Page 100

I dump another spoon of sugar into my coffee and smile into my cup as I mix just a touch more cream into the brew. Mabel had been tough this morning. She’d wanted to snooze in and ditch the responsibilities of the day. Alas, I’d dragged her booty out of bed and all the way to daycare. Thankfully, Owen rode his bike to school now that the days are warmer, so that was one less drop-off. I’d have stopped in at Cherry’s, but that would have definitely made me late.

Thanks to my daughter, I entered the office with two minutes to spare. Holt glared hotly at me, to which I responded by flashing him what I hoped was a radiant smile. I’m not so sure it was, considering the way his face darkened and that constant grumpy cloud over his head crackled with lightning before he turned and stormed his stormy self back into the office.

“Do you want some coffee with all that crap you put in your cup?” On a miracle, I manage not to jump at the sound of his rough voice so close.

How hadn’t I noticed his approach? I always know when Holt is close. It’s like I have Holt radar, and any time he’s within eye-balling distance, the sirens start to blare.

“Nope.” Hugging my mug with my hands, I turn. He’s so close, my heart does a leapy thing in my chest. I lean my booty into the counter. I could slide to the side to escape him…but I don’t want to. I take a sip of my creamy sweet coffee and moan. His eyes darken, and my pitch drops to an unintentional kind of husky when I add, “I like it just like this.”

His eyes sweep my face. Prickles of heat erupt over my skin. My belly twists itself into knots that it really shouldn’t be tying.

A memory of Tate flashes in my mind. Ugly confliction claws at my heart.

I clear my throat and slide out from between Holt and the coffee counter just as the bells jingle on the door and Tanner strolls inside.

I manage a chirpy “Morning,” that must sound off because his brows furrow as he looks at Holt, me, and back to Holt.

I can’t make myself dare a peek at Holt, so I dip my chin and scurry, as well as one can scurry in heels, to my desk.

I take another sip of my sugary sweet coffee for courage before I force myself to look at the men. They’re locked in what I imagine a modern-day duel might look like.

Tanner drops his hands to his hips, stretching his T-shirt over a hard chest. All Holt has to do is stand tall and straight, his extra inches giving him the appearance of looking down on Tanner.

What the heck is going on?

“Ahem.” I clear my throat. “I got a visit from Mrs. Kepler last thing on Friday.” It takes a moment, but Tanner pulls his gaze from Holt’s. He gives it to me, and I relax just a little. “Looks like it’s really a go. I’ve squeezed her into the schedule first thing tomorrow morning.”

Tanner sways his body away from Holt as he starts for me. “I’m supposed to be on the Picker’s house tomorrow.”

“I think Craig can handle the Picker’s house for the few hours it’ll take you and Luke to rip up Mrs. Kepler’s floor.” I give Tanner a smile and feel something unsettling pinch around my heart as that dark storm cloud from Holt stretches to try and sweep me up in its vast darkness. I ignore it. “We want to get a move on that before she backs out. Again.”

“Did you order her new flooring?” Tanner asks, leaning into my desk.

“It’s coming in Wednesday.”

Tanner cocks a grin. His eyes doing that thing that should have my heart melting as they roam slowly over my face. Even Andy says Tanner is a wet dream. She claims she’d have moved in on him, if he didn’t look at me like he looked at me.

I just wish it made me feel something. Anything.

Maybe Andy is right, and I’m just not giving him enough of a chance.

But Holt makes me feel a lot of things. Knotted and twisty things. Melty and prickly things.

I’m confident that unlike Tanner, Holt isn’t trying.

“You’re a miracle worker, Faye.”

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” I set my coffee onto my desk as I straighten to pluck up a pen. I toy with the clicker on the top before I scan my calendar for an install window. I frown. “You’re busy the rest of the week.”

“Not busy Saturday.”

I don’t look up. “You’re willing to work Saturday?”

“Willing to work Saturday day,” Tanner says. I start to scribble him in and pause when he rumbles, “But I’d like to take you out Saturday night.”

My eyes lift to Tanner. My smile wobbles, just a little. Holt makes a noise that makes me think maybe he sees it.

I force some brightness I don’t feel into my smile. Tanner’s eyes drop to my lips. Something pinches my heart. It’s not pleasant. But Tanner is a good man, and he is good to my kids. They love Uncle Tanner, because he was Tate’s closest friend.