Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)

Trace dropped a piece of maple that had once graced the gym floor of the local high school, and followed on his knees. After setting the grooves, he used another piece of wood to hammer the eight-foot length into place.

The front screen door squeaked open, then slammed shut, and the soft tap of Avery’s boots sounded on the hardwood downstairs. Despite his hurt, his anger, his disappointment, Trace’s stomach flipped and tightened.

“Goddammit,” he muttered and stood to grab another piece of maple.

“Oh, wow,” she said. “You got the piano moved already?”

He didn’t answer. The fact that it was sitting by the front door should be answer enough.

“Trace?” she called up the stairs.

He closed his eyes, rested the end of the maple on the floor, and leaned into it. “What?”

“Thank you.”

Why did she have to be so fucking sweet?

When he didn’t answer, she said, “You’re working late.”

“Yep.” He dropped the wood and repeated the placement process.

“I’m just here to pick up sugar. I ran out at Phoebe’s.”

He lifted his hands out to the side. What the hell did he care? “Great.”

Her boots tapped into the kitchen, and Trace breathed a sigh of relief. He’d laid two more boards by the time she yelled up the stairs again.

“I’m gonna head out. Do you need anything?”

Yeah, he needed a lot of things, and she was at the top of the damn list.

But he gave her a clipped, “Nope.”

She hesitated. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Trace saluted the empty room. “Later.”

More boot taps, another slam of the screen door, and Trace picked up another piece of maple. But this time, he threw it at the floor, dropped his head, and planted his hands at his hips. “Fuck.”

He lowered to his knees and put his frustration into the hammer. When the piece was in place, he sat back on his heels and wiped the sweat from his face with a gloved hand.

“Trace?”

Her voice startled him, and he swiveled to find her at the top of the stairs looking just as breathtaking as she had that morning.

“What?” he barked.

She hesitated. “Is your dad okay?”

“What?” he asked confused. “He’s fine. Everything’s fine. Fucking perfect. What do you want?”

Her expression went from open and worried to baffled and hurt. “I wanted to check on you.”

“Gee, thanks, Cream Puff. I’m fine. Go get your baking on.”

He pushed himself to his feet even though he was spent and grabbed another piece of maple. When he turned to drop it on the floor, Avery jerked it out of his hand.

He spun on her, grabbing it back. “What the fuck?”