by Jodie Larson
They don’t stay dark for long as I cover up with the clothes he selected. A wave of relief washes over his face. You’d think he didn’t want to have sex with me right now. But, he’s focused on the task at hand, which is making me suffer with manual labor.
“Ready?” he asks, clearing his throat.
“Not yet.” I walk up to him and reach under my shirt to unclasp my bra. In a very Rachel Green Friends move, I take it off through the sleeve of my shirt and hold it up to his face before dropping it to the floor. “Now I am.”
I don’t wait to hear his response, though a very low “Minx” was growled behind me as I entered the hallway.
No one said that I play fair either.
Tying my hair up in a messy knot, I wait for Brecken to explain what exactly we’re about to do.
With a raised brow, he eyes me up and down. “You ready for this?”
I rub my hands together. “As I’ll ever be. What are we doing?”
He walks out of the room and comes back with a sledge hammer. “I told you, dirty work.”
“You’re going to have to elaborate because obviously my mind was going elsewhere when you said that before.”
Brecken chuckles and thrusts the wooden handle into my hands. The weight is surprising; I was expecting it to be a little heavier. It always seems like women on TV make a huge deal with picking these things up. “We’re gonna knock out that wall.” He slides a pair of safety glasses on my head and kisses the tip of my nose.
Standing behind me, he wraps his hands around mine, positioning them on the handle of the hammer. “You’ll want to have a good grip, so you don’t let go.” He kicks my feet apart. “And a good stance so you’ll get a good swing.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Breck leans close to my ear. “Now, aim for the center of the X.”
Looking over my shoulder, I roll my eyes. “Duh.”
I wait until he backs up before hoisting the hammer up in the air.
“Hold on.” Walking over to the doorway, I stop and face the living room. “Alexa, play 80’s hair bands.”
She responds and music instantly fills the room. Def Leopard blares through the speakers. Brecken laughs when I retake my stance, exactly as he showed me.
“Needed some inspiration?”
I shake my head. “No, just some demo music.”
The hammer easily breaks through the drywall, creating a gaping hole in the wall.
“Very nice,” he says. “Now, do it again.”
I smile and swing again, letting my hips do a little more dancing than required. Pieces of drywall rain down as we get to the chorus of the song. This is more fun than I thought it would be.
When the hole is about four feet around, Brecken hands me a set of gloves and takes the hammer from me. “You ready?”
I shake my head and take a step back. “Nah, I think I’ll watch you work for a while.”
With my new vantage point, I take a very short second to appreciate the man in front of me. Damn those jeans make his ass look great. Even more so when he reaches up and grabs a piece of drywall and yanks it to the ground.
“You’re looking very Jonathan Scott-ish right now.”
He pauses and looks at me over his shoulder. “So you’re saying I’m insanely good looking?”
I nod. “Definitely.” I walk over and wrap my arms around his waist. “Especially with all that white dust in your hair. Makes me think of what you’ll look like in a few years.”
Breck barks out a laugh. “I’m not that old.”
“But when you are, you’ll be hot.” I reach up and brush some of the dust off him, which only makes it fall onto me. “And don’t you dare say something about how the white makes my hair look. Silver is sexy on guys. Women, not so much.”
“Whatever you say, dear.” He points to a section of drywall next to me. “Help me get this down so we can move to the other side.”
We make quick work of the kitchen side and walk around to tape plastic to the floor in the living room. The last thing we need is to redo what we’ve already done. We repeat the process until the only thing that’s left is the studs and a few wires.
“There. All done.”
I look down at myself and laugh. “And successfully dirty.”
Alexa switches the song and, as if she knew exactly what to play, puts on Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me.”
I know the look on Brecken’s face. It’s a look I crave more and more. He walks quickly to the front door and locks it. “Just to be on the safe side.”
Always thinking of everything.
Within a blink, I’m tugged down the hallway and pressed into the bathroom.
“Time to get clean.”
Yes, yes it is.
“Are you serious? Come on, man. You told me I was on the schedule.” I pace the living room, trying to rein in my temper.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have you on our schedule this week. You sure your dates are correct?” Dean Winslow’s company is one of the best in home remodels, which is why I picked him after getting multiple recommendations. So far, the experience isn’t going well.
“Yes, I confirmed it with your secretary last week.”
“Cindy? She was let go on Friday.”
“I don’t give two shits if she was fired. She confirmed so I’m expecting your crew to be here today.”
I can’t fucking believe this. The goddamn construction company double booked themselves. Lizzie’s house is in turmoil. Again. I can’t keep displacing her and disrupting her life.
“Here’s the deal. I’ve already paid you in advance. I expect results.”
“Mr. Lavery, there’s nothing I can do. The Mayor’s been on our schedule for three months. We can’t bump him.”
I yank at my hair and close my eyes. “So now what? My girlfriend’s house has to stay destroyed until you can get there?” Technically she’s not my girlfriend, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not to mention it’d be weird to say I’m doing all of this for a girl who’s trying desperately to only think of me as a friend while she’s the center of my universe.
Paper shuffles in the background. “If we get the Mayor’s house done early, which we might be able to do, we can be there in three weeks. Otherwise, I’m sorry, but it’s at least a month.”
A month? Is he joking? “That’s not acceptable. I’d like my money back so I can get a different company.”
“Sir, you’d be hard-pressed to find another company who will take on a remodel on this short notice. And because you’ve already paid is the reason we’re able to fit you in so quickly.”
I take a seat on the couch and hang my head, bracing it against my propped-up hand. “Look, I don’t mean to be an asshole about this, but it’s frustrating when I’m being told two different things by your company.”
“And we apologize for that. The best we can do for you is be there in a month.”
What choice do I have? He’s right, I can’t hire anyone else, at least no one of good quality. And he’s highly recommended. Looks like I’m stuck.
“Fine. If you’re able to come sooner, I’d appreciate it. Otherwise, I guess I’ll be hearing from you in a month.”
“Again, Mr. Lavery, I apologize for the confusion.”
Yeah, I bet. I hang up the phone and toss it on the couch next to me. Pax walks into the room, shoving a mouthful of cereal into his face.
“What’s the word?”
Tilting my head back, I rest my forearm over my eyes like it’ll help the pounding ache that suddenly formed. “A month.”
“Are you kidding me? I thought they said this week?”
I shake my head. “Don’t even get me started on that. He was trying to pass it off on his fired secretary.”
“So now what?”
I remove my arm and throw my hands in the air. “I don’t know. But I tore up her house with the expectation that it’d be fixed within days. Now I have to tell her to wait a month before everything gets put back togethe
r.”
Pax looks over and smirks. “You can do it yourself.”
“Fuck that,” I say. “I can do flooring. I’m not touching the kitchen, especially when it’s a little more involved than installing cabinets.”
The bastard laughs and sets his bowl down. “Looks like you have some explaining to do.”
I groan and run my hands over my face. “Thanks for reminding me.”
With a quick check of my watch, I stand and head to my bedroom. I have six hours to figure out how to tell her that I fucked this up.
First things first…flowers. That will soften the blow.
A car door slams and I adjust one of the vases so it takes center stage on the coffee table. I didn’t think a dozen roses would be sufficient. Which is why I opted for two dozen and several other arrangements, all varying in color and size.
The minute she steps through the door, I freeze. Every time she enters a room, it takes my breath away. And it doesn’t even have to be about something significant. Her radiant face beams, showcasing her glowing personality. It’s what I’m relying on when I break the news to her.
“Hi, honey. Welcome home.”
Lizzie looks at the arrangement with a smile. “This is a nice surprise.” She drops her purse and keys onto the entry table and quickly closes the distance between us. Wrapping her up in my arms, I lean down and kiss her softly, careful not to put more meaning into it than she’s ready to accept.
“I figured you needed some flowers today.”
She pulls back, her face almost frozen in place. Sweat threatens to break out across my forehead while my palms dampen at her waist. She should have gone into law enforcement. A look like that would make anyone confess their wrongdoings.
“What’d you do?”
I scoff, trying to keep my cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Taking my hand, she drags me to the couch, sitting next to me with her leg propped between us. “There are very few reasons why a guy buys flowers.” She holds up her hand. “One, it’s their anniversary. And since we’re not dating, obviously that’s not it. Two, he’s done something wrong and needs to suck up. Three, he’s about to do something wrong and needs to suck up.” She ticks off the reasons on her fingers.
I chew on my bottom lip, desperately trying to hold back a laugh. “It’s hard to take you seriously with cartoon characters on your scrubs.”
A slight sting erupts across my shoulder. Damn, she has quite the backhand. “Focus!” It’s getting harder and harder not to laugh. Even more so when her lips keep twitching to hold back her own. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” This time I let out a chuckle. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Okay,” she says, drawing out the word. “Then who did?”
She’s in between amusement and annoyance. Time to face the music.
“Technically, it’s the construction company’s fault. They double booked and confirmed the wrong day. It’s not my fault.”
Her eyes widen with realization. “What exactly are you saying?”
Blowing out a quick breath, I steel myself for a fight. “You’re without a kitchen for a month.”
Silence.
Not sure if that’s better than yelling.
“Is that it?” Lizzie taps her knee with her thumb.
This is a trick question. She’s taking the news way too calmly. “Yes,” I say, tentatively.
“Oh, that’s not a big deal. I can still be in my house. It’s not like you’re completely displacing me.” She smirks. “It just means that you’re cooking all my meals now.”
I can live with that. “Deal.”
We shake on it but it’s not enough, so I tug her into my lap and dig my fingers into her hair, tilting her head just right.
“This is a deal that needs to be sealed with a kiss.” Her smile is the last thing I see before descending on her lips, savoring them before she hands herself over, letting me take control.
I’m not sure why she doesn’t think we belong together. Myles can’t be the whole reason. I know she’s a natural protector, fighting for what she believes in. But that’s what confuses me. Why isn’t she fighting for us?
Just as the thought enters my head, she pulls back with her brows drawn together. “What is it? I can practically hear you thinking from here.”
Can I tell her what I’m thinking without her flipping out or taking away what we have? The depth of compassion she has in her eyes say yes, but I know her mind better than she thinks. Lizzie will overthink things until it drives her mad.
I shake my head and cup her cheek, running my thumb along the crest. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life.”
She stiffens, hardly noticeable if she hadn’t been sitting on my lap. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. I mean, come on. You’ve known me since I was basically in diapers.” Lizzie crawls off my lap and puts some distance between us. Yep, exactly what I thought would happen. “We’ll always be friends, Breck.”
Not gonna lie. It hurts a little that she still could think of me as just her friend, considering everything we’ve shared and what we’ve divulged over the last few weeks. How can she admit she’s always had a crush on me and then say something like that? Her actions are not following her words.
But I want her too much to care right now. I told myself I’ll take her any way I can get her. If this is all I have right now, then it’ll be enough.
I don’t know who’s the bigger liar, me or her.
“Right.” I try hard to keep the chill out of my voice. She doesn’t need to know how her words affect me.
Needing to break the sudden tension, Lizzie jumps up and grabs my hand.
“Come help me change and then you can order in dinner.”
Don’t need to ask me twice.
Lizzie’s naked body is sprawled across my chest, her cheek pressing above my heart as she draws little circles over my collarbone. “How’s the album coming along?”
I lazily run my fingers through her hair, making sure to massage her scalp with each pass. “It’s funny because I loved the break we had after Lyric was born, but I’m so glad to be back in the studio. I was beginning to worry that my fingers would forget how to play.”
She sits up slightly, leaning her chin on her laced-up fingers. “Like that’d ever happen. I’m pretty sure you were born with a bass guitar in hand.”
“My poor mom,” I say, making her laugh.
“Not literally, you goob.” She looks away as her cheeks begin to flush.
What is she thinking?
“What?” She shakes her head and tries to bury her face into my chest. There’ll be none of that as I tilt her chin up to face me. “Tell me.”
Lizzie chews on her bottom lip. “I was just thinking about your hands playing your guitar.”
Ah, that’s what got her all hot and bothered.
“Really?” I shift so her head is in my lap as I prop myself up against the headboard. “You like watching me play?”
She nods. Hopefully she doesn’t do that too much because it’s taking everything I have not to awaken the beast beneath her. “It’s almost hypnotizing to watch because you do it so easily. Like you’re not even thinking about it.”
I snake a hand under the covers and start strumming my fingers against her stomach, playing a random song in my head. “Like this?”
Quiet giggles turn into an unladylike snort as I continue playing on her stomach.
“Oh, my God. Stop!” Lizzie twists her head from side to side, curling her knees into her body as a feeble attempt to get away. Yeah, that’s not happening.
Then I remember something.
“Alexa,” I call out. “Play ‘You Can Call Me Al’ by Paul Simon.”
She repeats my request and the minute the bass guitar sounds, my fingers go to work. Lizzie stops squirming and stares into my eyes. Those beautiful green globes draw me in, pulling me closer to her. I readjust our position, placing her on her back w
hile I prop myself up next to her, still strumming the chords against her skin. A few quakes and clenches greet me occasionally. Not sure if it’s from excitement or something else.
“Breck?” Her soft voice is like music to my ears, especially when she says my name.
“Yeah?” I lean down, leaving only millimeters of space between our lips.
Her eyes bounce between mine, searching for something. I stop my strumming and flatten my palm against her, running it slowly up until my fingertips graze the rounded globe of her breast.
She opens her mouth as her features soften. “I–”
Ding dong.
Fucking doorbell.
Knock, knock, knock.
Lizzie’s eyes widen as her face changes to something akin to panic.
Sheets fly off as Lizzie practically falls off the bed.
“Shit, where’s my shirt?” She runs around the bed, searching the floor.
Pulling on my boxers, I calmly walk over and grab her shoulders, stilling her movements. “Lizzie, calm down. Take a breath.” She follows my suggestion and deflates slightly. “You were still wearing your scrubs when you came home so you have to get something else on.” I walk her backward and sit her on the edge of the bed. “Stay.”
Another knock sounds. Lizzie’s on edge, getting all fidgety and tense.
“What if it’s Myles?”
I stiffen, gripping the yoga pants in my hand a little tighter than necessary. “And what if it is?”
Grabbing a shirt, I hand them over to her, schooling my reaction as best I can. This whole lying to my best friend is tearing me in two. Every ounce in me wants to shout to the rooftops that Lizzie is my girl, yet I can’t because she’s holding me hostage to some crazy worry that bad things will happen if we go public.
“Brecken, please. Not now.” She slides the clothes on and practically runs out the door, leaving me alone in her bedroom.
I make quick work of putting my clothes back on as quietly as possible while straining to hear any voices coming from the living room.
Another female voice. Thank God.
I walk out to find Tatum and Lizzie standing in what used to be her kitchen, speaking in hushed voices. Both stop and turn when I walk through the doorway.