Charlotte stepped back quickly, and I forced myself to do the same. To put distance between us. To remember all the reasons I couldn’t cross that line.
“Morning, Dale,” Charlotte said, her voice slightly breathless.
Dale’s knowing grin said he knew exactly what he’d interrupted. “Well, don’t let me stop you. I’ll just... get my station set up.”
He walked away whistling, and I caught Charlotte’s eye. She looked flustered, frustrated, and something else. Something that looked a lot like want.
And for the first time in a very long time, I asked—what if?
What if I admitted that I wanted her—not just physically, though God knew I wanted that too—but wanted to know her? To make her smile? To be the reason she looked at someone with heat in her eyes?
What if, for once in my life, I let myself have something good instead of pushing it away before it could be taken from me?
It was a dangerous thought. The kind that could get me hurt. Get us both hurt.
But as Charlotte turned back to her equipment check, shooting me one more heated glance over her shoulder, I realized something.
It might already be too late to walk away.
CHAPTER FOUR
Charlotte
I was hiding in my office again. My refuge for the last few days. Even my routine had changed. I arrived earlier than I ever had before, hurried through the pre-morning routine and run like a scared rabbit into its den.
Away from the big, bad predator.
Because all I could think about was him. Crew. And that moment when we’d been so close I could have counted his eyelashes. When I’d almost—almost—kissed him.
Or maybe he’d almost kissed me.
God, I didn’t even know anymore.
What I did know was that the tension between us was getting worse. Every look lasted a beat too long. Every accidental touch sent sparks racing through me. Every time we were in the same room, the air felt charged, electric, like something was about to snap.
And I was going insane.
I rubbed my temples, trying to focus on the numbers in front of me. Purchase order for pine lumber. Standard stuff. Routine.
Except my brain kept circling back to the way Crew had looked at me. How his jaw had clenched when I got close. How his hands had fisted at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from reaching for me. How I’d seen the bulge in his jeans, impossible to miss, proof that whatever this was between us wasn’t one-sided.
Did he feel it too? This pull between us that seemed to get stronger every day?
Or was I imagining things because I was so desperately attracted to him I couldn’t think straight? I’d lain awake last night, my hand between my thighs, imagining those rough hands on my body, that gruff voice in my ear telling me all the filthy things he wanted to do to me.
I jumped when my walkie-talkie crackled to life on my desk.
“Boss, you got a minute?” Dale’s voice came through. “I need you to take a look at the Mitchell order before we do the final cut.”
I grabbed the walkie. “Be right there.”
The main floor was busy, the usual hum of machinery and voices filling the space. I made my way to the specialty section. That the fact that Crew worked in this section had nothing to do with the way my heart was racing. Or the dampness I could feel between my thighs.
Liar.
And there he was. Bent over a piece of oak paneling, his concentration absolute. Even from across the space, I could see the sawdust caught in his dark hair, the way his forearms flexed as he worked. He’d rolled up his sleeves again, and I found myself staring at those arms—thick with muscle, dusted with dark hair, strong enough to lift me, to pin me down, to hold me exactly where he wanted me while he took what we both needed.
Crew looked up as I approached, and our eyes met. The impact was physical. Heat flooded through me, pooling low in my belly, making me ache. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us charged with everything we weren’t saying.
