I massage my calf absent-mindlessly as he reverses out of the driveway. My feet are sore and tired after standing on them all day. I don’t know how he manages to do this daily.
“You doing alright there?” he asks, eyes glancing at my hand. He can clearly see I’m in pain.
“Oh, justpeachy,” I mumble.
“Looks like the day tired you out.” He smirks, making his way back home.
I look over at him, looking cocky as ever. Choosing to play dirty, I quickly tug on the back of my sweater's collar, pulling it up and over my head.
I breathe in, feeling the cool, crisp air hit my chest. I stretch out my arms, feeling free from the restraints of the heavy sweatshirt.
Looking over, I see Brad’s nervous glance looking back and forth from me to the road, his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel, yet again.
“Nothing I can’t handle.Youokay though?” I ask, the corner of my mouth quirking up.
“Just peachy,” he mutters, shifting in his seat like his pants are suddenly too tight.
24
Brad
Noah’s a quick learner.
The past week, he’s really found his stride. Picking up on the odd tasks we haven’t had the time to do, he’s actually helped us move a lot faster. I’m not exactly sure if he actually enjoys the job, but it’s not like he’d tell me if he didn’t.
As much as I hate to admit it, having him around isn’t so bad. For work? He’s been a godsend. For my heart that dies a little inside every time I can’t touch, kiss, or have my way with him? It’s fucking torturous.
Eight-hour days with the guy who once blew my mind in a tent might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And it’s not like he’s making it easy.
He flirts. Smiles. Winks.
He’s doing everything he can to make this harder on me. And fuck, has it been hard.
My nightly showers have become record-breaking. Knowing he’s right down the hall turns solo time into a damn sprint.
He really hasn’t changed. And that both thrills and scares the hell out of me. Just like it always has when it comes to him.
It’s Saturday morning. Our first real day off. Veronica, being Veronica, is off running errands, which leaves me with some quality time with Paislee. Which I happen to love.
Only this time, it also means Noah will be home. Just me, Paislee… andhim.
I’ve gotten a handle on crying babies, year-long dry ruts, and back-to-back sixteen-hour shifts. But one morning alone with Noah? This might actually break me.
I finish changing Paislee’s diaper and slip her into a cute little flowery jumper when Noah knocks on her bedroom door. My heart speeds up instantly.
“What’s up?” I ask, refusing to turn around. If I can maintain a professional tone and keep my comments platonic, I may stand a chance.
“Whatcha doing?” Noah asks.
“Just finished changing and now we’re going to play downstairs. Maybe go for a walk outside,” I say, picking her up from her changing table.
“Cool. Can I come?” Noah asks cheerfully, stepping into the room.
I stiffen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Paislee reaches over my shoulder, giggling, reaching out for him. Noah steps closer, and now I can feel his heat beside me.
I swallow thickly, trying not to soak in his scent. But it’s no use—I have to breathe.
He smells so damn good, and it hits me hard. The memories flood my mind all at once. Sunlight. Fresh air. Heat.
