Page 9 of Burly and Obsessed

In BUD/S training, we did weapon drills after being awake for seventy-two hours straight. My hands never shook. Not once. Even in the sandstorms of Fallujah, I maintained precision that earned grudging nods from command. Missing a simple nail shot is amateur hour.

“You hungover or heartbroken, Lincoln?” Hank calls over, eyebrows raised.

I wave him off. “Whatever, man.”

“Definitely heartbroken,” Cody says, passing a hammer to Hank. “Saw him outside the VA Center yesterday with Andrea.”

My shoulders tighten at her name. I try to grin and play it off like it was just a boring day, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Spending the day with Andrea was the best day I’ve had in a long time.

“What did you do?” Jordan asks. “Is she mad at you?”

“Nah, everything’s fine.” I try to keep my statement light, but I can hear the underlying heaviness in my voice. Frustration twists in my chest.

“Maybe you should—” Hank starts, but the crunch of tires on gravel cuts him off.

Jax’s truck pulls up to the site. His timing is either terrible or perfect, depending on whether you’re asking me or the universe’s sense of humor.

“Boss is here,” Jordan calls out, immediately straightening his posture.

Damien steps forward as Jax approaches. “Hey, Boss. We’re on schedule. South wall will be done by the end of the day.”

Jax nods, scanning the structure with an experienced eye before landing on me. “Looking good.”

“Should be wrapped before Jake from Ghost Security comes for his next inspection,” Damien adds.

Jax studies me longer than necessary. “Heard you helped with the wedding decorations yesterday.”

Not a question. The crew’s eyes shift between us, then everyone is suddenly very interested in getting back to work, even though I know they’re listening.

“Yeah, man. Just helping Leesa out.” I keep my tone casual, shoulders back. The years of military bearing come in handy when you’re lying to your commanding officer.

Jax steps closer, lowering his voice. “Appreciate the help, but remember our deal.”

Our deal. The condition of my employment: don’t touch his little sister. Don’t look at her. Don’t even think about her.

Too late on all counts.

“Copy that,” I say, but something shifts inside me. A quiet rebellion brewing beneath the surface compliance.

Things are about to change.

I return to work. The nail gun suddenly feels like a weapon I’m disarming rather than a tool I’m using. I catch Rowan glancing at my white-knuckled grip. Jordan and Cody exchange looks when I triple-check a measurement that needs only a glance.

Jax walks the site with Damien, discussing timelines and materials, but I feel his eyes on me at regular intervals. I force myself to keep my face neutral. The same technique I used during interrogation resistance training. The irony isn’t lost on me.

Who the hell gave him the right to dictate his sister’s life anyway? Andrea’s a grown woman who has a mind and life of her own. Why have I been so stupid to listen to Jax?

My jaw clenches. I know why I follow Jax’s rules.

By the time Jax and Damien finish their inspection, it’s break time. The guys scatter across the clearing, seeking shade under nearby silver pines.

I stand alone at the edge of the site, looking down the trail that leads back toward town. Back toward the hardware store where Andrea works. I wonder if she’s on shift today. I wonder if she’s thinking about yesterday, too.

A memory surfaces: Andrea behind the counter at Heartland Hardware three months ago. I’d come in for basic supplies but couldn’t remember the size of the specialty screws needed for the cabin’s custom windows.

“Three-eighths with the flat head,” she’d said before I even asked, sliding a box across the counter. Her smile knowing but not condescending. “For those frames you’ve been working on.”

She’d remembered. Not just what I needed, but why.

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