside at my cabin. The piece of property on Old Mission Peninsula I’d inherited from my mother was small, but it was well off the main road and had about twenty waterfront feet, although no beach. The land had been in her family for a hundred years or so, and when she died, it was divided into three parcels and willed to my two brothers and me. They’d sold their plots to a developer, but I’d held on to mine and built a cabin on it. A contractor had done the construction last summer, and I’d spent my winter working on the interior, installing reclaimed wood floors and kitchen cabinets, stained concrete counters, new appliances, a stone and tile bathroom downstairs. The whole place wasn’t even eight hundred square feet, but it was plenty of room for me.
My latest project was an outdoor shower. With the water line prepped and in place, I began working on installing the solar water heater, so that showers out here would be refreshing rather than dick-shrinking cold. Of course, the entire time I worked I pictured Skylar underneath the shower heard, warm water running down her body, dripping off her curves, clinging to her skin. Oh fuck. Now I was hard. Frowning, I adjusted my jeans and kept working.
Damn it, why did I panic around her? Why couldn’t I manage a simple conversation? I’d been battling obsessive thoughts for the majority of my life, and Ken was right—I had plenty of strategies in place for dealing with them. So what the fuck was it?
Was it her looks? Was it because I felt guilty for the way I used to think about her? The way I still thought about her? Or was yesterday just a bad day? It was almost like I’d had too many good days, and the asshole in me needed to speak up and remind me I wasn’t OK. I’d never be OK. No matter how many good days there would be in my life, I’d always have to battle the fucked up circuitry in my brain.
I wondered what she was thinking. Would she even talk to me again if I approached her? Once something was on my list, I couldn’t give up on it—and if I didn’t work through my issue with her, it would continue to haunt me. This wasn’t a huge town, so I was bound to run into her from time to time, and I couldn’t run away whenever that happened. Ken was right about that too—avoidance never works, not for me.
I might be an asshole, but I wasn’t a goddamn coward. Not anymore.
Next time I saw her, I’d do better.
I started working for Natalie the next day, and by three o’clock, my feet were killing me, my lower back ached, and I was exhausted. My sisters were both early risers, as were my mom and dad, but waking before six AM felt like medieval torture to me, and the weather wasn’t helping. It had been cloudy and gray all day, and the rain had just started to fall. Nap weather.
“Is it over?” I asked, when the final lunch customers had left, opening their umbrellas before heading out. “If it isn’t, I think I have to quit.”
“It’s over.” Natalie grinned at me over her shoulder as she piled dishes from their table on a tray. “We can close up.”
“Thank God.” Wincing with every step on my sore feet, I went to the door to lock it and flip the sign to CLOSED. Then I collapsed on the nearest stool, flopping forward over the counter. “I’ll help you in a second. I need a rest.”
“Don’t close your eyes,” she warned. “You’ll fall asleep, I know you.”
I did have a knack for falling asleep pretty much anywhere when I was tired. My eyes were already drifting shut as I settled my cheek on one arm. “Shush. Just need a minute.”
“I’m taking these dishes to the kitchen, and once they’re loaded in the dishwasher, your rest is over.”
“Mmkay.” Drowsy and warm and lulled by the sound of the rain, I’d just started to doze off when a few sharp raps on the glass jarred me awake. “Go ‘way. Closed,” I mumbled without picking up my head.
The knocking continued, growing even louder. What the hell, could this person not read?
“OK, OK.” Reluctantly, I slid off the stool and turned to see a drenched Sebastian Pryce through the glass, rain coming down in sheets behind him.
My stomach jumped, and I rushed over to the door, fumbling with the lock before pushing it open. “Come on in,” I said, a little breathless. All I could think of were his words about me. I could still see them on the page…