Page 50 of When the Smoke Clears

“Stop.” She giggles.

I return my safety glasses to the top drawer of my workbench, grumbling because her exercise equipment is everywhere. As soon as I turn, she’s right in front of me, invading my personal space.

“You make me sound like a mold infestation,” she says.

“Speaking of mold. If you don’t use the exhaust fan when you take a hundred-and-ten-degree shower, I’ll have mildew on the bathroom ceiling.”

“I had to shut off the fan to listen for you before I ran into your bathroom to borrow your razor. And then you flustered me, so I forgot to turn the fan back on.”

“Sorry. Being flustered isn’t a good excuse.” I step past her and then bend down to brush the grass off my boots.

“Did you call your dad back?”

“Fuck,” I mumble.

As soon as I stand straight, she’s back in my space, lips slightly pursed into a smirk I don’t trust. “Let me guess, you were too flustered to remember?”

“Isn’t it time for your nap?” I squint.

“Nappuccino. And no. Not until after lunch. Speaking of lunch. Maren and Jamie asked me to brunch tomorrow morning. Did you hire them to do your dirty work?”

Really. She’s way too close to me.

I take a step back and cross my arms to keep a barrier between us. “I don’t need to hire anyone to do my dirty work. I already told you this arrangement isn’t going to work. Maybe they feel sorry for you and want to help you in the interim until your barn is complete.”

“So you don’t want me to say anything about our sexual tension?”

“There’s no sexual tension.”

“You cockblocked me last night. Then you watched me shower this morning.”

“Pfft.” I jerk my head back before shaking it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Everleigh takes a step forward. “If they offer me an alternate place to live, I’ll consider it, but not before calling your bluff.”

“What bluff?”

“The one where you pretend to hate me for what happened eleven years ago. Then there’s the one where you pretend you’re not attracted to me. I love mind games. I’ve made a living playing them. So even when I call your bluff, we can continue to let your friends think we’re enemies. I love a good affair, like Jamie and Calvin. Sneaking around. The thrill of almost getting caught.” She waggles her eyebrows.

“I think you’re mentally unstable. Is that an asset when treating patients? Like you can literally put yourself in their shoes.”

“Will, you’re not using literally in the most literal way because you don’t mean that I’m going to wear anyone’s sneakers.”

“You’re such a liar. All that talk about not calling someone out for saying the wrong thing or wrong word because it’s embarrassing. Yet, here you are doing just that.”

“I don’t think you’re embarrassed that I’m fine-tuning your grammar. I think you’re embarrassed that I caught you looking at me in the shower this morning.”

I scoff. “The way I caught you looking at me in the shower eleven years ago? And I wasn’t checking you out. I was looking at your implants.”

She snorts. “My breasts?”

“Let me guess. Your implants are in your breasts, so the literal term is breasts since I can’t actually see the implants? Is that what you were going to say?”

“No.” She purses her lips and shakes her head. “I was going to say I’m surprised you were focused on my breasts after being so curious about Wilbur.”

Shit. I forgot to look for that pig tattoo.

“What do you think of them?” She glances down at her chest. “I think they’re the perfect size. Perky with just the right amount of bounce. But now everyone is getting their implants removed because they’re making them sick. So don’t get too attached to them. I might not have them forever.” She looks up at me and shrugs like we’re talking about her keeping her car or selling it.