Vomit raced up my throat, but I fought to keep it down. Frantic, I yanked on my pants and stuffed my arms in my shirt sleeves before pulling it over my head. I had to get out of that cottage. Away from that clock. Just…
Away.
I’d stayed too long.
My mind was a haze of reality and a past I never forgot as I stumbled down the narrow hallway, grabbed my boots, and launched out the front door. The second the cold night air hit me outside, I collapsed to my knees and then lurched forward, hurling my guts up behind the untamed hedges near Lola’s front door.
“You weak fucking bastard.” I punched my fist against my thigh. “Get the fuck up.”
Shaking, my eyes focused on nothing but my truck, I got up, forcing one foot in front of the other. Down the path. Out the gate. I slumped against the front tyre of my truck.
My keys dug into my skin through the pocket, but I knew I wouldn’t need them. I rarely drove at night andneverthis close to the edge. I sure as hell didn’t want some poor cop getting called out of bed to scrape my car off a tree.
I lifted my head just enough to glance back at the cottage. I sure as hell wasn’t going back in there, either. What other options did I have? Sleep in my truck? The gossips would love that. Yolanda had probably already alerted half the town about the fact I’d been parked out front for hours.
Looks like I’ll be walking back to my workshop.
I jammed my feet into my stupid socks. Boots next. A dog perked up at the sound of my heavy, uneven footsteps cracking along the road, and if I saw the flutter of Yolanda’s front curtains as I passed, I ignored it.
It was easy to ignore everything when guilt crushed my chest.
Lola wasn’t the type for something casual. I certainly hadn’t given her the impression I was, but I’d never planned to stay. My promise to treat her like a gentleman? Yeah, that had lasted for about twenty seconds after I saw her standing there, hugging the door, looking so goddamn beautiful.
That woman made me so weak, but I could never let my guard down around her again.
What life could she possibly have with me? Constantly walking on eggshells, waiting for me to snap? She deserved better. And what would she say if she found out the truth of why I’d ended up this way?
No.
No fucking way.
Lola and I were never happening.
I’d make sure of it.
Harry’s boots scuffed alongthe workshop floor. The sound was the first thing that dragged my attention away from the vanity drawers I’d been crafting for most of the morning.
“Hey, old man.”
I scowled when he dumped his cooler on the concrete, his tool belt dropping on top a second later. He aimed his empty iced coffee bottle for the bin like a pro basketballer. Turns out, he was a shit shot. The bottle hit the wall and bounced along the ground.
“You gonna pick that up?” I grumbled.
Harry shrugged. “Later.”
I wedged the chisel into the wood, flicking my eyes up at him before my attention went back to my work. “How is it that ninety percent of this place is mine, but a hundred percent of the mess is yours?”
“A little thing I like to callteamwork.”
I grunted and went back to the dovetail joints.
Harry’s hip slanted against the bench beside me. “You in one of yourmoodsagain?” The fact I ignored him only made him laugh. “That’s a yes. Come on, it’s ten thirty. Let’s hit the road for the coffee shop.”
And risk seeing Lola in town? Hell no. “Not today.”
“What about your whole morning routine?”
I flattened my lips and refused to say a word. My morning routine had gone out the window when I’d abandoned the woman of my dreams and spent the rest of the night pretending I could fall asleep in the back room of the workshop instead. Then, I’d crept back under the cover of dawn like a coward to pick up my car. Yeah, it was safe to say my well-worn routine had gone out the window.
