Page 44 of Overtime Positions
I was wanted.
Seen.
And my kids were seeing the difference in me without even knowing the cause. Which only gave me the confidence I needed to make sure I kept my guard down and my heart open. Because I’d do anything for my kids.
I had already survived the worst to make them happy; I could do this.
Halfway to the bakery in town, my phone buzzed with a text, and I glanced at it when I stopped in the parking lot.
Travis
Still thinking about the way you moaned my name. Good luck getting through your day, Shade. Think of me at some point too.
I smirked so hard I almost looked like a clown as I walked into the shop, instead of a moody, aloof black cat.
Weird.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled down the long driveway to the mansion on the lake, tucked back into the woods that he was building. He didn’t know I was coming, that was the fun of it.
As soon as I saw the monstrosity, I was mesmerized by Travis's talent in crafting such a beautiful masterpiece by hand. The oversized beams and floor to ceiling windows were breathtaking.
Forcing myself to be braver than I felt, I parked behind a flatbed truck, balancing two boxes of coffee and a tray of bakery goodies, praying my boots wouldn’t get stuck in the mud.
The second I stepped out around the truck, I found my target out of the dozens of other bulky men on site. Travis was up on scaffolding, flannel sleeves pushed up, tool belt slung low on his hips, and sawdust clinging to his hands like glitter.
Man glitter.
He didn’t see me at first, too focused on leveling the beam on his shoulder, so I silently watched the show. His forearms flexed as he hefted it into place, his strength an insane wonder to watch.
God, he looked good enough to ruin.
The job site had gotten quiet around us, and he clued in, looking down from his perch and finding me instantly. And when he did—the look on his face wasprimal.
He hadn’t expected to see me, but now that he did, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was leaving untouched.
“Morning, Saw,” I called up, lifting the tray and coffee. “Thought you could use a pick-me-up.”
He stared at me for a second, down to the coffee, then right back up at me, but slower this time. “You’re the pick-me-up.”
My thighs clenched involuntarily as I glanced around at the men watching on in open fascination.
He climbed down, all slow and deliberate moves of power and strength, stalking toward me. Sweat glistened at the temples, barely touching his dark hair under his ball cap, which only added to the rugged manliness of his appearance.
The look in his eyes was obvious as he approached me.
Trouble.
Delicious, sawdust-covered, six-and-a-half-foot tall trouble.
“Are you coming over to say thank you?” I asked, biting my lip.
He didn’t answer.
Travis took the burden from my hands, set it on the open tailgate next to me and backed me up against it in one smooth motion.
“You came all this way just to tease me?” He asked, voice low and menacing.
“I came because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your text just solidified my plans.”
