Page 21 of Unraveled

Her assumption annoyed me. “I have plans. And furnishings won’t be something we’ll need to pick out for a few weeks.” And it wouldn’t need to be done over dinner.

“Plans with your girlfriend?”

This wouldn’t work if she intended to play games, particularly over a span of months. I decided to clear the air. “I hope we can work together on this house, but my personal life is off-limits.”

Even though Layla wasn’t my girlfriend, getting back together with Carly wasn’t an option. I still had too much resentment toward her even if I was angrier at my cousin. I’d never be able to look past their betrayal.

“I would imagine this job would open a lot of doors for you, would it not?”

Her threat was obvious, causing me to turn around and walk toward my truck. The job might mean a lot to me, but I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my pride for it, especially not to my cheating ex.

“Wait. Sorry. Kellan, wait—”

I turned toward her, hands on my hips, fighting my temper.

“I’d like it if we can be friendly during this. I won’t bring up the past again.”

“Or make veiled threats about my job depending on making dinner plans with you?”

She appeared chagrined and walked over to me. “I understand.” Her hand stuck out. “Shake on it.”

I took her hand, hoping this was a promise she meant to keep.

After I finished discussing the timeline and blueprints with Carly and her parents, I drove over to my remodel job in Bellevue, a project that was in the final stages. Though I’d arrived there late, I left work early, much to the shock of my crew. But I needed to get home, shower, and make dinner for Layla. Unfortunately, Seattle traffic didn’t cooperate with my plans.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was why I didn’t date on a weeknight. But since I only had limited time with Layla, I was willing to deal with the short-term stress.

As I pulled into my driveway, I realized I only had five minutes before she arrived. I raced into the house and had barely taken off my shoes when the bell rang.

I answered the door to see her looking beautiful in a flirty red dress and matching heels. I was a sweaty bum in comparison.

“Hi, you,” she greeted.

I ran a hand through my hair, aware that my clothes were covered with drywall dust from the job. “Hi, gorgeous. Sorry. Traffic got me, and I just walked in.”

“No apology needed.”

I let her inside, noticing she was without a bag. “Did you not bring your things?”

“I didn’t want to appear presumptuous about spending the night.”

Leaning forward, I planted a kiss on her lips, careful not to touch her clothes. “I want to spend every minute I can with you before you leave.”

“In that case, my stuff is in the car.”

“I’ll run out and get your bag, jump in the shower, and then, I promise: dinner.”

“How about I go get my things while you shower to make things more efficient?”

It would save time. “Okay. Feel free to pour some wine but leave the cooking to me.”

“Believe me, we’re both better off if we leave that part to you. I’m only decent with breakfast foods.”

Layla was such a mystery—I loved learning things like this about her. “Good. Hopefully that means you’re easily impressed.”

I was up the stairs and in the shower in seconds. There, I literally tried to scrub off the evidence of my day—the headache in dealing with my ex this morning, drywalling a basement, and traffic. I was anxious to return downstairs and start dinner. I’d finished washing my body and rinsing my hair when I whipped around at the sound of the shower door opening.

Layla, with her hair up, stepped in.