Page 32 of Craving Consequences

I hip check my door shut, adjusting my hold on the containers. My t-shirt and swimsuit top are already plastered to my skin. My pits are soaked, and I have to do a mental check to remember if I rubbed deodorant on before leaving the house.

With my keys dangling from the ignition and my purse abandoned on the seat, I head for the house. My sandals pad lightly up the steps to the front door.

It opens with the twist of my free hand and I slip inside.

The opening is wide, a spacious extension of gleaming hardwood that yawns past the stairs leading to the second floor and a hallway closet on the right. I keep my shoes on as I make my way through, bypassing the open concept sitting room and dining room to the kitchen. The containers are propped neatly on the bottom racks. I grab a soda.

Stop.

Hesitate with the cold glass burning the palm of my clammy fingers.

“Like some stray dog, begging for scraps.”

Lachlan would never. Yet the fear of being thought of as sad and a freeloader has me setting the drink back and shutting the door.

I wipe the moisture on my hands off on my jean shorts and pad to the patio doors overlooking one of my favorite views.

I don’t know what the property looked like before Lachlan’s dad bought it years ago, back before I was even born and Lachlan was a teenager, but I do know he’s done a lot of work on the place, gutting and remodeling to fit a vision. The yard alone is a work of art, a yawning landscape of lush, manicured grass sprawling far into the woods past the perimeter.An extended, stone patio stretches nearly to the lip of the pool dug into the ground with a built-in hot tub sectioned into the far corner. Beyond that, planted the appropriate distance, a simple, brick fire pit juts out of the ground, surrounded by plush seats that hug a person while the fire leaps in the pit and stars dance overhead. It may not be a room, but it’s my favorite spot.

“Everly!” From her sprawled state across the lounge chair next to the pool, Lauren whips off her glasses and waves dramatically over her head. “At last. We can finally enjoy the evening now that my love has arrived.”

Blonde with piercing blue eyes and a figure destined for the runway, Lauren is a vision in her strapless bikini in devil-red. Her long limbs are sun kissed a warm gold that only emphasizes the near white of her hair.

I grin at her enthusiasm and move to the lip of the patio steps to squint down at her.

“Looks like you’ve been enjoying yourself just fine without me,” I tease, eyeing the empty martini glass in her free hand.

Saucy, red lips pucker under the radiating blue of cornflowers. “You know I drink out of sadness when I miss you.”

I roll my eyes with a chuckle. “What’s sad is your lack of sweat when the rest of us are melting in this heat. Can’t you perspire just a little like the rest of us common folk?”

Lauren grins up at me while sweeping the plastic frames of her glasses back over her eyes. “Darling, please. I don’t sweat. I glisten like a delicate flower. OrBeyoncé. Whichever one sounds sexier.”

“Oh my God.” I laugh, rocking my head in disbelief.

Leaving her in her little fantasy, I turn to the very end of the patio, the loop that holds the grill and the man at its helm.

Lachlan is a god forged in sweat and smoke. His shirt clings to him, gray fabric soaked through across the hard slabs of his chest. It’s tight over his shoulders, tugging and stretching with every motion.

As if I’m not already struggling, his big, scarred fists twist into the hem of his top and he drags it up over his head with a single fluid motion. He swipes it across his brow and the back of his neck before it’s tossed carelessly to the side. The artwork across all that beautiful skin flexes as he reaches for the tongs again.

He flips a burger with a flick of his wrist, his brows drawn in concentration. His mouth thins into a firm, unsmiling line that should not be as magnetic as it is. That quiet intensity rolls off him in heavy waves, soaking into my skin until I feel dizzy from it.

Then, just like this morning, his chin tips up. Rich brown eyes lift through heavy lashes and find me. They slide over me with the weight of a possessive hand dragging up the exposedlength of my legs to stop at my mouth. My skin prickles under the heated scrutiny. My heart gallops.

But I bottle it all down. I stuff it into the jar that holds the rogue feelings I’m not allowed to feel and screw the lid on. Then I chuck them into the river just like Mom used to tell me to.

“Wanting things is natural as long as you keep them to yourself. Not everyone will understand your feelings and you can’t let yourself be the topic of conversation.”

There’s no one to see my moment of weakness. Lauren is lost in her phone and Lachlan is as guilty as I am, but I can’t let either of us get used to this behavior. We each have a role to play and Jefferson doesn’t believe in improvising.

I force a smile.

“Hello, Mr. Shaw. Can I help?” I ask, my voice light, but I can feel the slight tremble of the words hanging between us.

Lachlan gives a barely perceptible shake of his head. The tongs jiggle in his grip. His gaze flicks up again and stops at my empty hands.

“Zucchini?”

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