Page 18 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, his tone teasing.

“And I better not find you pawing through my things.”

He made it a point to look me up and down. “I’ve already pawed through all of your things.”

I gulped. Was he referring to the distant memories of our teenage years, or was there a more recent incident he was alluding to? “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “I meant your bag,” he clarified, grinning at my reaction. “When I put it in my saddlebag.”

I felt foolish for letting my mind wander into dangerous territories, and nodded curtly, swallowing the embarrassment. “Oh. I was going to start painting my bedroom but realized I needed a few things.”

“Don’t paint anything,” he said. “I need to check for rot and mold. If that ceiling was leaking, we might need to take it down to the studs.”

“Excuse me?” I wasn’t sure if this was another double entendre. I didn’t get it.

He chuckled, his eyebrows lifting as he observed my puzzled expression. “Not innuendo, sweetheart,” he explained. “I’ve got to look over the structure beneath the plaster. If there’s water damage, we’ll need to take it down to the wooden framing—the studs—before we can fix anything.”

My eyes widened in horror at his words. “But that’s huge!”

I realized the moment I said the word he was going to take it the wrong way.

The cocky grin said as much. “Restoration work is always a big job, which is why I’m the right man for it.”

I groaned, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

He walked to the door, then stopped to look back at me. “A few of us are grabbing drinks tonight. You should come. See some familiar faces.”

I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

His eyes searched mine, like he was trying to read between the lines of my refusal. Finally, he shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

I didn’t watch him leave. I didn’t let myself. Instead, I focused on the house, on the overwhelming task ahead of me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Kannon’s presence in my life again was about to make things a whole lot more complicated.

9

KANNON

Igunned the engine and rolled out of her driveway. I couldn’t help but glance back at the old house. In all honesty, the place looked pretty sorry. But then again, I liked a good challenge. Besides, it wasn’t the house that had me excited, it was the occupant.

The stubborn, fiery woman that I used to give noogies to right after she brushed her hair. The girl I used to tease incessantly just to make her angry so she would argue with me. I loved getting her fired up.

God, what a piece of work she was.

In school, she’d made my heart flip and my chest hurt just by walking into a room. She was still as stunning as ever. Maybe even more so if I factored in all those new curves she developed.

I drove down the road with my mind replaying our conversation. The way she had looked at me with those fiery eyes. I could tell she was trying to keep me at arm’s length, but I also sensed an undercurrent of something else. After all these years, there was still something between us. A spark maybe or a mutual gravitational pull that neither of us could deny or escape from. We had been the best of friends for a long time. She had been my other half. Losing her had left a huge hole in my life.

And now she was back. I didn’t know how to deal with that.

I headed for the bar, a little disappointed she declined my invitation. But I supposed she had outgrown all of us here. I knew she had a life in Miami. I imagined she spent her time in swanky lounges and clubs. She wouldn’t dare step foot in the bar Riggs owned. It was far from fancy. Hell, it was barely tolerable. I didn’t want to think about what the health department would find if they did a real inspection.

The bar buzzed with the usual sound of clinking bottles, rowdy conversations, and the occasional outburst of laughter. It was the kind of background noise that should’ve been soothing after a long day but it wasn’t. I was irritable. Nothing new there.

I leaned back in my chair, my boot hooked over the rung, nursing a beer I wasn’t really tasting. My mind felt busy. Loud and chaotic. The beer wasn’t going to do it. The whiskey was about the only thing that worked these days.

Familiar faces, familiar noise. None of it settled the restless itch under my skin. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt off. Like there was something I should be doing. Or maybe it was guilt. I couldn’t explain what was wrong with me. I was just out of sorts.