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Busy hums, and that’s when I realize how close we are. Inches apart, my body hovering just behind hers. God, I can smell her, something floral and bright. Maybe it’s perfume or her shampoo or some kind of lotion. I can’t tell. All I know is it smells delicious.
When Busy turns, looking up at me, a smile still on her face, I can’t help the way my eyes dip, taking in that scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the tiny dimple on the right side of her mouth, the slight crease at the center of her plump lip.
What is this…possession that comes over me when she’s near? This inability to think straight when we’re within feet of each other? All I can imagine is what it would be like to reach out and bring her in against my chest. Move her petite body flush with mine, feel her softness pressed against me.
I swallow thickly, my brain conjuring images of what it would be like if I could just…bend down and press my lips to hers. I dip just slightly, my eyes glued to her mouth, and I know I don’t imagine it when her chin tilts up just a bit.
But you can’t, a quiet voice whispers.You promised.
Gritting my teeth, I step back, putting space between us, repeating the same words over and over in my head like a chant.
You promised.
You promised.
You promised.
Busy clears her throat then steps further into Junie’s room, and I watch as she slowly maneuvers her daughter, releasing her little hands from Sydney’s fur one at a time before carrying her carefully to her bed. Sydney hops up then and walks out of the room, coming to my side.
“Well, we’ll get out of your hair,” I say quietly, patting Sydney on the head.
Busy tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear as she steps out of Junie’s room, shutting the door softly behind her. Then she spins around and smiles, though some of the lightness that was in it just a few minutes ago is missing.
“Have a good night, Reid.”
I don’t linger any longer, even though I wish there were something I could say to eliminate the weird tension that’s suddenly hovering in the air. Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s anything you can say to someone after you almost kiss them but don’t to make the situation easier. You just kind of have to let it…be.
Like I told Jeremiah, Busy’s a single mom. She doesn’t need someone trying to get into her pants, and the truth of my life is that I wouldn’t be able to give her more than just a good time. And eventhatisn’t something I should be doing.
I know I made the right choice by pulling away, keeping myself from making such a huge mistake. But at the same time, as I crawl into bed later that night, my belly full of neon pasta and the space next to me cold and empty, I can’t help but wish things were different.
“Sydney.” I pat the space next to me, knowing I’m breaking my own rules by calling her over to snuggle. She’s there in a flash, plopping down at my side, resting her head on my stomach.
Eventually, I fall asleep, but not until I’ve played and replayed my moment with Busy over and over again, wishing I didn’t always feel the need to dothe right thing.
Because making a mistake with Busy Mitchell sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.
I bring the circular saw down and slip the wood along the rotating blade, slicing off the live edge. It clatters to the ground, though the sound doesn’t register over the whine of the blade and the protective earwear I have on. Flipping the wood around, I measure then do the same with the other edge.
As much as I enjoy any kind of woodworking, there’s a certain kind of sadness I feel when I take a slab as beautiful as this one and cut off a live edge. Mostly because I think it adds a bit of character and personality that a 90-degree angle doesn’t provide, but also because it isn’t the wayIwould do it if it were up to me.
But that’s the thing about taking on clients who want custom projects. The final result has to betheirvision, not mine. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.
Movement at my side pulls my attention, and I glance toward the open rolling door that faces the parking lot, grinning when I spot Nick stepping inside. I hold up one finger then make quick work of cutting the other two edges before shutting down my saw and tugging off my headphones.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?”
Nick nods. “Good. Here about the leather chairs we talked about.”
“Yeah, gimme a sec to move these and wash my hands, then we can chat?”
I hoist the two slabs of wood over my shoulder and take them over to the large shelves I have set up against the wall, sliding them in place in the area I have labeled for this particular project. Then I head to the work sink and wash up.
“Okay,” I say, leading Nick into my office. I pat Sydney on the head where her bed is set up next to my desk, take a seat, then wake my computer. “Remind me again what this is for?”
“Ellis wants new chairs for the lounge area buildout at Dock 7.”
I nod. “That’s right.”
