by Skye Jordan
“I’ll take care of that if you take care of moving it.” She gave him the puppy-dog eyes she used when she wanted something special in the remodel. “Please?”
He smiled and shook his head but agreed. “Anything for you.”
With an extra bounce in her step, she jogged down the stairs to where Mark waited at the bottom, and they continued toward her car together. Watching her walk away with another man at her side didn’t bring Trace relief the way it would have with any other woman he’d slept with over the past year. Or longer.
At some point during the night, Avery had become more than just another hookup. Might have been her sweet laughter in the dark. Might have been the way she’d draped her beautiful body over him, falling asleep with her head against his chest just the way she’d promised. Might have been one of hundreds of other moments they’d shared over the last two months working together. Might have been an all-of-the-above combination.
The what, how, or when didn’t really matter. Because regardless, Trace had to face the fact that Avery could never be just another hookup. She was too damn special.
And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. On the way to the Jeep, Trace heard Mark say, “I’d love to take you out to dinner and catch up. What are you doing tonight?”
That cut a slice in Trace’s gut. He couldn’t hear Avery’s answer, but they hugged again before she got into the car.
Cody appeared at the base of the steps, and Trace put any lingering thoughts of what if out of his mind, stuffed the residual desire and disappointment into a corner, and did what he’d come here to do. For himself and for Avery.
He slapped Cody on the shoulder. “Are you up for moving a piano later today?”
Avery’s gaze blurred over the spreadsheet in front of Delaney. She sat in her sister’s office at the building that would eventually be Wildcard Brews. The space was in the very early stages of construction, basically a shell housing Ethan’s brewing setup. The familiar sound of male shouts echoed through main space beyond the door, drawing Avery’s gaze to the window between the spaces. Beyond, the open space was filled with construction materials and wandering men, the sound of power and hand tools.
“Oh, I’m not going to miss that,” Avery murmured. She looked forward to the day a little serenity entered her life. At least the large crews Trace had brought on to do the earlier jobs like framing and drywall were gone. Now she dealt with fewer men, usually just Trace and whoever was helping him on the job that day.
“I don’t even hear it anymore,” Delaney murmured, her brow furrowed as she turned pages.
After years on job sites, Delaney must have grown immune to the sound of construction the way Avery had grown immune to the sounds of a working kitchen.
Avery returned her focus to the spreadsheet, trying to keep her mind present, but it kept slipping back to Trace. “My life’s beginning to feel like one big construction zone.”
“Same,” Delaney murmured, then sat back and looked at Avery, her brow creased with concern. “Your budget is really tight. I agree that the high-grade appliances were worth the expense, but they really sucked you dry. You need an influx of cash. I’d feel better if you could push up your opening date.”
“Push it up?” Avery’s brows rose. She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t see how.”
“Well, then you’ll have to stay on target. Your operating expenses are threatening to overrun your income. And you’ve drained the well. There’s no more cash to draw on. God, I don’t like this.”
Delaney’s discomfort heightened Avery’s. “That’s because you’re used to working with multi-million-dollar budgets and cash reserves galore. I’m used to operating on a shoestring. It’s tight, but I’ve worked with less.”
Her sister wasn’t convinced. “How much longer is it going to take Trace to get that roof on? There’s rain in the forecast. I’m worried that’s going to slow things down and screw up your grand opening date. You don’t have cushion for that.”
Avery rubbed eyes stinging from fatigue and sighed. “Cody was at the café when I left this morning. He and Trace were consulting on the roof. The materials are already there. You know Trace—he jumps on things. I bet they start tomorrow if they haven’t already. I’ll look at the forecast and talk to him about it.” Avery glanced at her watch. “God, it’s three o’clock already. I’ve got to get back to Phoebe’s and start on website orders.”
“We need to go over your cash flow.” Delaney covered Avery’s hand with hers. “Are you okay? You’ve been under a lot of stress. Working long hours.”
“Yeah, yeah, just a little tired.” She reached for her purse and searched for her recent deposit slips, flipping her hair out of the way. “The lunch orders keep growing, which brings in some steady cash, and I think that’s going to be great for business when the café opens. Phoebe just paid me for this week’s sales, and I got a deposit from Internet sales.”
She piled the latest receipts in her hand and was about to put them on the desk, when Delaney reached out and pulled her hair aside.
“What in the hell is that?” Surprise and a sassy sort of humor lit her sister’s face as she laughed. “Oh my God. A hickey? Aren’t you a little old for a hickey? And who, exactly, gave you that? And even better, when? When have you had time to . . . Oh, that’s why you’re tired.”
Avery pushed Delaney’s hand away and pulled her hair over the mark again. “If I’m a little old for a hickey, you’re way the hell too old for them, and I see them on you all the time. The only difference is that I have the manners not to point them out.”
“Only because you know who’s giving them to me. Who’s that from?” Her smoky-blue eyes lit up. “Huck? Oh my God, Phoebe’s going to be giddy. She’s been dying for you to see him again. Wait till she hears—”
“Don’t. Phoebe is the last person I want to know anything about my personal life at the moment.”
Delaney dropped her elbow on the desk and propped her chin in her hand, eyes sparkling, teeth glimmering in a naughty grin. “Tell me everything. He’s so hot. You’re going to be the envy of every girl in town, which is good. It’ll take some heat off me for snagging Ethan. So? Is he a good kisser? Did you do more than kiss? Tell.”
“It wasn’t Huck,” Avery admitted, her gut heavy with the realization of how her family would feel about her seeing Trace. “And I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Not Huck?” Delaney sat back, frowning. “Then who? But first, why not Huck?”
“There’s no spark. Look, I’ve really tried to follow your advice and ease Phoebe’s mind by dating, but I’m just not interested in anyone, okay?”
Her brows shot up. “Then how’d you get that?”
“It was a fling. One night. Not with anyone I’ve dated. That’s what I want now—easy, no strings. Even the thought of commitment gives me hives.”
“Fling with who?” Delaney pushed.
“It was just one night, so it doesn’t matter who.” Avery started closing up the books.
“Well, was it good?”
Avery smirked. “I know some women love to give every detail of their sexual escapades, but I’m not one of them.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant that if it was good, why stick with just one night? You’re young, single, beautiful, free. And no one deserves some fun, easy lovin’ more than you.”
Avery pulled the accounting book into her lap and met her sister’s blue gaze. “I don’t think that would work for me. It’s better for me to stick with just one night.”
Actually, in hindsight, one time seemed like an even better idea. Because in between the multiple rounds of blockbuster sex with Trace during their one night, a lot of other things had happened. A lot of emotional things that hadn’t required any words. Caresses and looks, kisses and laughter and whispers. Even their silences had seemed to carry weight.
“Yep, one time would have been even better.” Avery stuffed the books away.
“I don’t mean to b
e rude,” Delaney said, “but how would you know? You’ve only slept with one man your entire life. And you hardly got a chance to even sleep with him. So if it was good with this other guy, there’s no reason to limit it to one night or one time or whatever you want to call it. You can keep it simple and keep seeing him without letting things get complicated.”
Nope. Too late for that. Her feelings for Trace had been complicated from day one.
“And why won’t you tell me who it is?” Delaney added with a little pout.
“Because I don’t want to talk about it.”
Delaney narrowed her eyes and sat back, crossing her arms. “I know him, don’t I?”
“You know everyone.” She pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “And, frankly, it’s none of your business.”
“Ouch.” Delaney feigned hurt for all of two seconds before her eyes sparked. “Is it one of Ethan’s friends? Is that why you don’t want to tell me?”
“No. Delaney, just—”
“Oh, it’s someone I wouldn’t like, isn’t it? Or someone Phoebe wouldn’t like. That makes total sense. You always hated rocking the boat. You don’t want to upset anyone. Well, now you have to tell me.” She grinned. “Come on, Avery, I’m not going to give you shit—too much. And I won’t tell Phoebe—right away.”
Avery laughed as she stood. “I’m headed to Phoebe’s to work. Please don’t bring this up. I may not have wanted to rock the boat when I was a kid, but if you tell Phoebe, I’ll find a way to sink the damn boat and make it all your fault.”
Avery pulled open the office door and walked toward the exterior door through the shell and all the activity with a profound sense of relief.
Bullet dodged.
Until she heard Delaney following her, muttering, “When in the hell would you have time to meet—” Her sister’s gasp ripped through Avery like ice. “No. No, no, no.”
Delaney’s quickening footsteps made dread curl in Avery’s gut.
Her sister cut in front of Avery just before she reached the door and put a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were serious when she said, “Tell me it’s not Trace.”
Avery huffed an exhausted breath, tilted her head, and pretended fire and ice weren’t battling for control in her gut. “Unless you want to be the one up until midnight making my highly requested strawberry balsamic caramels, please get out of the way.”
“Just tell me it’s not Trace, and I’ll let it go.”
Avery couldn’t lie. She could skirt issues, she could distract, she could avoid, but she couldn’t lie. And Delaney knew it. But at this point, Avery didn’t even want to lie. She was physically exhausted from the night, emotionally exhausted from struggling over her feelings for Trace, mentally exhausted from trying to run a business that barely even existed while that business was bleeding her dry—financially, emotionally, and physically.
But she was no longer the little girl who would scurry away and try to hide either. And as much as she still loved to please, that desire didn’t own her. So she just sighed and held Delaney’s gaze silently.
Delaney’s pretty face tightened with frustration. She grabbed both Avery’s arms and shook her a little. “Avery. No. You can’t afford to get involved with someone you work with. Especially not Trace.”
Turbulence kicked up in her gut. “If you were listening to me, you would have heard me say we’re not involved. We agreed to one night. Which is over.” A fact that still left Avery unsettled. Especially after that look in his eyes this morning. Especially with his words still replaying over in Avery’s head. “Yeah, well, I know that was the plan, but last night—”
“And I know you’ve had bad experiences with men and work in the past,” Avery went on, “but that doesn’t mean everyone does. I’m also a very grown adult who’s made her own decisions for the last eight years. Very grown-up decisions. They may not have all been perfect, but I’m extremely capable, so please don’t treat me like the little girl you left all those years ago.”
This time, the hurt darkening Delaney’s eyes was real, and Avery immediately realized she’d used the wrong words.
“Damn, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant I may still be your little sister, but I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You’re right.” Delaney nodded, but her teasing humor had evaporated, replaced by true concern. “I just want this business to work for you. You’ve put everything you have into it. It’s your dream, and I don’t want anything to jeopardize that. Trace . . .” Delaney closed her eyes and sighed. “He’s a good guy. A great guy. I would never have hired him if he weren’t. But he’s got a lot of scars, and people with scars do unpredictable things. He’s also got a lot on his plate trying to manage the café and his dad. He’s the key to getting that café built on time and within budget. You’re both balancing very precariously on high wires right now. If a gust of wind came from the wrong direction . . .”
Avery’s dream could fall to its death. “It’s not going to go bad because he and I had a clear understanding before anything happened, because we both want the same thing, and because we’re both adults.”
Delaney took another breath and studied her sister. Avery waited, knowing Delaney hadn’t said everything she needed to say. “You know he’s a player.”
Avery’s stomach tightened. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”
“You know he was screwed over by his fiancée, and he’s not a guy who’s going to trust enough to settle down.”
No, she hadn’t known anything about a fiancée, but she said, “Hello, same. Trace doesn’t have any scars on me.”
“Yeah, he does.” With sadness in her eyes, Delaney lifted her brows. “Prison?”
“He made a mistake a decade ago—so did I. He’s been paying for it ever since—so have I. We may have lived in different kinds of prisons, but I’ve been there, too. And in my opinion, scars only make people work not to screw up their lives again so they can get to where they want to be.”
Resignation settled into her sister’s eyes. “Okay.” She nodded. “You’ve got your head on straight.” Delaney’s lips twisted, and she gave Avery a sassy smirk. “So? Does he live up to the rumors?”
Avery’s neck and cheeks flushed with heat, and she couldn’t hold back the smile that filled her face. “Surpasses every one.”
Delaney burst out laughing, and Avery laughed with her. Her sister reached out and stroked her hair. “You deserve some good after what you’ve been through. Just . . . be careful.”
“Let me go get some work done so this business doesn’t fall flat on its face.”
Avery pulled the door open, eager to escape the awkwardness of telling her big sister she’d had a one-night stand with her contractor. A lot of women Avery’s age slept around, but this was all new to her, and she was feeling seventeen again in a lot of ways. Only this seventeen do-over was way better the second time around.
“Hey,” Delaney said. “Have you heard from Chloe?”
Their youngest sister and the true nomad of the family only touched base when she needed money. “She’s not calling me back, probably because she knows the café has bled me dry. You might want to have Phoebe try.”
Delaney nodded.
On the way to the Jeep, Avery blew her sister a kiss and climbed into the SUV. But she didn’t bother to snap on her seat belt for the quick ride around the block to her next stop: Finley’s Market.
She parked in the small lot and pulled the color-coded plastic totes out of the back and stacked them, feeling lighter now that she’d gotten that little secret off her shoulders. And it also felt so good to have a sister who cared so much about her—financially and emotionally—that she was supporting her in every way.
Avery thought of Chloe again. Maybe she’d call and offer Chloe a job at the café. It would be so nice to have all of them together.
With a spark of hope for her day, she crouched to gather the totes.
“Ms. Hart.” The voice was male and smooth and attractive, but it didn’t
give her the warm fuzzies.
She released the handles on the totes and glanced toward the man, squinting against the bright morning sun. A cop strolled toward her in a familiar navy uniform. Her mind jumped to Zane, Trace’s brother, but he would never call her Ms. Hart, and his voice was warm and happy. Then the man’s head cut into the path of the sunlight and his face came into view, and everything made sense.
“Austin.” That was as much of a greeting as this asshole was going to get. He may have been Ethan’s brother, but he wasn’t even in the same gene pool as far as the Hart family was concerned.
She picked up her totes and started inside. Austin stepped into her path and grinned. “I think you meant Deputy Hayes.”
Her instincts clicked on, and her walls went up.
She frowned at him over the top of a tote and pretended to think a moment. “You know, I can still remember the first time I saw you. It was in the first grade. All the other boys were out on the yard playing ball, and you were sitting on the benches all alone picking your nose and eating the snot.” When the shock registered, and his grin tightened, she said, “So, no, I didn’t mean Deputy Hayes. Somehow with that image in my mind, you will forever be Austin to me. Now you have a great day.”
She sidestepped him, making a quick path into the market.
“Avery,” he called after her.
“Hey, Rita.” She ignored Austin and greeted the middle-aged cashier, hurrying through the swinging door leading behind the counter. “I’ve got more goodies for you.”
Austin’s boots sounded on the old hardwood of the historical building a few seconds later, stopping near the counter.
“Avery.” His tone had gone from solicitous condescension to you’d-better-obey-me-right-now. “I need to speak with you.”
Pretend, pretend, pretend. Avery had gotten so good at pretend, sometimes she pretended herself right out of reality. But here, pretend would come in handy. Here, she had to pretend to be that “Army Strong” that Trace saw in her.
“Sorry, Austin, I’m running behind schedule. No time to chat.”
