Losing the love of my life taught me that inactions have consequences. My new bookkeeping job teaches me that numbers don't lie, but people do.
Sharing yoga with others is my refuge from the darkness pulling me to stay home. A ginormous pro footbal...
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"You're trespassing, Darlin'," he repeated.
The imaginary voice cracked open my eyes. Not only were the words wrong, but the tone wasn't Nathan's. I blinked through the bright blurriness and drew in a congested breath that tickled my nose.
Nothing but expansive openness surrounded me. A visual checklist – blue sky, puffy white clouds, and overgrown grasses rippling with textured waves - pushed a breath between my lips. I focused on the same hot, dry breeze caressing my cheeks. That was real.
Now I was hearing voices. Fucking fantastic. I forced myself to hear Nate's voice, so I remembered the warmth of Southern twang wrapped around his determined spirit, but Sam's course, deep voice in my head was a kick in the vagina.
Rough wood pricked the pads of my fingers. That was real. Worth the prick of splinters, but the sickening realization that I could no longer siphon this place's comfort was also real. It was never mine, but now it was someone else's.
"I said you're trespassing, Darlin," my brain's Sam voice called.
Rustling sounds of a presence approaching pricked my ears. Was that real? I cracked open my eyes and focused on where two broad shoulders relaxed. Dark brown eyes, sun glinting on the rounded texture of his hair. A few pieces fell over his forehead, messy and effortless.
He was so handsome it hurt to look at him. A crew neck T-shirt clung to his shoulders and pecs from perspiration, and his light jeans sculpted to his thick legs. The bottoms were tucked into faded brown leather boots with creases at the dip. Cute.
Sam stopped an arm's distance apart. One of his hands lifted, and his long fingers wrapped over the top gate board. He tucked a large, rolled-up paper under his elbow. His eyes shifted off mine and softened at the natural expanse around us. "It's nice." His chest expanded with a deep breath. "I see why you like trespassing here."
Defiance forced a smile on my lips. "Only the owner can say that. You know them?"
"I do." I lifted my eyes from the sparkles in his to the dark strands trailing across his forehead, where a slight crease appeared. "Some rich asshole who should be better with his finances."
His gaze dropped to where my index fingers shredded the cuticles around my thumbnails. He opened his mouth, then closed it. With a crunch, his hand curled around his paper, and the other hand dragged down the back of his neck. A cloak of guilt hung on him, slumping his shoulders and weighing down his gaze. After a week of debating, I wanted it peeled back. "I'm sorry, Mia," he whispered. "It's not what you think."
His admission, which sounded like the words of a liar, was a storm cloud sweeping in and bursting a downpour into my already soggy mood. I shifted my gaze to his truck blocking mine in. "Which part? The one where you sleep with your staff? Or -"
"I haven't slept with anyone but Candace since she dropped herself into my life," his eyes never left mine, even with the clench of his teeth that tightened the jaw beneath his trimmed beard line. Insistence tightened his voice. "Third year at Baylor."
