“Coffee’s in the corner if you want it,” Kade said without looking up. “It’s terrible, but it’s hot.”
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
I settled in and started working through the documents. He returned to his blueprints, scribbling notes in the margins with that ridiculously small pen. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the hum of the space heater fighting the February cold and the occasional rustle of paper.
It should have been awkward. Instead, it was almost peaceful. Two people doing their jobs, demanding nothing from each other. A welcome change from the constant chatter of the mayor’s office.
I looked up at one point to ask a question and caught him watching me. He glanced away fast, his jaw going tight, but not before I glimpsed something behind that frozen expression. Something that didn’t match the cold exterior at all.
Then it vanished, and I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“This invoice,” I said, tapping a line item to break the strange tension. “The concrete delivery on January fifteenth. The quantity doesn’t match the materials estimate.”
He leaned over to see what I was pointing at. Close enough that I caught his scent—a musky, but fresh scent that reminded me of being in the woods on a fresh spring day.
“Weather delay.” His voice stayed flat. “Had to split the pour. Second delivery came on the twentieth.”
“Documentation?”
“Should be in there.” He reached across me to flip through the folder, his forearm brushing mine.
Brief. Accidental. Completely innocent.
It still sent heat racing up my arm and into places it had no business going.
I shifted back, adding space between us. Professional. I was here to be professional. Not to notice how his hands looked, or wonder what they’d feel like if?—
No. Absolutely not.
Kade found the page and slid it toward me. “Satisfied?”
“Getting there.” I kept my voice even. “This will take a few more hours. I can come back another day if you’d rather.”
“No.” The word came out clipped. He seemed to catch himself and softened slightly. “No, let’s finish it. Crew’s coming tomorrow. I’d rather have this done.”
“Fine by me.”
I turned back to the paperwork. He turned back to his blueprints. The space heater hummed. Outside, Wildwood Valley was drowning in hearts and roses and couples making moon eyes at each other over pancakes.
In here, it was just me, a stack of invoices, and a man who clearly wished I’d evaporate.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
I pulled my reading glasses from my bag and prepared for the long haul. Across the desk, Kade Mercer glared at his blueprints like they owed him money.
The trailer felt smaller than when I’d walked in. The air felt thicker, too, despite the draft sneaking through the thin walls.
I blamed the space heater.
But deep down, I knew it was so much more than that.
2
KADE
Icouldn’t focus.
The blueprints in front of me might as well have been written in ancient Greek. I’d read the same line about drainage specifications four times now and retained nothing. All because of the woman sitting six feet away, methodically working through my paperwork like she belonged here.