Page 41 of His Hot Mess

“Great,” Graydon said, obviously relieved. “With Casey that’s two for me and two for Luce. Plus, I get the better end of the deal. I know yours and Casey’s will be awesome. Lucy’s got a wildcard with her mom. Sadie’ll knock it out of the park though, I’m sure.”

The mention of Sadie’s name had me tipping my head back on my chair.

Graydon tapped his hands on the arms of his chair in a flickery little beat that told me he’d noticed. And was dying to say more.

I sighed. “What?”

“Nothing!”

“Come on.” I cracked my lids, glaring at him. “I know you’ve got something you want to say.”

He made a show of shrugging. Then gave up the farce. “Okay man, I have to know. How did you end up in the bathroom with her?”

I grumbled. Why had I encouraged him?

“Come on,” Graydon said. “How did you two even agree to go in there together? Every time I see you together, you're bickering like an old married couple.”

For some inexplicable reason, that thought took shape in my brain. Me and Sadie with silver hair on a porch swing, bickering, but grinning and holding hands. It made something soft and warm expand through my insides.

I shoved it down fast. “No. I'm not indulging you.”

“Seriously?"

I frowned and looked at my friend. Then I sighed. “I don't actually know,” I said finally.

“Was it the first time?”

“Yes! Do you actually think we were making out at her store all last week?”

“I don't know. You were alone with her, weren't you?”

“We were working,” I said, a little indignantly. “It's been… strictly business, between us. Anyway, I wouldn’t do something like that.”

Graydon raised an eyebrow. “You know, last week, I would have said the same thing. But I also would have said the Chris I know wouldn’t end up shitfaced in a bathtub with Sadie Fulham.”

I groaned. He was right. I was acting completely unlike myself. I would wonder why, but the answer was as clear as the image of her in my mind. Sadie. “Last night we just... overdid it. It just kind of happened.”

Lies.

I remembered. I’d been in the house. I heard her in the kitchen. I saw her.

I wanted her.

“Do you regret it?”

My first instinct was a single word, as clear as a punch to the gut.No.

But I did regret it, didn't I? I wasn’t thinking clearly last night, at all. I hadn’t meant to mess up our working relationship. I wanted to be able to finish her store for her. I wanted her to have the dream business, the one she’d scrawled on that piece of paper I’d seen in the diner. The one that made her face light up.

I also wanted to protect myself from feeling everything I was feeling right now. I made a promise to myself not to lose myself to a woman again. Acting like this—completely out of character, felt dangerously close to losing it.

“I shouldn't have let it happen,” I said finally, which I knew was evading the question.

“You like her though, don’t you? I can tell.”

“No,” I said. But the word was too loud. Too wrong.

I thought back to last night. To yesterday when we’d been at the lumberyard together. She'd looked so beautiful when she talked about her store. So full of exuberance and life. And she'd looked so damned sexy in that dress. Last night, she'd had this fire in her eyes I’d wanted a piece of. I already had a piece of. When I was with her, I felt that fire. Like something dead inside me had been revived. A piece of coal turned to ember; to flame.

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