My dad used to say I could entertain myself with a rock and a piece of string, and he wasn’t wrong. We hadn’t had money for fancy toys, but I’d never felt like I was missing anything.
The familiar ache settled in my chest, the one that showed up whenever I let myself think about him.
He’d been gone for three years now, and it still caught me off guard sometimes. He’d passed right before Michelle left, and fora while there I’d felt like the whole foundation of my life had crumbled out from under me.
But I knew the truth.
Michelle had left me because right when I’d needed someone the most in my life, I’d done everything I could to shut her out. I hadn’t wanted her comfort or her soft, soothing ways. I’d needed to feel the dagger of pain deep in my heart.
Some people in town thought Michelle had been evil, dumping me two months after my daddy died.
But I knew the truth. She’d held on to me as long as she could… long after I’d done everything to shut her out.
I blinked hard against the sudden sting in my eyes and made a mental note to call my mom today. She was the only person who could understand the pain I was going through, because she lived it every day herself.
Right as I was thinking that an alarm sounded. It was a loud, robotic sound that would wake the dead. After a few seconds of that, it morphed into the first few riffs of Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish.
It figured she’d listen to a song like that. I’d been subjected to it by Mrs. Andretti’s great-niece. In fact, I’d had to listen to the whole album on repeat while I did the repair work on their roof. I could practically sing every lyric from memory, even if it was totally against my will.
Rachel stirred against me, and I felt the exact moment she woke up. Her whole body went rigid, every muscle tensing as she registered our position.
Neither of us moved.
Then, slowly, she shifted away from me and turned off her phone alarm.
I let my arm fall back to my side even though every nerve ending I had was protesting the loss of contact. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, and I did the same, leaving acareful six inches of charged air between us, my cock trembling with barely contained hunger.
“Morning,” I said, my voice rougher than I’d intended.
“Morning,” her response was barely a whisper.
We lay there for another moment, neither of us acknowledging what had happened during the night, and then she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
As I made us breakfast, she took a quick shower.
When she emerged her hair was austerely pulled back in its sleek bun again, nary a stray a-wandering.
Any soft girlishness I’d perceived in the middle of the night was gone. In front of me was a competent, serious woman dressed in a power suit, ready to go out and destroy the lives of my neighbors.
I cracked eggs into a pan and tried to focus on cooking instead of the way her pants clung to her curves. “What’s your plan for today?” I asked while I eyed her heels suspiciously. She’d break an ankle if she tried to wear those things out in the field today.
“I’ve got a stack of claims to investigate.” She was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching me work. “There are several properties on the east side of town, then a few more up toward Miller’s Ridge.”
“Is Mrs. Andretti on that list?”
Her eyebrows rose, surprise coloring her features. “No,” she said slowly, “but I have an Andretti scheduled for tomorrow. How did you know that?”
“I’m her contractor.” I kept my eyes on the eggs, but I could feel her gaze sharpening. “I’d like to be there during the inspection.”
The silence that followed was heavy with implications. I glanced over and saw the realization dawning on her face, the understanding that we weren’t just two strangers sharing a house anymore. We were on opposite sides of something that could get complicated fast.
“Oh. I didn’t realize.” She cleared her throat, the gears turning visibly behind her eyes. “That’s… fine,” she said finally. “You can be there. It’s your legal right.”
“You’re damn right it is.” I’d sat in on many insurance claims investigations before, steering the crooked adjusters off their course of underpayment.
Insurance adjusters like Rachel robbed from the poor to line their wealthy corporate employers’ pockets. It was despicable.
I scooped the eggs onto two plates and put them down at the kitchen table. “Sit. Eat.”
