Page 25 of Dirty Fighter

But then she’s out of sight again, and I’m standing there like a tool, with a pile of chopped wood and nowhere near the clarity of thought I’m going to need to get through this weekend.

I stack the wood, and a few seconds later hear the screen door from around front.

I start to follow, but then I’m sixteen again, wondering if it’s going to look weird if I go to the kitchen when she just went.

Screw that. We’re adults. And I don’t need an excuse to walk into my own cabin. Even if it happens to be fifteen seconds behind her.

Swinging the door open, I step inside. She turns, and I stop.

Panic a beat, and then— “I was coming in anyway.”

Jesus, I did not just say that.

One pretty brow lifts, almost like she’s silently asking if I’m okay, if I hit my head out there or something.

“For a drink. Water.” Totally necessary specification there.

Kill me now.

The other brow lifts, and then she nods. “Good to stay hydrated.”

In case I was wondering if I sounded as lame as I thought I did, the answer was yes. Yes, I did.

I can practically feel the heat creeping up my neck into my cheeks and turn for my room before I make myself look more like a tool than I already do.

“Jason?”

I stop, my head dropping as I reply. “Yeah?”

“Water?”

I could deny it. Claim there’s a glass in my room or something.

I mean, there might be.

Instead, I remind myself that I’m a fucking man and go to the sink to pour a glass.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“So Monday?” she asks, throwing me a bone.

Right. Lenard. “Yeah. Looks like it. In all the time I’ve worked with this guy, he’s never not been around. Not answered a call. Honestly, he used to joke that his wife was going to leave him if he didn’t learn how to clock out. So guess it’s a good thing he listened.” I take a drink. “But of all the weekends, huh?”

She gives me a sympathetic nod. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t like the idea of there being any question about the cabin. But waiting a couple days to get this fixed isn’t going to kill me.”

“So I guess we’re stuck here together. What do you want to do?”

I look at her leaning against the counter with the smile that turned my world upside down ten years ago. I know what that guy would have wanted.

But now?

My eyes drift down her curves, playing that game of catch and release at the tuck of her waist and flare of her hip, and then⁠—

Fuck it.

Rounding the breakfast bar, I know exactly what I need to do.