Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)
She went on about the wood, the hardware, how he’d had to jump through hoops to give her just the setup she’d wanted. And Trace was still wrangling inner turmoil when Mark glanced his way and offered a sincere, “Really nice work.”
Trace nodded. “Thanks.”
Mark turned, surveyed the butcher block, and planted a hand on the surface—right where Avery’s as
s had slid over the wood while Trace had eaten her out and Avery had begged him to make her come.
Trace’s cock was uncomfortably hard, and he had to shift on his feet to ease the pressure.
Mark stroked his hand across the surface. “This is great.”
Trace was already looking at Avery when her gaze cut toward him. “Yes, Trace . . . does amazing work.”
His mouth kicked up in a one-sided smile. “It’s all about making my client happy.”
Avery looked away, pressing her lips against a smile, her face turning bright pink.
“I may have you give me an estimate for a kitchen remodel at my house,” Mark said. “I just bought a place on Park Terrace.”
Ritzy area. The kid was doing well for himself. And he was exactly the kind of man Avery should be dating. Trace also realized Mark’s offer was exactly why he’d taken the café remodel at such a cut rate—to garner more work and get his own construction business under way again so he could stop all that shitty manual labor he’d been stuck with since he’d gotten out of prison. It was also exactly why he should never have slept with Avery.
He sobered, met Mark’s gaze, and said, “I’d be happy to come by.” He pulled out his wallet, slid a business card free, and handed it to the other man. “Call anytime.”
Mark shook Trace’s hand again. “Will do.”
“Well, it was good to see you, Mark,” Avery said. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to get out of this kitchen so Trace can get started.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Avery gathered her bags and Mark gallantly took several for her. On the porch, holding the screen open, Avery let Mark go ahead of her and glanced back at Trace with an excited grin and a thumbs-up. “For your dad?”
“It’s sweet, Avery, but I don’t have the money for the fixes, and I don’t know anything about pianos.”
“I’ll take care of that if you take care of moving it.” She gave him the puppy-dog eyes she used when she wanted something special in the remodel. “Please?”
He smiled and shook his head but agreed. “Anything for you.”
With an extra bounce in her step, she jogged down the stairs to where Mark waited at the bottom, and they continued toward her car together. Watching her walk away with another man at her side didn’t bring Trace relief the way it would have with any other woman he’d slept with over the past year. Or longer.
At some point during the night, Avery had become more than just another hookup. Might have been her sweet laughter in the dark. Might have been the way she’d draped her beautiful body over him, falling asleep with her head against his chest just the way she’d promised. Might have been one of hundreds of other moments they’d shared over the last two months working together. Might have been an all-of-the-above combination.
The what, how, or when didn’t really matter. Because regardless, Trace had to face the fact that Avery could never be just another hookup. She was too damn special.
And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. On the way to the Jeep, Trace heard Mark say, “I’d love to take you out to dinner and catch up. What are you doing tonight?”
That cut a slice in Trace’s gut. He couldn’t hear Avery’s answer, but they hugged again before she got into the car.
Cody appeared at the base of the steps, and Trace put any lingering thoughts of what if out of his mind, stuffed the residual desire and disappointment into a corner, and did what he’d come here to do. For himself and for Avery.
He slapped Cody on the shoulder. “Are you up for moving a piano later today?”
Avery’s gaze blurred over the spreadsheet in front of Delaney. She sat in her sister’s office at the building that would eventually be Wildcard Brews. The space was in the very early stages of construction, basically a shell housing Ethan’s brewing setup. The familiar sound of male shouts echoed through main space beyond the door, drawing Avery’s gaze to the window between the spaces. Beyond, the open space was filled with construction materials and wandering men, the sound of power and hand tools.
“Oh, I’m not going to miss that,” Avery murmured. She looked forward to the day a little serenity entered her life. At least the large crews Trace had brought on to do the earlier jobs like framing and drywall were gone. Now she dealt with fewer men, usually just Trace and whoever was helping him on the job that day.
“I don’t even hear it anymore,” Delaney murmured, her brow furrowed as she turned pages.
After years on job sites, Delaney must have grown immune to the sound of construction the way Avery had grown immune to the sounds of a working kitchen.