Page 48 of Running Risk

RYLEE: NOW

Scooping up a glob of mortar, I flick it onto the concrete subfloor in my kitchen and use my trowel to spread it around.

Once I get the area covered, I rub mortar onto the back of the bricks to back butter them and lay them three-eighths of an inch apart, staggering them.

After this kind of work, I always have dust in my hair and dried mortar under my nails, but I love the calmness with Sabrina Carpenter singing in the background, “Please Please Please.” This is when I get time to make my vision become reality, and I get one step closer to accomplishing my goals.

The only thing is, I can’t seem to clear my head of thoughts about Clayton.

Doing projects is a type of therapy for me.

I’m able to think and completely clear my head.

The look on his face told me he was serious that night at the lookout, and I want to move past this.

But how do I know he won’t do it again one day?

How will I ever be able to fully trust him again?

I know he left because of his dad, but what I don’t understand is why he didn’t let me in. Why keep me at arm's length?

Then he brought me soup and a book I’ve been wanting, but the thing that pushed it over the edge was him spending his day off to cut a tree for me. I know my dad asked him to, but my dad didn’t ask him to make me soup. Everything’s getting more confusing.

Trish was right, I shouldn’t have gotten into bed with him. I knew better, or at least, I shouldn’t have ignored the signs. But I wanted to throw caution to the wind and have a dream that I have fantasized about for longer than I’d like to admit.

By the time I’m halfway through the kitchen, I’ve mixed my third batch of mortar when Trish barrels through the door.

“You aren’t going to believe this.”

I wipe the back of my forearm against my forehead and put my trowel down before spreading the fresh mixture.

I know I have mortar all over my hands and in my hair, but she’s used to seeing me this way.

Spandex shorts peeking out from under my baggy T-shirt are my favorite outfit for projects. “What?”

Her eyes scan my kitchen before landing back on me. “Wow. This is going to look amazing when you’re done. But damn, it’s rough right now.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I know. Now, will you spit it out? I don’t have long before this hardens, and I have to toss it.” I point my thumb to the bucket next to me.

“Oh, right.” She shuffles on her feet as if she’s excited, she can’t stand still. “You know the promotion I’ve been wanting at Target?” She bounces on her toes.

A smile spreads across my face, and I jump up. “Not uh!” I squeal.

“Oh yes! You’re looking at the next Target store director, bitch!” Trish shimmies, dancing around with excitement.

I wrap my arms around her and squeeze, careful not to get any mortar on her.

“I’m proud of you. No one deserves it more.

” Trish has been working for Target for over eight years and has done about every job they offer.

She’s one of the hardest workers I know, and I couldn’t be more proud of her for pursuing her dreams. “We have to celebrate tonight.”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she grimaces. “That’s the thing.”

I purse my lips. “What?” We always celebrate our accomplishments. It’s not like we haven’t done this before.

“Well, Avery is taking me out, and we want to make it a group thing.”

Realization dawns on me. I’m going to have to see Clayton in order to celebrate with her. My stomach rolls at the thought of being around him. I fidget with the mortar on my fingernails.

“Listen, it’s fine if you don’t want to go. We can always celebrate another night.” She steps closer to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I was with Avery when I got the news, and he was excited for me. I couldn’t say no.”

I nod because I do understand where she’s coming from. “No, I get it.” I smile, hoping to ease her worry. This isn’t about me right now, and I want to be there for my friend. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

Her face lights up as she pulls me in for a hug. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll have a movie night another time, only the two of us, though.” I point at her, and she laughs.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Trish has been the best friend I needed in my life after moving back home.

She’s always available for me and has my back, and I want to be there for her, especially when it’s time to celebrate her accomplishments.

“Alright. Get out of here so I can finish this.” I motion toward the bricks I still need to lay.

She winks and spins around. “Okay,” she says over her shoulder. “Be at Jimmy’s tonight at seven.”

After scrubbing at my nailbeds and raking my fingers through my hair in the shower, I’m finally clean after finishing my kitchen floors a few hours after Trish left.

I pull on a pair of distressed jeans and a black tank top.

Standing in front of my mirror in my bathroom, I brush my hair and pull it to the side as I style it into a single braid.

After rubbing my vanilla lotion onto my hands, I put a pair of hoop earrings in and pull on my brown boots.

I grab my keys and purse and jump in my truck.

The drive is quick, but it isn’t short enough for my thoughts to not run rampant.

Having Clayton back in my life has made things more complicated.

I want to forgive him and trust him with every fiber of my being.

But can I? Is it that simple? After seven years, can I do that?

I had a hand in the end of our friendship, it wasn’t only him, and he is willing.

As I pull into the parking lot of the bar, I take a few deep breaths and remind myself why I’m here. Trish is my main focus, and I won’t worry about anyone else. It’ll be challenging, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

I startle when there’s a knock on my window as soon as I turn my ignition off.

Clayton stands on the other side of my door, looking sexy as hell.

His white button-up shirt is tucked into his jeans, and his shaggy hair looks just the right amount of messy.

My eyes zero in on his mouth that is partially hidden behind his groomed beard, and my insides tingle at the thought of feeling his face between my legs.

Shaking my head, I open my door, and he steps aside to give me space.

“Ry.” His deep voice vibrates through my body, and I instantly need to get away.

“Let’s go inside. Trish is already here.” Before I turn to walk inside, I watch him rub the back of his neck.

Clayton follows me inside the bar, and I find Trish and Avery sitting at the same table we used the other night, all those weeks ago.

They look cozy as they sit close and touch each other.

Trish’s hand lies on his forearm, and Avery’s is on her thigh.

I’m glad to see her happy, but it also makes my heart ache for that type of connection.

Clayton clears his throat from behind me, his woodsy scent surrounding me, and I remember that I haven’t made a move to join them at the table. It jolts me into action, and I cross the room. “Hey, you two,” I say, forcing a smile on my face.

Trish’s eyes jump to meet mine, and her face beams as she shoves Avery out of the way to get to me. She wraps her arms around my neck and whispers into my ear. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I squeeze her tighter. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

After several hours and many drinks have come and gone, we’re all feeling good and enjoying the night.

The drinks have helped me ignore Clayton’s eyes on me for the most part, but it hasn’t helped when his thigh brushes against mine.

It’s like the alcohol only heightens the sensation, making it hard for me to focus on anything else but him.

Trish does her best to keep the conversation flowing, but I know I’ve made this night awkward.

Clayton has been keeping quiet, and I didn’t miss the looks Trish has sent Avery begging for help to lighten the tension.

“Boot Scootin’ Boogie” by Brooks and Dunn begins playing over the speakers, and Trish squeals.

“Now, you two have been making this night weird, and we’re supposed to be celebrating.

So I’m saying we all have to dance.” She waves her hands, signaling for us all to get up and head toward the dance floor.

Clayton and I object, but she fixes her blue eyes into a glare.

“Did that sound like a question to you?” Her eyes bounce between us, and I don’t miss the chuckle Avery attempts to hide behind his hand.

“That’s what I thought. Now, you can dance apart or together, I don’t care, but let’s go. ”

I turn toward Clayton, and his face has a challenge in it as he stares at his hands.

“Well, it doesn’t sound like we have much of a choice,” I say, glancing at Trish, and she gives one single nod in confirmation.

Clayton nods and gets out of the booth. His now rolled-up sleeves show me every inch of his strong arms. He holds his hand out for me, and I place my hand in his as I stand.

Trish pulls Avery to follow, while we slowly make our way closer to the dance floor.

The couples dance in a circle, following in a two-step around the floor, and Clayton places one hand on my shoulder blade while his other holds my hand.

Then we move, and his fingers sear their imprints into me.

His gaze remains on me, and my eyes trail off to the side, so I don’t have to fixate on his chest right in front of me while attempting to ignore his brown eyes on me.

As we dance, we slowly get closer together, and my chest brushes against his.

His deep exhale dusts against my hair, and I instinctively breathe him in, relaxing with its familiarity.