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I needed to get my people into temporary housing.
And then I needed to get my town rebuilt and my people back home.
But first, I had to sort the last of these boxes, get them packed into volunteers’ cars, and send them off to their proper places.
Then I needed…to find something to do to,anythingto do that would take me away from the memories. If I just stayed busy, I would be okay. I could stop thinking and—
“You need to take a break.”
I froze.
FuckingJoel Marshall.
He didn’t like me. He’d made that clear.
So why wouldn’t he leave me alone?
“I’m fine,” I snapped, glaring up at him, not wanting to care that he was clearly exhausted too—his hair askew, his short, scruffy beard gone crazy. His skin was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked…like I felt.
And I knew it was because of my words earlier.
I’d seen his face, his eyes.
I’d wounded him.
I didn’t care. Ididn’t.
Anyway, I didn’t have time to care about Joel and his precious feelings. I had shit to do. Starting with finishing this sorting.
Clenching my jaw, I forced myself to remember that as I reached for a box from the stack in front of me.
“I saidyou need—” He snagged my arm, andGodI did not want to feel that touch in my very soul, in the flutters of my stomach, in the goose bumps on my skin, and the pulse thudding in my veins.
I jumped back. “AndIsaid I’m fine. I need to sort these supplies and get them over to the other shelter.” I stoppedjustreachingfor the box and put my mouth where my money was, yanking a one of the cardboard cubes out of the stack. Of course, I didn’t really consider that I’d grabbed one from the middle and sent the others teetering.
And in my subsequent effort to stymie a collapse, I nearly ended up on my ass.
And, because the universe hated me?
Joel caught me.
Warm hands, a big, strong body. My pussy immediately knowing what it wanted (and for the record, that was his cock thrusting inside me, stretching me wide and doing it again and again andagain).
Joel, though, didn’t feel the same way.
I knew it because he set me away from him almost as quickly as he’d caught me.
I knew it because he was…like he’d been that morning.
He was theexpressionhe’d worn on his face that morning, seeing me, realizing who was in his bed.
The disappointment.
The disgust.
“You’re about to collapse,” he snapped, slamming a hand onto the boxes so they didn’t topple over. “The black circles beneath your eyes have their own fucking black circles.”
I glared at him, stepped back when he tried to takemybox from me.
