Page 17

Chapter 16

W hat a fucking week it’s been. Nothing has gone according to plan. One problem after another has affected every job site. We're juggling three projects right now, and things are getting busier by the day. A warehouse delay has put one of the homes on hold because we’re still waiting on the materials needed to finish it.

To top it off, I can’t get Tessa out of my head. Just a taste, a hint of her sweetness, and I’m consumed by the need to claim her as my own. It’s only a matter of time before I get her exactly where I want her—underneath me, naked, screaming my name as she comes.

The way she ran out on me at the bar only piqued my curiosity. I contacted an old friend of mine, someone with access to the information I needed.

Tessa Sparks, twenty-eight, daughter of Dillon and Nancy Sparks from the Buckhead district in Atlanta. No siblings. She kept her head down in school, got good grades, and had no boyfriends in high school. She graduated in the top ten of her class, which had over three thousand students, earning a full scholarship to UGA. Not that she needed it, judging by her parents' wealth and the hefty trust fund her grandfather left her.

From all I can gather, the day she left Atlanta, she severed contact with her parents. She has no other close family or friends aside from Allie and a guy named Bryce Hayes, whom she met in college. There’s no record of any legal issues, not even a speeding ticket. The most interesting thing I found was the death of her first college boyfriend, nineteen-year-old Brady Collins. He was killed in a boating accident in Panama City Beach during spring break in her first year at UGA, with Tessa named as the sole witness. After that, she had a couple of short relationships, but mostly, she focused on her nursing degree. She graduated with honors before moving to Lake Falls a year ago.

She has little to no social media presence, though she appears in a few pictures on her friends’ accounts. Her current residence is just a few miles from my place. She’s an avid runner and volunteers a few hours a month at a local women’s shelter. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t been seeing anyone since she moved into town.

I wonder how much further things could’ve gone if those drunk assholes hadn’t interrupted us. And why the hell did she run off? I know she wanted me as much as I wanted her. I still want her. It’s her face and her body I’ve been jerking off to in the shower every day since.

I quickly change into jeans, a blue T-shirt, and work boots. I need to pick up some supplies from a couple of different stores. On top of work, I’ve got some ongoing projects at my own fixer-upper. When I first moved back, I stayed with Jace for a few months, then snagged a nice piece of property on the lake. I haven’t decided yet whether I want to keep it or sell it. I’m aiming for renovations that will appeal both to me and to a potential buyer.

I see countless Pinterest photos from homeowners every week with extravagant requests that are often unrealistic given their budget. Or they can afford it and decide mid-project to change the design. I don’t mind—I’ll be compensated either way, and so will my employees.

Currently, I’m in the middle of a full remodel of my primary bathroom shower. The old toilet, tub, cabinetry, and tile have all been ripped out. I’m just waiting for the new supplies to complete it.

About thirty minutes later, I pull into the home improvement store in Billings. It’s early, but the parking lot is already full. Parking my truck, I grab my wallet and phone, and head for the flooring section, hoping to find the perfect subway tile. I grab the durac, grout, and other supplies I need.

As I check my list and shift the items behind me, I realize there’s one more thing I still need. As I round the corner, a warm body unexpectedly collides with mine. I catch her by the shoulders to keep her from falling.

Startled grey eyes meet mine. “I’m so sorry,” Tessa stumbles, her cheeks turning a bright pink. She’s stunning, damn near a fucking dream come true. I can’t help but grin as I look down, taking in the view of her beauty from head to toe.

She’s wearing a green tank top, tiny denim shorts, and brown Gucci flip-flops, showing off her pretty pink toenails. Yeah, I know Gucci when I see it. My mom’s obsessed with shoes and probably has at least a thousand pairs.

“Well, hey there, Little Killer. Where’s the fire?” I drawl .

“Sorry about that,” she smiles sheepishly, her eyes shining with a natural brightness I haven’t noticed before. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Holding a handful of paint color samples, she looks a little embarrassed. “I’m trying to pick a color but can’t decide. It’s just a small home improvement project I’m working on. What brings you here? I figured you’d have people who shop for you.”

She knows what I do for a living. Interesting. She must’ve asked around about me.

“ I like getting my hands dirty,” I say, winking at her. “I’m picking up supplies for a project at my place, a remodel of my primary bathroom.”

“Those tile colors are beautiful,” she remarks, glancing behind me at the palette of items.

“You should see it when I’ve finished working my magic. These hands are good at many things,” I tease, watching her blush even deeper. Winning this girl over is going to be so much fun.

“So, about the other night—” she starts, then breaks off nervously. “I was a little tipsy and on edge. I can’t believe I pulled a knife on you. Sorry about that by the way. You startled me. And for what happened after... that’s not normal for me. I got caught up in the moment.” She says, her tongue sweeping out to moisten her lower lip. My gaze fixes on them like a moth drawn to a flame.

“Hey, no harm, no foul.” An easy smile spreads across my face. “Though I hated the way you ran off on me,” I add, my voice dropping to a low murmur.

She bites her lip nervously. “It’s just... I’m still new to town, and my career’s just taking off. My public image matters to the community and I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression of me.”

“I understand and have a solution to fix the problem,” I say smoothly. “How about a proper date, just the two of us?”

“A date?” she sputters before adding, “No, I don’t think so. I’ve already told you, I’m focusing on my career. I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I’m just offering to treat you to a nice meal. It doesn’t even have to be a ‘date,’” I reply smoothly, making air quotes with my fingers.

Her smile is slow, almost reluctant, and I can feel her resistance weakening with each passing moment. I’m curious to learn more about her—her personality, her likes and dislikes, what makes her tick. She’s not just a pretty face. I’m intensely drawn to her.

Glancing around, I notice no one paying attention to us so I lean in close, my breath warm on her skin, and whisper, “Come on? It’s just lunch. Two people having a meal together.”

As I speak, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she shivers, her whole body trembling slightly. The heat in her eyes is unmistakable, and I know she feels it too, and I can’t let her get away.

Indecision is written all over her face as she seems to wrestle with the thoughts running through her head.

“I don’t bite... unless you want me to,” I add playfully with a wink.

She rolls her eyes and continues to scrutinize my face. Is she scared of something? Afraid to let down her guard? I need to know what she’s thinking but I don’t want to scare her off .

“Okay, one meal.” She steps back and, after a deep breath, replies, “But we’ll go Dutch.”

No way in hell that’s happening, but I nod in agreement.

“There’s no time like the present. Want to grab some lunch? Rosie’s makes the best Italian food in town.”

Her stomach grumbles, and her eyes widen in embarrassment.

“I guess I could eat,” she admits, begrudgingly. “I’ve got a couple more errands to run first, though.”

“Meet me there at noon?” I flash what I hope is my sexiest grin.

“I should be able to make it by then,” she says, “But only because I’m starving.”

So am I . As she walks away, I can’t help but notice how her shorts cling to her like a second skin.

One step closer to making her mine. I can almost taste the sweet victory on my tongue.