Page 59 of Can’t Say No

I’ve been a lot of things over the years: opinionated, dynamic, selfish, reckless, a hot commodity, a hot mess.

But good?

I’ve never just been good before.

And I’m not sure how long I can keep this up.

“And then Remi put me on blast in front of the entire room and said I’m not doing my job well enough!”

Matty whines through the phone, but I can hardly focus on his words. My eyes are glued just past the tree line separating my property from Connor’s. He’s been swamped with work, both at the school and at the orchard. And I’ve done all I can to keep myself busy too, to ignore all the feelings our trip out to Crescent Lake stirred up. But an unfamiliar longing has set in, and after close inspection, I realize I’m desperate to see him.

He’s addicting.

And easy.

And yet, so damn hard.

I’m simultaneously drowning in him and anchored by him. Either way, my head’s underwater, and I’m not sure how I’ll survive this.

I pace by my window, locked on the horizon line as the sun sets. I keep expecting to see Connor’s bedroom light switch on, as if the surety of his presence will somehow dull the ache in my chest.

“Delaney? Are you even listening to me?” Matty squawks, bringing me back to the task at hand, talking him off the wall.

“Yeah, sorry. I know, Remi is a bitch. I’m sorry.” Another day, another cat fight between him and my manager. “I think you’re doing your job just fine, and I’m the one who signs your paychecks, so don’t worry about her.”

Matty huffs. “Thanks D. When are you coming home anyway?”

Home.

What a loaded question. My penthouse in L.A. never felt like home. It’s more like a crash pad where I get my mail. At this point, it’s a glorified storage container. But this big, empty house in Ridgecrest isn’t much better. This place feels like a museum with a thousand breakable things, myself included.

Before I can get too existential over Matty’s question, a warm glow finally catches my eye through the trees.

A glow that feels a lot like home.

“Delaney!” Matty screeches again through the phone. “L.A.? Soon? Please?”

“Sorry, Matty. I’m exhausted and scatterbrained. I’ll talk to Remi and get her off your ass. Not sure when I’ll be back out.” Before he can protest further, I add, “Love ya. Gotta go!”

I quickly hang up the call. He’s a piece of work. But so was I when I met him. Maybe I still am.

I’ll have to check with my therapist on that.

A loud knock from downstairs startles me and pulls my focus from the light outside my window.

I yank on a sweatshirt over my pajamas and run down the stairs, another knock bouncing off the empty walls.

The familiar scene of Connor standing at the back sliding door takes my breath away. The porch light casts a warm glow around him, shadows dancing across his lazy smile. He’s dressed down, a simple tee shirt and sweatpants, and my stomach flips at the memory of what’s underneath. Crescent Lake was reckless, but the thought of letting Connor in my house right now… that feels dangerous.

“I thought you could use some supper,” He says, slipping past me with grocery bags in hand, completely unaware of the spell he has me under. I will my racing heart to slow, will my jumble of thoughts to fall back into order. But that feels nearly impossible when his arm brushes mine, turning my whole body electric.

Before I can protest, beg him to leave me and my wild thoughts alone, my stomach growls and Connor nods, clearly pleased with himself.

“That’s what I thought.”

He unpacks the bags, laying out a box of pasta, veggies, and frozen meatballs. “Nothing fancy tonight because I’m tired.”

“Contrary to what you think, Mr. Majors,” I say, heaving myself onto the counter beside him, desperate to be close despite my better judgement, “I don’t need fancy. We can just have cereal if you want.”