“What time will Mr. Montague get here?” Seems Kiki is as desperate as I am to steer us to neutral ground.
“No idea if I’m being honest.” I shrug. “Hopefully soon. He said he doesn’t want to start anything until he signs off. Apparently he’s got very specific ideas about the house.”
Kiki grins. “Don’t they always? The richer they are, the more eccentric they are.”
I laugh, the first real one I’ve managed this morning. “Isn’t that the truth? Time to grab some grub before the big man arrives.”
I rarely eat breakfast on my days off, but when I’m working, I eat my weight in calories. Today is no exception. I settle against the edge of an old table, presumably left by the former owners, and pull a bacon and egg sandwich from my bag. “Did you eat?”
She shakes her head. “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
My gaze sweeps over her lithe frame. She’s thinner again, like when we first started hanging out.
Once again, concern rears its ugly head, which makes no damn sense.
She broke up with me. The fact that she’s unhappy now is not my issue, right?
Wrong. That’s the trouble with loving someone. It doesn’t matter if they deserve your love. You give it anyway. Love makes fools of us all, and with Kiki, I’m no exception.
I hold out half of my sandwich. “Come on. Eat it.”
She makes no move to take it. “I’ll probably end up wearing it. You know how much of a mess I make when I eat.”
“You’ll be fine.” I tip the sandwich toward her. “You have to eat, Kiki. It’s going to be a long day.”
“Maybe just a few bites. My stomach is a tangle of nerves, anyway.”
Mike lifts his breakfast in offering from his perch across the room. “You can take a couple of bites of mine, Kiki.”
“Shut it down over there,” I bark, shooting him a look that says, in no uncertain terms, to knock it the hell off.
“Hey, I’m just trying to be helpful,” Mike replies with an easy shrug. “Make Kiki feel welcome. I’m Mike, by the way.”
Kiki presses a hand to her chest and offers him a small smile. “I appreciate that, Mike. Thank you.”
And just like that, my jealousy careens into the red.
Here’s the thing—Mike knows Kiki and I dated, but he’snot shooting his shot. He’s trying to lighten the mood because he knows I’m a fucking disaster right now. No matter what I tell him, the man has known me too long not to see through my bullshit.
Doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to have a talk with my guys later. Make it real clear Kiki is off-limits.
Look, I don’t know if she’s dating or screwing anyone in her free time, and that’s not my business. But my guys need to stay away from her, because I don’t feel like having daily knockdown, drag-out brawls in the middle of this job site.
Will I?
When it comes to Kiki?
Better believe I will.
“Do you want the sandwich or not?” I snap... then push it closer.
Her gaze cuts to me, her deep brown eyes wide. “Please. You make the best egg sandwiches… and pancakes.”
Why is she doing this to me? Dragging me down memory lane?
Randy, one of my newer crew members, waves at me from the doorway before pointing toward the main entrance. “A caravan of vehicles just arrived.”
Showtime. I ball up the rest of my sandwich and down the final dregs of coffee before popping a mint. “Okay, guys, let’s show Mr. Montague what we’re made of, yeah? You’re all amazing, and we are going to deliver the best damn restoration Sparkwood has ever seen. You ready?”
