Page 7 of Only Be Mine

Amy squealed. “Oh my God. You like him.”

I looked out the window, a smile tugging at my lips.

“He did smell good.”

Chapter 3

John

November 1 - Twelve Years Ago

Istared at the half-assembled IKEA dresser like it had personally offended me.

Wooden dowels, screws, cam locks, and sad little instruction diagrams were scattered across the floor. I was an architect. I built detailed scale models for a living. I understood spatial reasoning. And yet somehow, this seventy-nine-dollar piece of engineered wood was absolutely destroying me.

“This cannot be that hard,” I muttered, trying to fit piece B into slot C, which absolutely refused to accept that fate.

My phone buzzed.

Thank God.

“Seth,” I answered, out of breath like I’d been wrestling furniture - because I had. “Please tell me you’re close. This dresser is one step away from becoming firewood.”

He sighed. “It might be a bit. Lindsay wants me to help her rearrange the bedroom again.”

I ran a hand down my face. “So… you’re bailing.”

“It’s temporary bailing,” he said. “We’re still meeting at Scot’s tonight, right?”

My chest tightened at the reminder.

Last night flashed back hard and fast. Cate’s terrified scream, the force of her slamming into me, her body pressed against mine. The way she’d laughed after. The way she’d looked at me like she couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or brave.

And that blush…

She’d bolted the first chance she got. There was no logical reason to believe she’d actually show up tonight.

Still… part of me hoped.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “We’re still on.”

“Cool. Gotta go before Lindsay starts narrating her feng shui strategy again.”

The call clicked off.

I dropped my phone onto the floor and looked around at the wreckage of my living room. I had tools everywhere. Wood dust. One drawer assembled backward. Another drawer that appeared to be missing entirely.

Why did I think I could do this alone?

My stomach growled loudly enough to accuse me of negligence.

“Lunch,” I declared, pushing to my feet.

Baby, my golden retriever and self-appointed shadow, lifted her head from her bed by the back door, tail thumping.

“You hungry?” I asked.

She barked once, decisive and loud.