Page 46 of His Hot Mess

But this was Chris. And he waslaughingat me!

I ran downstairs, taking them two at a time. I expected to push through my apartment door, run across the sidewalk, jab a finger in his chest, and yell in his face about how rude it was to watch a girl dancing in private… in front of her giant open window over Main Street. Never mind that part. I’d figure it out.

But when I pushed out the door onto the street, my huffed-up anger froze in place. He was gone.

Had he left? Did I scare him off somehow? Maybe I’d conjured up the image of him in my happy dancing dream state. That last thought made me concerned for my sanity. But then I realized the truck he’d been leaning against was still there. All these trucks in town looked the same to me but I was pretty sure this one was his.

"Morning," came a gruff voice from behind me.

I whirled around to see Chris standing in the open door of my shop, leaning against the doorframe.

“What—” I started. How had he gotten in?

“Barkley Falls is pretty safe. But still, you really ought to think about locking your door.”

“Of course I locked the door!”

“Just not this time?”

I growled, storming towards him. He took a backwards step into the shop. When I reached him, my anger faltered. That pine-soap scent filled my nostrils, clouding my anger. Damn the heat radiating off of him. Damn the way I felt his eyes on me as I stood next to him, reaching for the door handle.

I rattled it and checked the deadbolt, as if it was the door or lock’s fault I’d left it open. I tried to think back to the last time I’d been in here. Not since Friday. With him.

I’d been so pissed at him I must have forgotten to properly lock up. The shop had been unlocked the whole weekend.

You idiot!

Thank god there wasn’t a thing of value in here yet, except the materials we’d unloaded on Monday, and a quick glance to the long pile of wood off to the side of the room showed me everything appeared to be there still.

I closed the door and locked it with an exaggerated twist, my whole body aflame with embarrassment. “There. Locked.”

This wasn’t how the day was supposed to start. I’d planned on standing at a safe distance from Chris Slade and telling him Friday was a huge mistake. That we never should have… drank pink cocktails together? Made out in the bathroom? Then we would get to work.

As I turned to face him, I nearly said, “Happy now?” but instead, all I could do was stare.

Chris was wearing a plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his thick forearms. His toolbelt hung across his narrow hips, framing the front of his jeans, tight across the crotch and thighs.

The embarrassment fell away, replaced with a heat expanding in my lower body as my eyes lingered on the bulge there a moment too long.

As he turned his back to me, lowering the toolbox I’d been so worked up I hadn’t noticed him carrying, I saw his jeans were just as snug across his backside, too. The inside of my stomach flickered at the perfect way his ass moved under that faded blue denim.

He turned back to face me, his hands free now. HisGrayscale Contractingcap shaded his eyes. That, combined with the dim light from the still-papered over windows, made it so I couldn’t quite see where he was looking. Over my shoulder? At my outfit? In my eyes?

Had he always been tall? So broad-shouldered? Had his jaw always looked so cut and had he always been so clean-shaven?

The answer to all those questions was yes—I’d been in his arms already. I’d felt that jaw prickle against my neck.

If I didn’t look away from him I was going to… whatwasI going to do?

Chris looked down to the floor for a moment, then took his cap off and ran a hand through his hair. The movement was almost unbearably sexy.

Then he looked up at me and for the first time that morning—for the first time since his face had been inches from mine, his hands on my hips, he looked into my eyes. The intensity of his liquid blue-green gaze made it feel as if he was looking directly inside of me.

Like he could see everything.

“I’m sorry, Sadie” he said, his voice gruff and low.

“For what?" I whispered. I honestly didn’t know what he was going to say. For watching me dance upstairs? For ravaging me in the bathroom? For the way it felt like he was looking inside my fuckingsoulright now?

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