Page 21 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
Her eyes drop, and I feel the slightest amount of guilt at my behavior. My instinct is to apologize, to smooth that crease of worry in her forehead away, to pull her into my arms. Which isn’t happening. Whichcan’thappen.
“But,” I admit after a moment, “Iwasmessing with you. A little bit anyway.”
“I knew it!” Her eyes light up again, and she offers up the very first real smile I’ve seen since I picked her up off the beach yesterday.
Her smile is like the pulled pin of a grenade. I am SO done for.
I manage to respond, keeping my voice light, as though she didn’t just slay me where I stand. “And I knew you didn’t know anything about tile, so …”
“Guess that was pretty obvious, huh?” Merritt shakes her head, a lock of dark hair falling across her cheek.
At one time, I wouldn’t have thought twice about tucking that hair behind her ear. Now, even though the urge feels completely natural, as instinctual as hunger or thirst, I can’t. I can’t touch her hair or let my fingertips graze her cheek. I can’t touch her at all for so many reasons. Not the least of which being: she has a boyfriend.
Simon. A perfect name for a man Sadie described just now asboring. I have trouble even thinking his name without sneering, which doesn’t make any sense. Merritt hasn’t been a part of my life in almost ten years. We were kids. Our feelings were … well—it doesn’t matter what they were. We’re adults now, and she’s a free woman. A grown, free woman who can date all the Simons she wants. I can’t be jealous ofSimon.
“Hunter?”
I realize I’m gripping the counter behind me so hard, my hands are cramping. I let go, stretching out my clenched fingers. “Sorry. I got lost in my thoughts.”
That much is true. Even if I won’t admit what thoughts are occupying my brain right now.
I run a hand over the beard I started growing when it became clear things between Cassidy and me weren’t going to work out. She never liked me with facial hair, so I never wore any, a small thing compared to all the other ways we didn’t match up. Despite my best effort to be the man I needed to be for her, for Isabelle, it was never enough.
And you never stopped loving someone else.
Yeah. As much as I don’t want to admit it—that too.
In the end, I kept the beard because it makes me look older. I’m twenty-six, which is young for a general contractor running his own business. I need all the help I can get.
“I’m sorry I messed with you about the tile,” I say, needing to talk so I don’t have to listen to my very loud thoughts. “It wasn’t very professional of me.”
She raises one dark brow. Slowly. She means it as a challenge, but probably not the kind my body takes it as.
“So, is that how it will be between us, Hunter?” she asks in a deceptively soft voice. “Professional?”
How can I answer that?
Yes—it needs to be professional because she has a boyfriend. And she made it clear years ago how she feels about living on this island. About me.
So why don’t those facts seem as relevant as I want them to be? Why am I fighting back the urge to take a step closer and see ifprofessionalis really whatshewants?
Simon, I remind myself.
“Professional,” I agree, though the tone of my voice seems to say just the opposite.
Merritt sighs, and whatever electric tension had been hanging in the air between us disappears.
“I’m sorry I pretended to know what I’m doing,” she says. “I don’t. None. House stuff is not my wheelhouse. I’m a little bit … lost.”
You think?But I say nothing because it’s like one layer of the Merritt wallpaper has been peeled back at the corner. I’m starting to see what’s underneath. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but I thrive on it. It’s amazing what you can learn from people when you’re comfortable being quiet.
“Considering that,” she continues, “how little I know, how is this going to work?” Her gaze holds mine, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth.
“This …?”
“Like, the contracting stuff. You and me discussing things. Making decisions. I assume I’m going to have to make some, right? How will it work?”
I havenoidea. Because right now,workis the last thing on my mind. With Merritt in my space, she is all I can think about. In very unprofessional, un-contractoring, andinconvenientways. My heart is conflicted, two opposing desires locked in a wrestling match and fighting for dominance. One half wants to remember every wound Merritt inflicted while the other wants to drag Merritt’s mouth to mine.
