“Evie—”
“I’m serious. You deserve to be happy, Charlotte. You deserve to have someone who makes you feel the way you sound right now—all breathless and excited and alive. Don’t let him walk away without at least trying.”
We talked for a few more minutes before hanging up. I sat there on my couch, staring at nothing, thinking about Crew. About that kiss. About the way he’d held me like I was something he couldn’t bear to let go of.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’d make him talk to me. Make him face whatever this was between us.
Because I was tired of running from things that scared me.
And Crew—grumpy, complicated, dark-and-hungry-kissing Crew—scared me more than anything.
Because I was pretty sure I could fall for him. Hard.
If he’d let me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Crew
The problem with avoiding someone was that it made you super aware of them.
Every time Charlotte walked into a room, I knew instantly that she was there. I’d find an excuse to leave. A delivery to check. A tool I needed from the truck. Anything to put distance between us before I did something stupid.
Like kiss her again.
Dale was watching me again. I could feel his eyes on me as we worked on a custom bookshelf order, could sense the knowing look even without turning around.
“Are you going tell me what’s eating you?” he finally asked. “Or do I have to guess?”
“Nothing’s eating me.”
“Right. And I’m Santa Claus.” He set down his sander. “Look, man. I’ve known Charlotte since she was eighteen years old. And I’ve seen the way you two look at each other when you think nobody’s watching.”
My jaw clenched. My hands tightened on the wood I was holding, knuckles going white. “Dale—”
“I’m not saying anything about it. Just that whatever’s going on, avoiding her isn’t fixing it. If anything, you’re both wound tighter than springs.” He paused. “And Marcus asked me yesterday if you and the boss were fighting. Kid’s perceptive.”
Marcus. The nineteen-year-old doing community service at the mill after getting caught doing something stupid on Race’s land. Charlotte had taken him in, given him real work instead of just making him sweep floors. The kid had turned out to have a real talent for woodworking.
“We’re not fighting,” I said.
“No, you’re just avoiding each other like you’ve got the plague. That’s totally different.” Dale’s tone was dry. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and I don’t need to know. But Charlotte’s good people. Best boss I’ve ever had. And you’re making her miserable.”
The words hit harder than they should have. “I’m not—”
“You are. She’s putting on a good show with all the Christmas stuff, but I know her. Something’s bothering her. Or someone.” He fixed me with a look. “Just think about it, yeah? Life’s too short for whatever game you’re playing.”
He walked away before I could respond, leaving me standing there with guilt twisting in my gut. I wasn’t trying to make Charlotte miserable. I was trying to keep my distance. Trying not to fuck up her life by wanting things I had no right to want.
But maybe Dale was right. Maybe avoiding her was making everything worse.
I threw myself back into the work, using physical labor to burn off the restless energy that had been building for days. The bookshelf was intricate work—custom scrollwork that required absolute concentration. Exactly what I needed.
Except I couldn’t concentrate. Because every time I looked up, there she was. Walking past with her hair pulled back, competence in every line of her body. Laughing at something one of the crew said. Checking inventory with that little furrow between her brows that made me want to kiss that spot, to soothe it with my tongue.
Marcus appeared at my workstation around mid-afternoon, looking nervous. “Hey, Crew? Boss wants to see you in her office.”
My stomach dropped. My cock thickened at just the thought of being alone with her, and I had to grit my teeth against the response. “Now?”
