“I was not spiraling,” I protested, then promptly proved him right by diving back in for another kiss, deeper this time, with the kind of desperate hunger that came from weeks of careful restraint finally cracking open.
Evan's hands found my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us, until I could feel the heat radiating through his shirt and the careful strength in the way he held me. Like I was something precious and breakable, even though we both knew I was tougher than I looked.
“We should probably—” he started, but I cut him off by threading my fingers through his hair and kissing him like the world was ending and this was the only thing that mattered.
Because maybe it was. Maybe this moment, surrounded by the smell of sawdust and the sound of wind through the rafters, was exactly what I'd been looking for without knowing it.
That's when the office door slammed open with the subtlety of a sonic boom.
“Evan, I need those invoices for—oh, for fuck's sake.”
Daniel stood in the doorway, arms crossed and wearing the expression of a man who'd just walked in on something he really didn't want to see. Which, considering his son was currently pressed up against me like we were trying to merge into one person, was probably accurate.
We sprang apart like we'd been electrocuted, Evan's face going red enough to power the mill's lighting while I tried to remember how to breathe like a normal human being.
“Dad,” Evan managed, voice cracking slightly on the single syllable. “We were just?—”
“Working on inventory,” Daniel said dryly. “I can see that. Very thorough approach to counting lumber.”
“It's not what it looks like,” I said, which was possibly the stupidest thing I could have said considering it was exactly what it looked like.
“Really? Because it looks like my son was about two seconds away from defiling my place of business.” Daniel's tone was perfectly deadpan, but I caught the hint of amusement lurking behind his Alpha authority. “Should I be concerned about the structural integrity of my workbenches?”
“Dad,” Evan groaned, looking like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
“Right. Well.” Daniel cleared his throat with the air of someone determined to pretend this hadn't happened. “Invoices are on my desk. Try to finish them before dinner, and maybe save the romantic interludes for somewhere that doesn't smell like industrial lubricant.”
He disappeared back into his office, leaving us standing there in mortified silence while the echo of his laughter drifted through the thin walls.
“That was...” I started.
“Humiliating,” Evan finished, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Absolutely humiliating.”
“Your dad seems to be taking it well, though.”
“He's probably going to give me the safe sex talk again. At dinner. In front of your parents.”
The thought made me laugh despite my lingering embarrassment. “Hey, at least we know he approves.”
“Small mercies,” Evan muttered, but he was almost-smiling when he said it.
“So, dinner at six?”
“Wouldn't miss it. Just... maybe we should work on our timing.”
“Definitely,” I agreed, then grinned at him. “But for what it's worth, I really like your approach to inventory management.”
The laugh that escaped him was bright and free and exactly the kind of sound I wanted to spend the rest of my life trying to earn.
Even if it meant occasionally getting caught by his father in compromising positions.
Some things, apparently, were worth the embarrassment.
The grocery listcrinkled in my pocket as I walked down the back road toward town, Mom's careful handwriting listing things we needed for tonight's dinner: flour, fresh herbs, the good olive oil from the market that cost twice as much as the regular stuff but made everything taste like it belonged in a magazine.
I'd volunteered to handle the shopping run, partly because Mom was busy cleaning the house like the health inspector was coming for dinner, but mostly because I needed some air. The morning at the lumber mill had left me feeling pleasantly worn out, muscles I'd forgotten I had reminding me that I wasdefinitely more suited to holding cameras than hefting two-by-fours.
Plus, there was something satisfying about having concrete plans. Evan was coming to dinner tonight—the first official family meal since I'd learned that my boyfriend could bench press a truck when the mood struck him. The thought made me grin despite the October chill that nipped at my cheeks.
