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I cleaned that fireplace yesterday. There shouldn’t be any charred remains. I go over the shady details of my night, trying to remember everything in chronological order. Nick unlocked the door, led me inside, and got a glass of water. He took me down to my room where we awkwardly found my trusty vibrator, and then after completely winding me up, he left.
Neither of us stopped to put the fire on, but it had to have been Nick after he walked out of my room because nothing else possibly makes sense. But I could have sworn he walked straight out. I heard the thud of the door when he left.
At least, I think it was the thud of the door, but in reality, it could have been any single door inside my home.
Ahh fuck.
This can’t be happening. If he didn’t walk straight out last night, that means he was still here when I went to town on myself with my vibrator. He would have heard every moan and sharp gasp I made. Oh, God! Even though the details are fuzzy, I definitely screamed his name in shameless desperation.
Oh no, no, no, no, no. This is not happening.
Humiliation sweeps through me. I already made enough of an ass of myself at the bar when I asked him to take me into the back of his pickup and have his wicked way with me. But damn, the way his eyes sparked to life as though I’d breathed pure oxygen right into his lungs for the first time in six years . . . Shit. What I wouldn’t give to see that look in his eyes every day for the rest of my life.
Woah.Every day for the rest of my life?I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I need to be focusing on the business I’m going to build very, very far away from here, not the life I’ll never be able to have in Blushing. I walked away from those possibilities years ago, and until now, I thought I was content in that decision.
Being back here in Blushing is starting to screw with my head. Or maybe it’s just whatever Oxley was pouring into my drinks last night.
Not wanting to freeze, I stride over to the charred remains of last night’s fire and grab a few pieces of wood off the pile—a pile that’s certainly fuller than it was yesterday. Strategically placing them into the fireplace, I quickly light it.
Pride drums through my chest. There are so many things I’ve had to learn about being a homeowner in an area like this, and lighting that fire has been one of the biggest learning curves of all. I’ve spent hours trying to get the hang of stacking the wood inside the fireplace correctly, but I’m getting there. Not going to lie though, if I ever had the opportunity to build my own house, I’d definitely be ordering one of those electric fireplaces. Or perhaps just installing central heat would be easiest.
With the fire now roaring and the house steadily getting warmer, I make my way into the kitchen, and just as I turn on the coffee machine, my open laptop comes to life with an incoming video call. I cringe at the sound, cursing myself for leaving the volume on max, but there’s no denying the happiness I feel seeing Rena’s name on the screen.
“Hey, Rena,” I say, answering the call and swiveling the screen to face me so that I can keep making my coffee. “Bit early, don’t you think?”
“Early? What the hell are you talking about? It’s almost midday.”
“What?” I grunt, whipping around to see the old clock on the wall. “Holy shit.”
“Did you only just get up?”
“Yeah, I had a bit of a wild night at the bar,” I mutter, willing my coffee mug to hurry up and fill itself. “Oxley was working the bar and after having Dwayne call to beg for me back, he made it his personal mission to get me as fucked up as possible.”
“Oh shit.”
I laugh, remembering it all too clearly. “Well, I wasn’t exactly innocent in all of it. I had a shitty day and sat at his bar with every intention of wasting the night away, but then Sarah showed up, and she’d had a shitty day too, and then—”
“You finally crossed Nick off your naughty list?” Rena cuts me off, trying to finish my sentence for me as a cheesy, hopeful grin stretches across her face.
I groan and roll my eyes as the embarrassment of my night comes back full force. “As much as I wanted to cross him off the to-do list, I fully humiliated myself trying to do so, and that won’t be happening. Besides, now that I don’t have Oxley’s potent concoction pulsing through my veins, the only thing I need to tick off my to-do list is a groveling apology. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure Nick was still in the house, lighting my fire, while I got myself off.”
“Ummmm . . . what?” she laughs. “You’ve definitely missed parts of that story.”
Embarrassment flushes my cheeks, and I pick up my full coffee mug, taking a long-awaited sip. “When Sarah and I got so drunk we could barely stand up, Oxley called Nick to come take our asses home, and then Nick walked me right into my bedroom to make sure I didn’t kill myself on the way, and after an embarrassing encounter with my vibrator and me pretty much begging him to watch me use it, he stormed out saying he wasn’t going to touch me until I was begging for him back and then . . .”
I cut myself off, the humiliation of last night suffocating my words. How the hell am I supposed to live this down?
“And then?” Rena prompts. “You can’t get that far into a story and just stop mid-sentence. What happened?”
“Ugghhhhhh,” I groan, not wanting to have to repeat it again. “He stepped into me and said some things that made me all . . . hmmmmm . . . and then he just walked away, leaving me all worked up, and when I heard the door close behind him, I—”
“Got to work,” she booms, her laugh coming through my speakers in a high-pitched squeal.
“Like any other woman on the edge would do,” I agree. “But this morning I realized the fire had been made, and I know for sure he didn’t have time to light it before he forced me into my room, which only means he had to have done it after, right when I was—”
“Giiiiiiirl,” Rena laughs, enjoying this way too much. “That’s so damn funny. I’ve heard you getting off before, and you are so not discreet about it. The whole foundation of the house would have rocked when you came.”
My cheeks flush the brightest shade of red, and I bury my face into my hands. “What am I going to do?”
