“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says, smiling.
“You would,” I tease, and we both laugh.
“I’ll see you around?”he asks.
I swallow, because I’m suddenly nervous that he’s leaving.I wanted more thansee you around.I don’t know what, because I don’t really understand what we are to each other.
I don’t have a map forthisrelationship.But this kind of casuallater, dude, isn’t quite it.
Old friends,I remind myself.
“Yeah,” I say, ignoring the sudden butterflies in my stomach.“You’re just next door.”
His gaze flicks from my eyes to my lips and back, so fast I nearly miss it.
Kiss me, my subconscious whispers, and I hold my breath in sudden alarm.
DO NOT KISS ME, I think.I definitely don’t want that, not even a little.
Then he nods once, still smiling, and turns around.I don’t exhale until he’s walking away.
ChapterFour
Hunter
“Sleep well, Casden?”Porter barks.
I’m still standing in the doorway of the kitchen, wearing nothing but boxers, still half-asleep.Normally I’m not this groggy, but I got ten hours of sleep in a real bed last night, and my body’s not used to it.
“I slept fine,” I say, already feeling defensive.As out of it as I am, I can just fuckingtellhe’s spoiling for a fight.
“Good,” he says, and shovels a spoonful of cereal and milk into his mouth.“You’ve got a door to fix down at the Methodist church.”
I clench my jaw and open the fridge too forcefully, getting out the milk.I don’t respond to Porter just yet, because if being in the Marines taught me one thing, it was how to fucking bite my tongue when I needed to.
“You hear me?”he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, pouring myself a cup of coffee and adding the milk.Coffee’s a rare luxury for me during the summers — anything not strictly necessary doesn’t usually make it into a fire camp — and Ryan goddamn Porter is ruining it.
It’s not even that he wants me to fix the door.ObviouslyI need to fix the door that I kicked in.It’s the asshole way he says it, like I’m a child who needs to be kept in line.I like my job, but I’m not sure how much longer I can deal with having him as a boss, because sooner or later, I’m going to stop being able to keep my mouth shut.
“You gonna fix that door?”he goes on.
I take a long, long gulp of coffee and look out the kitchen window, forcing myself not to say anything until I’m good and ready.
It takes a little while.
“I’m heading over there right after breakfast,” I finally say, the words clipped and brusque, not that I give a shit whether Porter knows I’m annoyed.
“Good,” he says, scooping another spoon into his mouth.“Try not to kick in any more doors to get to the pussy behind it, all right, Casanova?”
I put my coffee mug down too hard and it slams onto the counter, the coffee sloshing out and over my hand.My anger flares, hot and bright, at someone calling Clementinethe pussy.
“I thought she was choking,” I say, my voice tight and short.“I misread the situation.I made the wrong call.I’ll fix it.”
Porter just levels his gaze at me, chewing his cereal.
“Casden, don’t go thinking I don’t know what motivates you,” he says mildly.“I don’t care who or what you stick your dick in as long as it doesn’t reflect poorly on Canyon Country.And broken doors reflect pretty goddamn poorly.”
