“All right, fair deal.” He gives me a little more space before he lets go of one of my hands to turn on the saw. “But can I ask, how many brownie points would I have to earn for you to consider going out with me?”
An exhale falters from my lips at the idea of going out on a date. God, it’s been so many years I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself and the last time I agreed to a date led to years of pain and abuse.
“A hundred,” I tell him.
He pauses for what feels like an eternity.
“Two a day,” he finally muses.
“Two a day? Huh?”
“I’d have to earn two points a day while I’m here in order to get you to consider going out with me.”
“That would give you over a hundred,” I say, releasing my death grip from the table. “If you’re going to be here for a couple of months.”
“I’m covering all my bases,” he replies, his voice gravelly. “Besides, maybe I could cash in the extra twenty for something else.”
His words reverberate through my body, but my tone is surprisingly even. “Like what?”
He shifts nearer. “I’ll have to think about it for a while, but I’m thinking maybe I could see that tattoo on your back.”
“No one sees the tattoo on my back.” I turn around to remind him that flirting and breathing on the back of my neck isn’t going to get him any brownie points, but then I realize it might because I like the sound of his voice and the feel of his breath.
I open my mouth to say… Well, I’m not sure what. Nor do I get to find out because he starts in on a short instructional on how to cut a board. After he’s done explaining, we get to work, guiding the long piece of wood through the saw blade. By the time we’re done splitting, I’m feeling better than I did this morning, the burdens of finances and responsibilities getting drowned out by the loud humming of the saw.
We cut about five boards before Tristan shuts off the saw and steps back to add the cut boards into a pile. As the silence sets in, I find myself missing the loud humming.
“So why are you here this late?” Tristan asks casually as he drops a board onto the stack. “Is it because you had to leave early that day and you’re still making up the hours?”
I nod as I adjust my ponytail. “Yeah, I’m still working on making that up. I have a hard time staying late and stuff. And I haven’t been getting very much sleep the last few days.”
“You shouldn’t work yourself so hard.” He dusts sawdust off his hands. “And Wilson’s not so hardcore that you have to make up the time.”
“I’m fine and I need to make it up—it’s important,” I tell him and he shoots me a doubtful look. “What? What’s that look for?”
He shrugs then bends over to scoop up another board. “It’s just that I saw you sleeping in your Jeep earlier… and you looked really out of it, so I asked Nova to go wake you up before anyone else found you.”
I grow uneasy again at his kindness and end up cracking a joke to break the tension because things are so much less complex when we’re joking. Easy even. “Wow, pretty boy’s got a sweet side to him. Who would have thought.”
A grin tugs at his lips. “You’re one interesting person, Avery…” He trails off as he stands back upright with another board. “What is your last name anyway?”
“Hensley.” I almost slipped up and said Wellings, which isn’t my name anymore, but it was for four years and it’s hard to break that kind of habit—to break any habit. “What’s yours?”
“Morganson.” He deliberatively pauses. “So can I ask why you haven’t been sleeping very well?”
“I had finals online the last couple of weeks but they’re over now, so I should be good.” I wait for him to set the board on the table, but he keeps staring at it.
“So you’re tiredness has nothing to do with Conner?” He finally looks up at me and his intensity makes me wish he would have kept his gaze directed on the board. “Your ex-husband?”
And there it is.
Broken.
Silence.
“No, it’s not him.” I shift my weight uncomfortably. “I actually haven’t seen him since that… thing happened at the bar.”
“And that’s a good thing, right?” He probably wants me to give him more of the details, but I’m not going to—can’t.
“Yeah, it’s a good thing. I promise.”
He relaxes his hold on the board. “Good. You shouldn’t be hanging out with a guy like that.” He drops the board onto the table and lines it up with the blade. “So school, huh? I thought I was the only one crazy enough to do classes online.”
“Yeah, well, I kind of have to, otherwise I’d never have time,” I reply. “I only have two semesters left. I’ll be super glad when it’s over.”
He glances over his shoulder at me. “What are you majoring in?”
“Something ridiculously boring. What about you?”
“I asked you first.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to tell you because you’ll probably think I’m boring.”
He faces me, faking being wounded by my words. “I’m kind offended that you think that way of me, Avery. Seriously, I would never think you’re boring.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh whatever. You’re flattered by the conversation we’ve been having.”
“Why would you think that?” Amusement dances in his eyes.
I give another exaggerated eye roll. “Because I’ve been flirting with you and you know it.” The truth escapes under no control of my own.
His expression mixes with shock and desire, his penetrating graze scorching my skin.
This isn’t the time to go back to dreamland, Avery. You have your life on track. You’re going to school. You’re sober. And you have a purpose for why you’re here, if you can ever figure it out.
But what if it’s here?
As Tristan opens his mouth, I find myself way too eager to hear what he’s going to say next. I never get to find out though, because he unexpectedly lets out a fake cough. Seconds later, Nova and Quinton appear beside us, looking drained yet happy.
“Hey Avery,” Nova says while Quinton gives me a small wave that I return.
Then Nova focuses on Tristan. “We were going to head back to the hotel and get cleaned up to go out.”