My Skylar (32 page)

landed. She had rented a car at the airport and went straight to a home improvement store to pick

out paint. I’d already given her a copy of the floor plan, so we weren’t wasting time.

The keys to the beach house were burning a hole in my pocket. I’d take her there tonight after

our work ended for the day. I couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

The weather was perfect, so we kept the front door to the property open while we worked to let

the balmy, dry breeze in. The house smelled like sawdust and primer, so it was good to air it out.

My guys had made great progress before I arrived, and everything was on target to be completed

by the end of the week.

A Steely Dan song played on an old boom box that was splattered with white paint. There were

empty beer bottles everywhere. Technically, we weren’t supposed to be drinking on the job, but I

let it slide this time. This job couldn’t have been more different from all previous ones. Case in

point: every head in the place turned toward the doorway when Skylar walked in. She waved

awkwardly when she realized the guys were all checking her out.

She wore a short, gray skirt and a sleeveless blouse that had a bow in the front that begged to

be untied. She looked very business-like, which was a huge turn-on. That get-up was like a grown-

up version of the Catholic school uniform.

I introduced her to all the guys and tried to ignore the once-overs they gave her as she shook

their hands. What I did make sure to catch was the once-over she gave
me
. I was wearing beige cargo pants and no shirt. I couldn’t really tell what Skylar was thinking lately when it came to

everything else. The one thing I did know: she was as physically attracted to me as I was to her.

She flinched when I put my hand on the small of her back and led her into the first completed

room. “You made it in good time.” I reluctantly slid my hand slowly off of her.

“Yeah. I was actually able to find some neutral paint colors in the bargain mistake section, so

that will free up some money for other things.”

I hadn’t realized how obvious my staring was until she interrupted it.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah. Paint, right?”

“Yes. We should be all set. I put the gallons out front whenever you’re ready for them. I marked

each can with a label indicating which room it’s for.”

“You’re so organized. You want a full time job when we get back?” I joked.

“And what would that be?”

I wiggled my eyebrows. “You can be my personal assistant.”

She looked down at my hands that were covered in primer. “And what exactly would that

entail?”

“It requires full-time residency, actually.”

“Oh…in your house?”

“Yeah.”

“I see. What else?”

“There’s sort of a dress code.”

“Let me guess…a lack of dress?” She laughed.

I fucking loved flirting with her.

I hadn’t intended for this conversation to veer in the direction it had, but this was a good sign.

It surprised me that she was playing along…until she cut it short.

“I should head to the fabric store.”

“Hey. You know I’m playing around with you. I promise to be good this trip.”

She smiled. “I hear you.”

I leaned against the doorway and as she walked away, I said, “Unless you tell me you want me

to be bad. I’d be up for that, too.”

She turned around briefly, her face flushed. “Goodbye, Mitch.”

Getting through the next fifteen minutes without killing someone seemed like an impossible

task because all of the guys wouldn’t shut up about how hot she was. They didn’t know anything

about our past, although they should have put two and two together based on the massive tattoo

of her name on my chest. Getting arrested for assaulting an employee was not on my list of things

to do while here, so I gritted my teeth and controlled my fists as best as I could.

It really did impress me how fast Skylar operated that first day. She decided she’d make all the

curtains herself to stay within budget, borrowing a sewing machine from the wife of one of the

local volunteers. She came back that afternoon with a massive amount of material and planned to

spend the entire day tomorrow sewing at the beach house. She also visited a local consignment

shop and scored some artwork for next to nothing.

That night, we worked later than I had hoped in order to stay on deadline, but it would be the

only late work night. By the time 10:00 rolled around, I was exhausted but exhilarated, knowing

she’d be following me to the beach house. I threw my navy hoodie over my bare chest.

She was hanging a couple of pictures on the wall of a room that had been fully painted. Her

hair, which was perfectly coiffed earlier in the day, now fell loose and messy.
Sexy.
It was how I’d imagined it would look after sex.
Fuck.
I needed to get that thought out of my head before I got hard.

“Ready to go?” I asked.

Too late. Hard.

She stepped down from the stool. “Sure.”

Skylar followed me in her car. When I pulled up to the rental, my palms got sweaty because the

place was a shitload nicer than expected. She would have a tough time believing that this was the

house HM Construction paid for. Every red cent had come out of my own money.

We parked next to each other on the gravel driveway and got out.

She slammed the car door. The ocean air blew her hair around in wispy strands. She spit one

out of her mouth. “What is this?”

“What do you think?”

“What’s going on?”

I must have looked guilty as shit. “What?”

“This house is—”

“Let’s go in.”

I reached into my pocket for the key and opened the front door.

Her jaw dropped. “Okay…this is like that show
Cribs
on MTV minus the ten cars out front.

Exactly how much money did your company spend on this place?”

“I shut the door. We got a good deal. Don’t worry about it.”

She dropped her bag lazily and walked around in awe. “This kitchen is way better than mine at

home.” She ran her fingertips along the granite of the countertop. “I’m gonna make a nice meal

for us tomorrow night.”

Fuck. Yes.

“That sounds great.”

She covered her mouth and walked in silence over to the one thing I had been waiting for her

to notice. She sat down on it. I walked over and joined her on the plush cushion. She turned to

me. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“Did what?”

“You picked this place out and paid for it, didn’t you?”

I sighed. “I did.”

“Why?”

Our faces were just inches apart. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen one day from the next

with you, and I hate not being able to control that. I just wanted to have some time with you in

the best possible place I could imagine. When you were sick, I never forgot where you told me your

happy place would be: a reading nook overlooking the ocean. When I saw online that this house

had one, I didn’t give a shit what it cost. I knew I had to get this one for you.”

She lay back into the wall, kicked her feet up onto my lap and closed her eyes. She opened

them and looked out at the waves crashing in the distance. “I don’t know what to say. I feel like I don’t deserve this.”

“This is for me, too.” I looked out the window. “Do you remember where my happy place was?”

She nodded. “Anywhere I am.”

I lightly squeezed her shin. “I just want to be with you even if it’s just for a few days. No other expectations, okay? Please don’t worry about that. I want you to have a good time.”

“Was any part of this trip really about the job?”

I couldn’t lie to her. “What do you want me to say?”

“Where are you staying?”

“The Holiday Inn down the street.”

She looked conflicted. “I know there’s plenty of room, but I can’t offer you to stay.”

“I understand, believe me. I would never expect that.”

“This is wrong, Mitch. This whole thing: my lying to Kevin, my taking this offer when I knew

deep down it was more than work.”

“Don’t you dare feel guilty, Skylar. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve this break

even if it’s nothing more than that.”

“I just wanted to spend time with you, too. I don’t know what it all means.”

It pained me to have to lift her leg off of me and stand up. “Tell you what, it’s been a long day.

I’m going to head back to the hotel and let you get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll call it quits with

work early, do dinner and enjoy the beach. Don’t overthink this. We only live once. If we want to

spend time together, that’s not a sin. Nobody’s getting hurt by that.”

She stood up. Her blouse was wrinkled and halfway untucked. She was a beautiful mess.

I licked my lips, wanting to kiss her so badly. “Make sure you lock up tonight.”

“I appreciate all of the effort you put into this. I hope I didn’t come across as ungrateful.” She

walked a few steps toward me. “I never thought I’d actually get to visit my happy place. Thank you

for giving that to me.”

If I didn’t walk away now, I’d never leave. I headed straight for the door. Then, I turned to look

at her one last time. “Thank you for giving me mine.”

***

now drywalled and painted. Skylar had spent the entire day shopping for décor or at the beach

house sewing drapes. I missed her. I kept checking my watch to see how close it was to 3:00.

I got to my hotel at 3:15 and took a quick shower. As the hot water beat down on me, my

thoughts turned anxious. I only had four more nights with her. This trip was my chance to get her

to see that we belonged together. But I promised her there were no expectations, and I didn’t plan

to pressure her. I just wanted us to get closer organically, but there just wasn’t enough time.

Skylar was expecting me at 4:00. She was making dinner, and we were going to take a walk on

the beach at some point. I was giddy with excitement and a need to see her, to smell her, to touch

her even if it were just a brush of her hand.

I put on a black button down shirt and some dark jeans. I sprayed on cologne and slicked my

hair back with gel.

When I arrived at the rental, she opened the door, and my heart immediately started beating

out of control. She looked good enough to eat in a tiny peach-colored dress. I wanted to wrap her

in her my arms but instead tightened my fists and said, “You look nice.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

I walked toward the kitchen. “What is that I smell?”

“It’s Chicken Cacciatore. I remembered you used to like it when your mother made it. I hope

this is just as good.”

“If you made it, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“Are you hungry now?”

My eyes drifted down to her mouth and then her neck. “I’m starving.” I wondered if she could

tell I wasn’t referring to the food.

Her heels clicked against the tile floor as she walked over to a bottle of red wine on the

counter, opened it and poured it into two stemless glasses. “Cabernet okay?”

“Love it. Thanks,” I said, taking the glass from her and making sure to skim the skin of her

hand. I took a sip. “Mmm.”

“You want to take these up to the deck?”

“Yeah, I’m dying to get up there to see that view.”

She smiled and nudged her head to follow her. “Come on.”

Two white Adirondack chairs sat on the gray wooden deck that overlooked Sandbridge Beach.

It was like they were made for the two of us to sit in. We sat down and quietly sipped our wine. We gazed out at the rolling waves and listened to the sound of the seagulls. I stole glances at her

beautiful side profile.

She was the first to speak. “So, I say we sit out here for about ten minutes, have dinner

downstairs, then take that beach walk when the sun is setting.”

“Perfect.”

Nothing could be more perfect than this.

And it was, until reality rang when we got downstairs. She picked up her cell phone. I knew by

the tone of her voice that it was him. I walked over to the window, so she wouldn’t be

uncomfortable. I listened to every word and stared out into the ocean. The reminder that she was

engaged to someone else took my appetite away and slapped me out of the fantasy I’d been living

out just a moment ago.

“Yeah. Everything’s going great. It’s beautiful here. Saturday. My flight gets in at four-thirty.”

My jaw tightened just thinking about leaving Saturday. I polished off my wine.

“Did you remember to buy Seamus’ food? Good. Okay. Me, too. Bye.”

Me, too.

I wondered if he had told her he loved her. Did she not say it back to avoid hurting my feelings

or because she didn’t really love him?

She walked over to me. A new tension replaced the relaxed atmosphere of five minutes ago.

“That was Kevin.”

“You should have given him my regards.”

“Mitch…”

“Oh, that’s right. ‘He’d go ballistic.’” I walked over the counter, refilling my empty glass. “Is

that because he’d know he has a reason to worry?”

She didn’t say anything, and I regretted putting her in that position.

I put my glass on the counter and rubbed my eyes in frustration. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand. Let’s just try to have a nice dinner, okay?”

“I would love that.”

We fell into an easy conversation while devouring the meal she made: Chicken Cacciatore with

a side of lemon garlic Brussels sprouts.

“This is by far the best Cacciatore I’ve ever had.”