Because, yes, I certainly want him. I think I’ve made that more than obvious.
Heat simmers between us as a result has me crossing my legs to keep myself in place.
Eating lunch becomes playful; he watches my mouth, and I trace the line of his body with my gaze—those wide shoulders, how his shirt clings to his biceps muscled from years of hard work, the small V at his throat that shows a peek of his chest hair…
But mostly, I recognize the desire in his eyes. If we weren’t at work, I’d have my hands all over him again.
The door to the barn swings open with a gust of cold air, and Adam stands in the space it occupied a moment ago. His usual mirth is hidden by his authoritative stance.
Greyson’s eyes widen, looking at me, then Adam, and back to me with a smirk.
He stabs another bite of meatloaf, chewing slowly, giddy from the obvious tension.
We’re about to give him a show apparently.
15
ADAM
I finally find Drew hidden in one of the work buildings with Greyson, eating lunch.
The door creaks as I open it, and the smell of sawdust and paint hits me, grounding me in the moment.
Despite that they’re looking at each other like I’ve stepped into something charged with intent, I close the door behind me.
The quiet between them feels thick, almost like I’ve interrupted a secret. My pulse kicks up, warning me this isn’t just a casual lunch break.
The way her shoulders stiffen and she looks pointedly at her food to take another bite nails my suspicions.
She doesn’t even flick her eyes toward me, and that tells me more than any words could. Drew always meets my gaze—unless she’s hiding something.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Greyson’s brow jump with amusement and knowing, the kind of knowing that says he’s seen this dance before. She runs when she feels rejected. Stuffs everything down into her drive and defiance.
I can see it in the way she shrugs at me.
“What if I am?” Her voice isn’t harsh, but it’s not soft either. Flippant. Devoid of the emotion I know is simmering just under the surface.
There’s a tremor under the coolness, like a storm warning. She might sound nonchalant, but her fingers are white-knuckling the edge of the container.
Will it explode if I poke at it?
Fire burns through my chest. If she thinks I won’t hash shit out in front of Greyson, she’s got another thing coming.
“Because I leaned you over my knee and spanked you, or because I wouldn’t touch you after?”
Red infuses her cheeks, and electricity snaps in her eyes as they narrow at me. She’s caught between fury and something else she won’t name—desire, shame, maybe both. It flickers across her face so quickly, but I catch it.
Yes, princess, if you didn’t want your dirty laundry aired in front of an audience, you should have come to me to address this. But no, you made me chase you, and now you have to deal with those consequences.
Greyson laughs softly, and she narrows a stony look at him, too. He holds his hands up, sealing up his lunch. “As much as I would enjoy the show, I’m going to head to the Lodge for a fresh cup of coffee.”
Drew huffs but watches him go in silence like he’s a traitor for abandoning her to me.
Her eyes track him to the door and stay there, like maybe she’s hoping he’ll change his mind and come back. No such luck.
Her fingers curl around her fork like she’s bracing herself for impact.
