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Only the hottest sex ever, buddy. No big deal.
But I can’t stay pissed at him forever.
“No. Just painting cupboard doors in the barn,” I half lie, walking the last few feet to meet him and give a handshake that nearly tears his arm off.
“Damn, man. Must be some paint job,” he grins, shaking out his arm. “The extra cameras I ordered for you came in. The winter fried a few of the sensors on the ones I gave Ridge, but these are brand new and should do the trick.”
I’d almost forgotten. Since Tory’s here now and the Pickett situation uncertain, I figured I’d have him put a few up around the property so I’ll know if anyone comes prowling around.
“When can you put them up?”
“Now? Might as well, if you’re not tied down. This camera shit is almost turning into a running gag for too many dudes in Dallas,” he says, his blue eyes sparking. “Guess you’re gonna get married off next, seeing what happened to me and Ridge.”
“Whatever,” I growl, silently rattling off a few curses. “Sounds good, I guess. Where do we start?”
“If you’re busy, I can do—”
I slap a hand on his shoulder.
“Nah, I’ll help. We were just finishing up the painting, anyway.” Honestly, cooling off a little after what almost just happened in the barn right now would be a good thing, even if my dick objects fiercely.
“Okay. It’s all in my truck. Let me grab the gear,” he says.
We discuss where to put them while opening the boxes, and then get to work. Tory brings us sandwiches and iced tea later. I don’t want to worry her, so I tell her it’s just the security system I’d ordered, which is half true. Some of this is stuff I’ll pay him for and leave up for the new owner if I decide to sell.
After she’s carried our empty plates and glasses back into the house, Drake eyes me slyly. “So, it must be going good between you two, yeah? She’s moved in.”
“It’s fine. We’ve been friends for years,” I tell him, keeping my voice even to head off the shit he no doubt wants to serve me.
“Friends,” he echoes dryly, raking back his dark-blond hair.
“Friends. That a problem, Officer?” I grunt back sarcastically.
He looks at me and grins. “I’m gonna have to give you a citation for excessive bullshit, yeah. C’mon, man, who do you think you’re talking to? An old married guy like me knows when a man and a woman are more than friends.”
“You haven’t been married that long,” I tell him.
“And I’m not that old.” He laughs. “I’m happy for you, man. She’s hot. Nothing like my Bella, of course, but no woman ever is.”
“Just keep those eyes to yourself,” I warn him.
He chuckles harder. “There’s nothing like it, Faulk. You ought to get over yourself and try.”
“Try what?”
“Being married to your best friend. The woman you want to grow old with.” He shakes his head, his lips quirking up with a whimsical smile. “Falling in love with Bella hit me like a fucking freight train, truth be told. Just between you and me, it scared the living shit out of me at first. There was a lot going on in my life then, and I thought there wasn’t room for a woman. For marriage. A real marriage, I mean, not the fake one we started with. You know how old Jonah Reed set us up.”
“Everybody does,” I bite off.
“Right. Anyway, once I came to my senses, from that moment on, life’s been better than I ever imagined,” he continues.
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot going on in my life right now,” I say, echoing his words.
“And that’s why I’m here—to help you get your shit worked out—and I don’t just mean the cameras and this fuckhead in prison who hates you.” He picks up another camera. “You going on top of that barn, or am I?”
“I’ll do it,” I say sharply.
Though I wonder at the shine lingering in his deep-blue eyes.
Drake’s one lucky man with a wife, a kid, and another on the way.
Could that ever be me and Tory?
Could the mountains between us just melt away someday like they did for Drake and Bella, leaving a bliss I know he’d die for?
It takes the better part of the afternoon to get everything set up and checked over.
I thank Drake for his help before he leaves and then head into the house.
Tory carried the cupboard doors from the barn to the house earlier. I’d told her to wait for me before hanging them up.
She’s at the kitchen counter now, cutting raw chicken into strips.
I have to tighten every muscle in my body to resist walking up behind her, spinning her around, and picking up right where we’d left off in the barn.
“Hey,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “I screwed the knobs and hinges on the doors, but I couldn’t get them in place. They’re just too cumbersome.”
