Kelly is coming back to work in just a handful of weeks.
This is all borrowed.
Temporary.
Just like the cabin.
Just like last night.
Shit. This is why I shouldn’t have slept with him.
Now I’m building castles out of clouds—barefoot and blushing—and I have no one to blame but myself.
Was it just a one-time thing for him?
A moment of weakness with the help?
God, that thought makes me want to curl into a ball.
I bite my lip, suddenly unsure of everything.
Do I ask him? What if it’s nothing?
What if I just made things awkward between us?
What if he regrets it and now I’ve ruined the best job I’ve ever had?
I press my hands to my cheeks and try to breathe.
The phone rings.
Thank God.
“Hello? McCrae Lumber & Sawmill,” I answer, remembering my line.
“Hey, it’s me,” Kelly’s voice comes through the receiver, a little raspy but warm. Familiar. Comforting. “Just checking in.”
“Hi! How are you feeling?”
“Good! I mean, sore. Tired. Surgery sucks,” she laughs softly. “But they said I can go home tomorrow.”
“That’s great!” I exhale.
“It is really great. Is Thatch there?”
“No, he’s out checking on the generator install.”
“Oh, that’s right, I heard about that. Are you okay, honey? Look, the office doesn’t have a bed, but if you want I can send Mike once the roads are clear to get you and?—”
“Oh,” I reply, wondering what the heck to say to her, “That’s okay! I mean, I’m fine.”
I hesitate. The words form like knots in my throat.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. I’m totally fine,” I lie.
And itisa lie because Thatcher and I didn’t talk about last night.
