Page 50 of Final Proposal

I draw in a ragged breath. Lips part, but words aren’t voiced as the tension practically snaps between us.

Does she have any clue how bad I fucking want her? Since that first night stranded here. Since seeing her again at the auction. Every minute of every goddamn day I think about her in some way, shape, or form . . . and the notion of her tongue on my chest isn’t helping matters any.

“Oops,” she finally says, her smile widening but her eyes steadfast on mine.

“Don’t worry about it,” I murmur as I consciously try to remove my fingers from her wrist and take a step back. “Next time I know to go to your left.” She nods, her eyes looking at my chest and then back to my eyes. “And now you really need another one since I just ruined that one.”

“Yes. Sure. Okay.” Her words come out in a stilted staccato.

I need to get out of here before I do something I’m going to regret. Like pin her up against the wall and kiss her until that ice cream bar is a melted puddle on the floor.

I take another step back, the smile on my lips strained. “I’m going to go. Take my run.”

She nods and runs her tongue over her thumb where ice cream has dripped. I grit my teeth. “I’m going to get another ice cream.”

“Save one for me, will you?”

She takes a bite of the mess that’s left of her bar, her lips closing around the chocolate innocently as I wipe the ice cream off with the shirt in my hand, but my imagination has already been fired. “So you’re one of those.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound like a positive statement.”

“Most people don’t go for a run and then eat ice cream.” Her eyes scrape down my torso. “Do abs just appear out of nowhere as you sleep too? There’s an ab. Oops, and another one. I mean, how do you ever get any sleep with all these abs forming left and right?”

I throw my head back and laugh, grateful for the levity to interrupt my thoughts. “It’s a hard job—”

“But somebody’s got to do it,” she murmurs.

I give her one last look before turning and pushing open the door.

Run.

Distance.

I need to keep my distance from her and from fucking things up.

And if taking a run every minute of every damn night while I’m here will help achieve that, then I guess I’m going to be the fittest damn guy on the planet. With self-growing abs apparently. Can’t say I mind that she noticed.

Seems fair given I stare at her hot-as-sin body every chance that I get. Squishy curves, my ass.

Ellery

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“I wish I were, Ms. Sinclair—”

“Ellery.” I correct our demolition crew foreman for what feels like the hundredth time. If there is one thing I know about being a woman in construction, it’s don’t let anyone call you Miss or Ms. or ma’am. And sure as hell, not sweetie or honey. Any chance you give a man to reassert that you’re a woman is a chance for you to be handled with kid gloves when all you want is to be treated like just one of the guys.

“Ellery,” he says as I nod. “I wish I were.”

I roll my shoulders and stare at him while feeling like my head is going to explode. “So let me get this straight. Your crew all came down with the stomach flu at the same time?”

He nods but doesn’t meet my eyes. The question is why? “Yes, ma’am.”

“And you have no other crew you can replace them with?”

His sigh is heavy. “I don’t. No. You knew we were doing you a favor and traveling outside of our normal coverage area. They were all staying together in the hotel in town. The bug cycled through them.”

“Well, fuck.”