After they said good-bye, Trace dropped back, threw his forearm over his eyes, and gave himself a few seconds to replay the last twelve hours.
God, he’d really lost his head last night. Sleeping with Avery . . . It was bound to happen. He’d been fighting it from day one. And, man, talk about unforgettable.
Trace caught his thoughts and turned them around. It couldn’t happen again. This had to be just another one-and-done. No harm, no foul. He had to let last night slip into the background of their friendship so they could both refocus on their goals.
Voices downstairs made Trace lift his arm and open his eyes. He recognized Cody’s drawl, the guy who was going to help replace the roof. Then Avery’s warm laugh.
“Shit.”
So much for relaxing a full sixty seconds. He rolled to his knees again and searched for his jeans. He found them folded at the foot of the foam pad. Along with his boxers, socks, and shirt. His work boots stood right beside them in a neat little package. The sight created a weird pinch in his chest that he ignored as he dressed in twenty seconds flat.
He took another ten seconds to run the water in the new bathroom sink, splash the cold liquid on his face, and run his hands through his hair. Then he looked at himself in the mirror. Damn, he sure looked better than he’d expected. He looked . . . refreshed, not haggard like usual from all the stress of his father, finances, and deadlines.
He turned off the water and reached for a towel but found them all on the floor where he and Avery had dropped them after drying each other off last night. Their shower flashed in his head, and lust flooded him like a waterfall. He saw her dark hair soaked and falling around her face as she dropped her head back, crying out in ecstasy while Trace hammered her against the tile.
He closed his eyes and gripped the sink to steady himself against the light-headed rush. That little girl had the least experience of any woman he’d ever slept with, yet had given him the most memorable night of his life.
Her voice pulled him back to reality. Last night was over. Now he had to let it all go, head downstairs, and make sure she’d let it all go, too. Then pray last night hadn’t screwed up their friendship or their professional relationship, even knowing that was probably too much to hope for.
Resigned, his stomach heavy, he shook off the night and headed downstairs. Halfway down the staircase, right about where he’d pushed fully into Avery’s sweet body for the first time, he heard her voice.
“I’m sure he’ll be right down,” she said. “We had a little problem with the plumbing in the new bathroom upstairs he was checking out. I’ll go see how it’s—” She turned up the staircase, saw him, and stopped, an uncertain smile wavering on her lush mouth. “Oh. Hey.”
They held each other’s gaze a long, hot second. A hot second that turned Trace’s mind 180 degrees.
He didn’t want to let anything go—not last night, not the bond they’d formed, and sure as shit not the gorgeous creature looking up at him.
Either she had clothes stashed somewhere here or she’d gone back to Phoebe’s and changed, because she was dressed in her typically adorable country casual again today. Her sweet little print dress was fitted at her breasts and fell in layers of sheer floral to midthigh. And she’d jumped back into her favorite cowboy boots, which she wore with some type of ruffled sock peeking from the top. The cool morning had her in a cropped sweater that fell open in front and off one shoulder.
The only uncharacteristic thing about her was that she had her hair down. In the kitchen, she always wore it up in a twist or ponytail or clip. But today it hung in loose spirals well past her shoulders.
And Trace’s mind went completely rogue and darted toward What if . . .
“I, um . . . Cody’s here.” She gestured, then twisted her hands together, her nervous tell. “I was just saying you’d be right down.”
Trace continued down the stairs, letting his gaze wander to the banister, where they’d both held tight and found heaven, before meeting her gaze again. He suddenly had a lot to say to her, but they certainly wouldn’t be talking about last night with Cody twenty feet away.
So he followed her lead and said, “Plumbing upstairs is good.”
Her smile relaxed and grew. The dimple in her right cheek peeked through. “Great news.”
Then she spun toward the kitchen again, and her dress lifted, giving Trace a glimpse of her thighs. Thighs he’d had wrapped around him in a number of unforgettable ways last night.
“You and Cody do your thing. I won’t be here long. I know you want to work on the kitchen, so I finished up some of my baking early. I’ll take my lunch orders to Phoebe’s.”
While she gathered up her supplies, Trace shook Cody’s hand. “Hey, man. Mind doing a walk-around? Check out the materials? They were delivered last week to the south side of the building. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“You got it.” Cody started toward the door. “Good to see you, Avery.”
“You, too,” she called with that cute smile. But as soon as Cody stepped out the door and they were alone, she turned serious, rushing to put all her things together. “Sorry, I was planning on getting out of your way earlier, but I always seem to underestimate the time I need.”
At the counter he braced his hands against the stainless steel. “Could it be because you woke up late like I did?”
A deep breath exited her lungs, and her lips scrunched sideways. “Might have been a little of that.”
“You should have woken me.”
Her gaze darted up, and a smile fluttered over her lips. Her eyes softened for a second. “Oh, but you looked so . . .” She shook her head, turning stoic again. “It all worked out fine. Okay, I think I have everything. Oh, your coffee.” She offered him a tall cup. “I left a few sandwiches in the fridge for you and Cody and George.”