Page 23 of She Was Made for Me

I nod, turning to head back out of the room before she can ask too many questions. Yes, I spent the weekend making her a desk, carefully planing and sanding and varnishing the old wood of the door to make a smooth surface for her. Yes, it was a lot of work. No, I probably shouldn’t have done it.

“This is… wow. Thank you. It’s perfect.” Her voice is reverent, and despite myself I glance at her. She’s leaning forward over the desk, admiring it, and I foolishly let myself admire the way her jeans hug her perfect ass.

Before I can stop myself, I imagine walking up behind her, pressing myself to her soft curves, and burying my face in her hair.

Disgust washes through me as soon as I have the thought. I should not be thinking about my friend’s daughter in this way.

“You’re welcome, Vi,” I say, my voice gravelly. It’s the first time I’ve called her Vi, and I wonder if she’ll notice.

She does.

She turns back to me, her eyes wide, her mouth curving into a tentative smile.

It hits me hard in the chest, and I glance away, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I don’t want your stuff all over the floor,” I mumble. “It’s getting in the way.”

I leave the room before I can register the expression on her face.

* * *

I putthe notes from my clipboard on Violet’s new desk and head out to lunch without saying a word. I’ve spent the entire morning avoiding her—again—which is hardly helpful given we need to be working together. At this rate we won’t evenstartthe project, let alone finish it.

I take a long lunch, sipping coffee and writing notes at Joe’s, trying to get my head on straight. We’ve had our permit from the Department of Buildings come through, and are only waiting on the Landmarks Commission. This afternoon we’re meeting with the architect, and then we can get in the guys Rich organized to begin the demo phase.

These are all things Violet and I should map out together, but I find myself wanting to be around her as little as possible.

That’s not true—Iwantto be around her, a lot—but I know I shouldn’t want that. I know wanting that makes me a bad guy, the exact kind of guy Rich was worried about on the job site.

The thought makes my stomach sour, and I set my cold coffee aside, sighing. Guess I can’t avoid the place forever.

When I get back, Violet is busily working at her dry-erase board, sticking Post-Its and humming to herself. The tune is familiar but I can’t put my finger on what it is. She turns to me, grinning as I enter the room.

“Guess what?”

“What?” I mumble, wishing she wasn’t so… effervescent. So damn pretty.

“We got our permits from the Landmarks Commission! We’re good to go.”

“Oh.” A smile creeps onto my face too. “That’s awesome.”

“I know!” She motions to the board behind her. “I’ve been working on a Gantt chart”—she shoots me a smirk—“for how it’s going to proceed, using your notes. The architect will be here soon, and after we finalize our plans we can begin demolition, and…” she trails off with a frown. “What?”

It’s not until she stops that I realize I’m staring at her intensely, because she’s done exactly what I wanted her to do, without me having to ask, and she’s happy and excited about it. A week ago she didn’t know the first thing about this project and now she’s up and running as if she’s been doing it for years.

God, she’s so smart, so hard working—and so fucking sexy.

I close my eyes and drop my head into my hands, groaning to myself. This is my own personal hell.

“That’s great, Violet,” I mutter, refusing to look at her. “That’s… yeah. Good.” I turn to leave the room, because I honestly don’t know what else to do, when her voice stops me in my tracks.

“What’s going on? I thought you’d be happy?”

I sigh, not glancing back. “I am. That’s great news.”

“Then why—”

She’s interrupted by a knock on the door as the architect arrives, and I breathe out in relief.

Will this get any easier?

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