“It went fine,” I grunt out, my voice suddenly thick. The saw splits the wood into two, and I set the pieces aside. I grab another 2x8 and toss it on the bench, picking up the saw and lining it up at the mark I drew earlier. My hand remains stagnant.
Fuck. Why did he have to play the Mia card?
I let out a heavy sigh. “It was awkward, okay? I didn’t know it was going to be at the same place I proposed to Molly at, and it was. On top of that, she’s marrying the douche-bag I caught her cheating on me with. Seeing him with her wasn’t really something I was prepared for. I’m hung-over as fuck.”
“You proposed to her? When?”
I begin sawing, concentrating on the mark. “Before she left for college. I didn’t tell anybody.”
Great. Now this shit is going to get out. I’m sure Tessa will have a field day with this information, and then bitch at me for an hour for not telling her about it.
“She said no, and you stayed with her?”
My skin begins to tingle, my shoulder burning from the force I’m putting behind my hand. “She didn’t really say no. She laughed, told me I was crazy, which I fucking was, and then sucked my dick to distract me. Or to ease the sting of her rejection. Whatever. It wasn’t that great from what I can remember.”
“What about the girl?”
I break through the wood. Ben breaks through my resistance.
“Are you sure I’m not standing here talking to Mia? Shit!” I throw the saw down and walk over to the water bottle I threw out into the yard.
Goddamn it. I’m losing it. Losing. It.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Okay, so I may or may not have had the best sex of my life last night. Shouldn’t that be a good thing?
No. It can’t be a good thing. Because it was with Beth.
Beth, the woman I can’t stop thinking about.
Beth, the woman who had me reeling from the memory of a goddamn kiss, and who has now completely fucked my world over from a hand-job and whatever the fuck else.
Beth. Beth fucking Davis.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember, trying not to remember . . .
“Reed,” she begs, thrashing about on the bed, grinding her pussy against my hand. “Please, now. Please . . . I can’t wait . . . fuck me. I need it. Need you.”
My eyes fly open. Jesus Christ. She said she needed me.
I hear Ben’s rough laugh from behind me, which has my hand squeezing the empty bottle, smashing it up. I turn around and toss it into the trash. It doesn’t matter that I’m ignoring him. I know without even looking into his pussy-whipped face that it’s lit up with amusement.
A sharp sting cracks against my shoulder as he slaps my back. He looks down at me, grinning. “You’re fucked. You know that, right?”
I shrug him off, watching him walk over to the nail gun. “I’m fucked because I’m hung-over, and I have a friend who all-of-a-sudden grew a vagina. Can we please go back to not speaking? I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
He holds his hands up, backing away slowly.
I turn away and grab my drill and a few screws, stopping to pick up one of the 2x8’s I sawed in half. I think I get thirty, maybe forty seconds of silence before I hear Ben’s laugh building from a muffled grunt to a full-blown, throwing his head back, all at my expense laugh.
“You’re so fucked,” he repeats, bracing the nail gun on one of the posts. “I’ve been waiting for this. Now you can’t say shit about me and Luke.”
I line up the board where I want it.
“So fucked. I’m excited.”
I drill in one screw. Just stay focused. Ignore him. Don’t think about it.
“Wait until Tessa hears about this.”
The drill slips, splitting the wood as the second screw goes in jagged.
“Fuck!” I set the drill down and grab the crowbar, pointing it directly at Ben. “I’m not fucked.” I’m fucked. “Nothing happened.” A lot happened, just don’t ask me what. “And I don’t give a shit if Tessa hears about it.” I’d rather she didn’t. “Are you ready to get back to work, woman, or do you need another break to go change your tampon?”
Ben drops all humor, and I lower the crowbar. He stares at me with the look I’m sure he gives the pieces of shit he arrests every day. Ben’s probably got a good ten to fifteen pounds of muscle on me. He’s intimidating as fuck. He always has been. I’m sure if we were to start throwing punches, I could keep up for a while, but one of his blows might knock me into next week.
His eyes narrow, then a slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.
Shit.
“So fucked,” he taunts.
I look back at the board I’m about to pry off. My shoulders sag, and I almost kick at the dirt on the ground.
“Yeah,” I say through a groan. “Yeah, I fucking know.”
Beth