Page 91 of That Conflicted Feeling
I’dnever imagined falling for a suit-wearingCEO—or for anyone at all, really.Neverimagined experiencing that instant connection when you look in someone’s eyes, whether they twinkle or not, and connect with something deep behind them.Neverimagined being so stimulated by someone’s mind as well as their body.
Iopen the register and count outCarly’spay for the week.Lordknows how much longerIcan keep doing this.Asit is, the shop doesn’t have the margins for me to keep paying her and the higher rent and to fix the furnace and the rotten shed at home.Godhelp me once theYellowBarnopens and steals a bunch of our customers.
Ikeep telling myself that, logically, it’s better thatI’mout of theMaxthing sooner rather than later.IfI’dgone on kidding myself it could work, it would only have been more painful when it inevitably didn’t.
Tellingme he didn’t want to give me up while he was all caught up in his small-town adventure is one thing.Makingit work after he’d left town and returned to hisManhattanlife would have been a whole different story.
Butstill, every timeIthink about it, it’s like a cold blade stabs into my chest and slices down to my stomach.
Igrab an envelope from the counter drawer and tuckCarly’spay inside.
Ican’t shake off the constant gnawing in my stomach.SincewhatCarlynow refers to asTheFarmers’MarketMeltdown,I’veonly been able to pick at food, and sleep has been a rare treat.
EverytimeItry, my brain defaults toMax’seyes whenIfirst looked up at him asIlay in a heap on the sidewalk.Orhim sitting in the muddy goat enclosure with that cute and sexy smile on his face as he bottle-fed the kid.Orhis mouth between my legs asIsprawled at his mercy on those butter-soft white sheets at the island house.
Itake a deep breath and pull back my shoulders. “I’mmainly upset thatMom’shands are hurting.Shewas going to try to get ahead with prepping herbs for the soap while she sits and rests her leg, but now she can’t even do that.”
“Oh,Christ,” saysCarly. “Thatmust drive her nuts.”
“Yup.Andshe drives me nuts with how nuts it drives her.Anyway, take this.”Ihand her the envelope. “Makethe most of it while the shop’s still here andIcan still pay you.”
Sheruns her fingers around the edge of the envelope. “Younever know, we might survive it.”
Isnort and shake my head. “Comeon,I’llgive you a ride home.I’mgoing your way this evening.Needto pick up something on the way back.”
* * *
Thegrab bar, brackets, and screws stare up at me from the bathroom floor.
Mom’sbeen having trouble getting on and off the toilet with the cast on her leg, so it’s time to seize the moment.Sheneeds it to help her on bad arthritis days anyway, but she’d never let me install one for that reason.She’dsee it as a sign of the beginning of her decline.ButifIcan get this thing in under the guise of the broken leg, then it’ll be a winner.
Shewas napping on the sofa whenIgot back, soIsneaked by and thoughtIcould present her with the finished, fully installed handle by the time she wakes up.
Greatidea,Ithought.
HowcleverIam,Ithought.
It’llgive my brain something to do other than play reruns ofMax’svibrant smile, magnetic eyes, shoulders, thighs, and, well, everything,Ithought.
Mythoughts were all stupid.
HowcouldIpossibly think it would be that easy?
I’venever had any problem setting my mind to a task and getting it done.I’vealways worked on the basis thatIcan figure out anything ifItry hard enough.
Well, on this occasion, it turns out that thought is stupid too.
Islide my back down the tiled wall till my butt hits the floor and read the instructions again.
First, you need to find the wall studs.There’sa bunch of my dad’s old tools in the shed, butI’veno idea if there’s a stud finder among them.Orhow to use one if there is.
Thenyou need to drill holes.
Ofcourse, you do.
There’sdefinitely a drill out there.ButI’venever used it withoutDadfiguring out exactly the right spot and pointing at it for me.I’mnot in the least bit qualified to single-handedly make holes in the walls of the family home.
Myeyes sting and the instructions start to blur.
