“I want coffee,” Bridger says, making a break for the door. “Let’s go harass Millie.”
“Good plan,” Beck agrees, and Blake follows them.
“Why are you pissed?” Brooks asks after they’re gone.
“Because this ismybusiness,” I reply and squeeze his fingers. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your help, but I should have been here to make the decisions.”
“It’s literally just pulling out a destroyed floor. I didn’t make any other decisions for you.”
“Okay. If this were the garage, and I told you to go to sleep while I went to your building and started giving orders on how to clean it up, you’d be cool with that?”
“You’re pretty good at giving orders, so probably.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and his shoulders droop.
“I get it. I didn’t mean to piss you off. I was trying to take this off your plate.”
“And I really do appreciate it. Because I admit, this is so fucking overwhelming, and I like having you here to help me figure it out, but I should be here with you. Your brothers came.”
He frowns. “Of course, they did. I asked them to.”
His family is so fucking amazing.Brooks hit the jackpot when he was born a Blackwell.
“So what’s your plan?”
He lets out a breath and looks around the room. “Right now, it was to finish emptying out the rest of the flooring, and then see what you want to do from there.”
“That’s the right answer.”
He lowers his mask, and his lips twitch, and then he lowers them to mine, but doesn’t kiss me. He hovers just an inch away.
“Were you really mad at me, Wildfire?”
“Maybe not.” I boost up on my toes and close the distance between us, and he lets out a low groan as the kiss intensifies, our bodies pressed together. I plunge my fingers in his thick, dark hair, and he covers my ass with his big hands.
He’s sweaty, but I don’t care.
I’d happily stay here, just like this, all freaking day.
But then he pulls back and brushes my hair behind my ear.
“We just finally got to a place where we’re not both angry with each other. Let’s try to stay there,” he says softly.
“I like that idea.”
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the doorframe, and when I turn, I find Connor Gallagher walking into my building. He’s in jeansand a long-sleeved black T-shirt, the sleeves pulled up on his forearms. He walks over to us, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Hi, Jules,” he says, shaking my hand. I’ve met Billie’s husband several times, and he’s always been nothing but kind to me. His Irish accent is also incredibly swoony. “I’m sorry about this mess.”
“Yeah, me too. Unfortunately, I can’t make your wrap for you today.”
Whenever Connor stops by to see his wife at her bookshop, he always swings in here for lunch.
His lips tip up in a half smile. “I figured. Actually, I was here earlier before you got here. I have a team ready to come in and clean out the rest of the damage, and then start repairing everything right away.”
I stare at him in shock. “What?”
“If you’d like it to look exactly the same as before, they can do that, or they can switch up anything that you’d like.”
