Bex: Deal.
When I’d first seen her at the funeral, my grandpa had told me I needed to eat crow and get her back because my misery was making him miserable. My whole family and anyone who knew me could see that the last seven years had been hell without her.
The thing was, I’d already been planning to do it and was just hoping I’d get the chance. Now that things were easier between us and she was moving back, I felt like I was getting that missing part of me back again, but it didn’t mean I was going to stop eating crow, as Grandpa called it.
Hell no.
I was going to surprise her by picking up the tacos and bringing them with me. It didn’t matter what it took, I was going to get Bex back. Her friendship had been the best part of my life back then, and the last week had given me glimpses of what it would’ve been like if I hadn’t fucked up so badly.
I was a man on a mission.
I was also a man who’d been spending a ridiculous amount of time trying to analyze his feelings. I’d had a crush on Bex for years, but the feelings I had now were far different from that. Sure, it was still slightly strained between us, but it didn’t feel forced when we were together, and that had to mean something, right?
Every time I asked myself what it meant or tried to dig deeper into my feelings, my brain would scream, “I’m just a man!” at me. Trust me, I knew I was just a man—a specific part of me that was certain about its feelings for her definitely wasn’t confused. And that just confused me even more.
Time. We needed time to heal and time for me to sort my head out. Maybe I should have asked for the psych eval?
I had a key to her house for emergencies, but I still knocked before going inside with the food in a bag dangling from my hand. That big asshole Doyle would try to take me down if I just walked in, but I was holding a taco in my hand to throw in case he still tried after I warned him I was there.
Bexley might have come around to having me near her, but he sure as shit hadn’t.
Opening the door cautiously, I glanced around to make sure he wasn’t there, then walked fully inside. I don’t know what Lawrence had taught him about me, but none of it was good.
What I saw made me come up short. Bexley was on her knees, ass in the air, in a ridiculously short pair of cut-offs, hissing at whatever she was doing.
“Go in, you big bastard. You fit before, so why are you doing this to me now?” I didn’t say a word and barely heard the soft click of the door shutting by itself. “Why don’t you fit in the hole? You can’t just have miraculously grown in five minutes.”
Tell that to my dick.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she snapped, straightening up and pointing at the space in front of her. “I’m going to get you in, just watch.”
Licking my lips, I croaked, “Maybe try lube?”
Jumping, she squeaked and turned around with her arms out like she was going to attack me. “You shit head. Do you know the damage I can do to you?”
Raising an eyebrow, I placed the bag down and reached for the Velcro on the side of my vest with my free hand. I know some guys were religious about wearing theirs as soon as they put their uniform on, but I wasn’t one of them. Wearing it into work and after it depended on the day, and today I’d been in such a hurry to get her that I hadn’t taken it off before I left.
I still needed to carry it inside with me, though, and this was something she’d wisened onto a couple of days ago, so now there was a wooden bench—one of the ones people sat on to put their shoes on—next to the door that she’d said was for me to put it on. Carefully placing on it, I picked the food up and tried to smile breezily at her.
Yeah, breezy—I could do that.
“Sorry, I did knock before I came in, but you were trying to scare something into fitting.”
Nodding, she replied seriously, “I was in the zone. A bit of the baseboard came off when I touched it to look at the gap. I’ve got the glue Dad recommended, but it won’t fit back in.”
Holding a finger up, I dropped the bag on the counter in the kitchen and then came back and squatted down beside her to see what she was talking about. It took all of one second to figure out what was wrong.
Taking the piece of wood out of her hand, I nudged her aside and leaned into the area. “You’ve got it upside down. Because it’s cut at an angle on this side, if you don’t have it the right way around, it won’t fit,” I explained, pointing at one of the edges.
“Damn my life,” she huffed, moving away and giving me space to work.
Putting some glue on the back, I slotted it into place and held it for forty-five seconds like the instructions on the back said. “Are you going to redo the floors?”
“Yeah, they’re getting sanded down in three weeks, and the floor guy said he could do this burning thing that’ll fit in with the rest of the house before they’re varnished again. I want to retain the old vintage style but just freshen it up a bit.”
Slowly lifting my hand off the piece of wood, I counted to twenty before moving away completely, just in case. “He’ll probably fix that piece and any others properly, but that’ll do for now.” Then, standing up, I looked behind her at the living room. “You planning to commit the perfect murder or something?”
The whole floor was covered in plastic sheeting, which had been taped down to hold it in place.