Page 8 of The Mechanics of Lust

Which was... fair. And the sooner we quit talking about Luke’s sex life, the better for my unruly dick.

And so I did.

Quit talking.

Although the incendiary images flipping like a Rolodex in my brain proved less cooperative.

But that’s what cold showers were for.

CHAPTERTHREE

Luke

While I threwsome sheets on the spare bed, Zach fumbled his way out of his clothes all the way down to his briefs. I deserved a fucking gold medal for not offering to help, and then another gold for keeping my gaze laser-focused on what I was doing and not on him standing there half-naked.

I figured his lack of concern was down to alcohol rather than the fact he trusted me, but I wasn’t complaining. And it was impossible not to admire his gorgeous arse in those dark green briefs that matched his eyes, as he poured himself between the sheets and rolled to put his back to me. He drew the top sheet up to his waist and was lights out in minutes.

The warm night didn’t require any blankets, but I popped one on the end of the bed, just in case. Then I put a mug of water and some ibuprofen on the bedside table within easy reach and a bucket on the floor. I had no idea whether Zach held his drink well or not, and I didn’t particularly want to find out by having to clean the floors just a few days after I’d moved in.

All done, I stood at the door watching him sleep until I embarrassed even myself. The man was strikingly beautiful.Prettyseemed too juvenile, too... superficial, and Zach was anything but superficial. His lightly tanned arms and shoulders gave way to a back covered in acres of pale Irish skin dusted with groups of freckles like someone had thrown them at him in random handfuls.

I’d helped out enough at the station when shirts were shed in the heat to know exactly where every one of those delightful groups existed, especially the one that dipped under the waistband of his jeans—or the sheet around his waist—and drove my imagination crazy.

Zach muttered something in his sleep and rolled to face me, those auburn waves tumbling around his face, a lock or two catching in his lashes, those bright green eyes remaining shuttered in sleep.

Enough.

I left his door slightly ajar so the hall light would help if he woke in the night and headed to the bathroom for a shower. Zach Lane was doing my head in. What the hell was I doing crushing on this guy? Because there was no denying that’s exactly what I was doing, hadbeendoing ever since I’d first laid eyes on him the year before.

I stepped under the hot water, soaped, and rinsed, all the while stewing over why this guy was taking up far too much real estate in my brain. Why him? Whyanyone?

Two and a half years since Gil and I had lost Callie and our marriage imploded, I was barely getting oxygen back into my brain. Crushing on the best mate of myex-husband’s new man was way too fucking complicated even for me. Not to mention the guy was a pain in the arse and made no bones about the fact he didn’t like me, or at least the way I’d walked out on Gil.

I stepped out of the shower and towelled myself dry.

Nothing was ever easy with Zach, or at least it hadn’t been for me. Everyone else got the easy-going, good-natured country boy. Me? Not so much. And true to form, he’d complained from the minute we’d set foot inside the house, right up until he fell between those sheets.

First, he’d insisted on simply crashing on my couch. When I won that argument, he started another about not needing any linen on his bed or any food to soak up the booze. I won both of those as well, forcing a peanut butter sandwich into his mouth before we hit the bedroom. I knew damn well he hadn’t eaten a thing at the pub because I’d been watching him like the embarrassing stalker that I was. All. Night. Long.

The less said about that, the better.

I barely understood it myself. Zach had made his dislike for me clear from the moment we met. Back then he’d told me I had some balls just showing up at the station to see Gil like I had and then proceeded to watch my every move like I might steal the family jewels. It had been funny at first, but almost a year later, it was just plain frustrating. That ongoing censure was written in the disapproving frown he wore every time he looked my way. Well, all except for the times he looked like he might want to rip my clothes off and spread me over his plate for dinner.

So yeah, there was that conundrum to ponder as well.

Call it a balanced opinion, but it did give me a smidgen of hope. The question was, hope for what? And why I even gave a fuck about the answer was yet another troubling question.

It wasn’t like I was ready for... well, anything, if I was being honest. Regardless of what I’d said to Zach about Gil not having a clue about my sex life, the honest truth was he hadn’t been too far from the mark. It was a fact I wasn’t too proud of and another excellent reason for me to have taken the job and moved away from all that.

Grief was a strange beast. The first year after Callie had been killed in a car accident, Gil seemed to have taken the hardest hit. Maybe because he’d been driving at the time, even though it hadn’t been his fault. Two and a half years later and he was finally finding his way back to life with the help of Holden at his side, and I couldn’t feel anything but happy for them.

My life, on the other hand, had held together marginally better that first year, but I’d faced a downward spiral ever since. And yes, I might’ve been using a few too many unhealthy ways to escape: self-medicating with alcohol and sex.

I pulled on a pair of boxers, cleaned my teeth, and wandered back down the hall to check on Zach one last time. I was greeted by soft snores and a face slack with sleep and free of care. A smile crossed my lips. He was too fucking cute for words.

I wasn’t sure what it was about the prickly guy that he’d found a home under my skin, but he was undoubtedly there. Maybe it was because he’d had to watch the man he’d been in love with fall for someone else, someone who happened to be my ex-husband. Or maybe it was because of what he’d been through with his arsehole father. Or maybe because every time I watched Zach roughhousing with his dogs and any other dog that came within a country mile of Miller Station since all of them seemed to love him, I’d wished it were me who was the centre of his attention.

Yeah, mostly that last one.

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