But time was a funny thing when it came to grief and moving on. For some, it was simply making the decision to put the past behind them and focus on the future. Unfortunately for her, it hadn’t been that easy.
Seattle was big. Huge, even. And filled with all kinds of attractive men. Yet she had zero interest in trying to start up that kind of relationship withanyof them.
A few women in her office had offered to set her up with ones they knew. Guys who, from the pictures her well-meaning co-workers had showed her, were self-sufficient and admittedly handsome.
But none of those men—or any others who’d crossed her path since—had ever created even the slightest of sparks. Not like the one she’d felt when she’d gotten her first glimpse of Hunter in that bar so long ago.
Liar, liar.
Of its own accord, the image of another man’s face filled her mind’s eye…
A straight nose dividing sharp, chiseled, symmetrical features. Full, kissable lips that always lifted into a heart-thumping sideways grin she’d come to love. A light layer of dark scruff covering a jaw that screamed masculine strength.
Green-blue eyes she insisted werenotthe ones she’d been seeing in her most recent, late-night dreams.
Nope. It wasn’t him in last night’s arousing dream. Was. Not.
No, it most certainly wasn’t, and she sure as hell shouldn’t think ofhislips as kissable or anything else. Shouldn’t be thinking about his lips atall, for that matter.
The elevator dinged, the shiny metal doors sliding open in an even divide. Stepping inside the empty cart, Natalie forced the unsettling thoughts away.
She’d given the most important job of her professional career and needed to stay focused on that. Because minus her sister—and the man whose face had no business being anywherenearher sexual fantasies—this career was the only real thing she had left.
2
Logan droppedhis toolbox into the bed of his truck on his way to the driver’s door. The day had been a long one, and he was exhausted and starving. With plans to go home, shower, eat, and crash, he reached for the handle and—
“Yo, Hayes! Hold up!”
He froze, his eyes closing with frustration. The shouted voice coming from behind was one he recognized all too well. It was also the last man on their crew Logan had any desire to interact with.
Doing his best not to audibly growl, he gave Ronnie Beecham a straight-faced glance from over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“You grabbed my wrench.”
Surprised you know what a wrench is, you entitled prick.
“Didn’t take your wrench, Ronnie.” Logan shook his head and looked away.
“Don’t turn your back on me, asshole! I know you’ve got my fucking wrench, and I want it back!”
For fuck’s sake.“Maybe you set it down and forgot.”
He pulled the handle and started to open his door, but a hand shot out and slammed it back shut.
“Or maybe you’ve had it out for me since the day I got here, and you’re trying to do anything you can to screw me over!” The newest member of their construction crew barked near Logan’s ear.
Logan looked at the dirty, grimy hand still pressed against his truck. Filling his lungs slowly, he forced a purposeful calm into his next words.
“Get your hand off my truck.” Low. Steady.
And crystal fucking clear.
“My wrench. Now, asshole!”
Fists tight at his side, he worked his throat and swallowed the urge to pound the son of a bitch into the ground.
Terrorists are one thing. Kill this fucknut, you go to jail.