Page 20 of She's Like the Wind

“Copy that.”

As Delphi walked off, I stood there a minute longer, letting my fingers rest on the edge of the detail. Naomi would’ve loved this. She always got a dreamy look when I talked about the buildings, like she could see what I saw.

She’d ask questions, thoughtful ones—about airflow, about paint layers, about how long it would take to strip away the decades and reveal what once was.

I never had to dumb anything down for her. She wasn’t just smart—she listened.

No other woman gave a shit except thinking that I looked good in overalls and a toolbelt. I’d heard pretty much every blue-collar construction joke and innuendo there was. But they didn’t care about the nuance of what I did.

But Naomi cared about the details.

We worked through the morning and then broke for lunch, after which we went right back to it. At the end of the day, sweating like a pig and feeling even more ornery than I had when I came in, I checked my phone.

Hoping against hope!

It had become a foolish habit.

There was a time when I didn’t even bother reading messages from women I dated—let alone the ones I left behind. And now I was the one waiting.

Waiting for a woman who’d told me to take my hat and get gone to reach out.

Waiting for some kind of sign—anything—that said I wasn’t alone in this.

That she was hurting, too.

How the mighty had fallen!

No texts. No calls.

Not from her, not from anyone I actually wanted to hear from.

I opened her contact. Stared at it.

Naomi – Royal Troublewith a picture of a pair of silky panties.

She’d saved it for me when I asked her to give me her number. I’d almost deleted it after our first fight when she’d stormed away and told me I needed to stop being such a “bourbon-soaked dickhead” because I’d behaved like a possessive ass.

It had shaken me,hard, that I didn’t like seeing her with another man. I had never had that problem with any other woman before.

I’d fucked her until we both forgot we were mad.

I slid the phone back into my pocket and looked up at the townhouse.

A building like this didn’t get restored by rushing. You had to peel it back, piece by piece, layer by layer, until the truth showed itself.

Maybe relationships were the same way?

Maybe I’d thrown something away before I even understood what it was.

I shook my head at that thought.

Hell no!

I wasn’t signing up for that kind of heartache. Once was enough. I’d rather be alone, jack off to memories of Naomi, than start something that would end up with me in the kind of pain that I never wanted to experience again.

CHAPTER 8

Naomi