“I’m fine. I just... I kissed him.”
Silence. “Wait, what? You kissed who? I haven’t been gone that long.”
“Crew. I kissed Crew. He’s new.” I sank onto my couch, the events of the day crashing over me. “God, Evie, it just happened.”
“Okay, back up. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything about this mystery man who’s got you all flustered.”
So I did. About how Crew had shown up at the mill, sent by Race. About how he was ex-military, grumpy, closed-off, and completely gorgeous. About the tension that had been building between us—the heated looks, the almost-touches.
“And today, I tripped. Again. And he caught me, and we were just... standing there, pressed together, and he said maybe he couldn’t let me go. And then he kissed me.”
“Oh my God,” Evie breathed. “Tell me about the kiss.”
My cheeks heated at the memory. “It was... intense. Dark and deep and hungry, like he’d been holding back and finallycouldn’t anymore. Evie, I’ve never been kissed like that. Never felt that desperate, that needy.”
“Where were you?”
“At the sawmill. Against the wall in the specialty section.” I groaned. “Marcus walked in on us. I had my leg wrapped around Crew’s waist and we were… Evie, we were all over each other.
Evie let out a low whistle. “Damn, Charlotte. That sounds hot.”
“It was. It really was. But then Marcus interrupted. I just left.”
“Of course you did. That’s what you do.”
“What?”
“You’re my bestie and the most responsible person I know, but you can’t handle certain situations. Men being one of them.”
“That’s not true,” I protested.
“Yes, it is. You haven’t been on a date in over a year, Charlotte, and the last one you were on ended with you pouring a drink over his head.”
“He was being a jerk.”
“So, was this man being a jerk? It didn’t sound like it to me.”
I laid back on the couch. “No, he wasn’t.”
“The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” I leaned back against the couch cushions. “He’s an employee. He’s temporary—only here because he owes Race. And I have a rule about not dating employees. This is exactly the kind of complication I don’t need.”
“But do you want him?”
The question hung there. Did I want Crew? Want more than just that kiss?
“Yeah,” I finally admitted. “God, yes. I want him. I want to know what made him so closed-off, what haunts him, why he looks at me like that when he thinks I’m not watching. I wantmore of those kisses, more of feeling his hands on me, more of—everything.”
I want him naked in my bed, I want to feel him inside me, I want to hear him groan my name when he comes. I want all of him, not just pieces.
I couldn’t even share those thoughts with my bestie.
“Then you know what you have to do.”
“What?”
“Tomorrow, you make him face this. Make him talk about it instead of running away. Don’t let him pretend it didn’t happen.”
