Page 52 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“In the box. I just hauled it to the bedroom.”

“Got tools?”

“Um . . . yes?” She tapped the top of a box. “I have a screwdriver. Somewhere. It’s in one of these. Or maybe a box in the office.”

She’d spend an hour just finding her tools.

Without a word, I strode outside to my truck, grabbing the small toolbox I kept under the backseat. When I came inside, Winn was in the bedroom beside the frame’s open cardboard box.

“Instructions?” I asked.

She pointed to the hardware pack and attached pamphlet. “I can do it.”

“I’ll help.”

“Why?”

I grinned. “So I can help you break in the bed.”

“I thought you didn’t want to do that again.”

“I can make time for one more night. What do you say, Chief?”

She picked up the instructions and handed them over. “One more night.”

Chapter Nine

Winslow

Griffin’s tongue swept inside my mouth, fluttering against mine before he broke away. Then he bent to pull on his boots.

I stood back, watching as he trapped his hair beneath the faded black baseball hat he’d been wearing last night. The ends I’d been toying with before he’d climbed out of my bed curled at his nape.

It took effort not to go to him. Not to run my hands up his wide chest and beg for one more kiss. But I stayed on the armrest of the couch because if this was going to work, boundaries were key.

“See ya around.” Griffin walked over and leaned in like he was about to kiss my forehead, but at the last second, pulled away, adjusting the brim of his hat.

I shouldn’t have been disappointed. Sweet gestures and forehead kisses weren’t part of this relationship. We were enjoying casual sex, nothing more.

Boundaries.

“Bye.” I followed him to the door and waited by the threshold as he went outside, his boots thudding on the porch stairs before he stepped onto the sidewalk, taking it with those long, easy strides.

Watching him walk away had become part of my daily routine.

He’d been coming here each night for a week. Each morning he’d leave before dawn and I’d wonder if he’d come back. Or if last night had been the last night.

Some nights, he’d come over early, not long after I’d gotten home from work. Other nights, it would be after dark and he’d find me unpacking a box. He’d interrupt my progress and carry me to the bedroom, which was why my living room was still full of cardboard and I continued living out of suitcases. The kitchen was unpacked, but little progress had been made elsewhere.

The sex was . . . distracting. Brilliantly distracting. This fling had no chance of lasting. So the boxes could wait until Griffin and I fizzled out.

He glanced over his shoulder as he rounded the hood of his truck, and even in the dark, I saw the sexy smirk on his lips. Yeah, he’d be back tonight.

I wasn’t the only one enjoying this.

Closing the door, I waited for the rev of his truck’s engine before retreating to my bedroom. The sheets were rumpled and his scent, spice and leather and earth, clung to the air. I’d fallen asleep to that smell last night as I’d lain on his chest, my body limp and utterly sated.

We’d gone wild last night. He’d worn me out so thoroughly, I hadn’t had a nightmare all week.