Hey Jude (Lennox Valley Chronicles #1)

I’m still pacing when there’s another knock at my door.

“I’m back! I’m coming in!” Wyatt’s muffled voice calls out, as if concerned about what he’ll walk in on.

“Come in!” I call back impatiently, and Wyatt opens the door, peeking in at me again.

“Hey, did you want me to—” He stops mid-sentence, stepping into the room fully. “Are you sure you’re okay, babe?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask.

“Uh, well, first of all, you’re about to pop that stress ball.”

I look down and release my death grip with a self-conscious smile.

“And when I came in here before, you looked like I caught you watching porn. What gives?” He smirks at me.

“I don’t know what you mean; I’m fine,” I lie with a weak smile.

“You just look like you’re… working out some tension,” he says carefully.

“Just some job stress, is all. Butterflies, I guess.” I know I don’t look the least bit convincing.

“Uh-huh,” Wyatt says slowly, narrowing his eyes at me. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that tall drink of water who was giving you bedroom eyes while you choked on your hair this morning, would it?” He smiles knowingly.

I roll my eyes and let out a groan. “Nat told you?”

“Oh, every glorious detail.” He’s grinning at me. “It sounds like hunky lumberjack was a bit of an understatement.” He raises his eyebrows.

I collapse on the bed in defeat. “Ugh, Wyatt, what am I going to do? I have to work alongside this man. And I can’t go five minutes without acting like a total mess in front of him.”

“Oh, honey.” Wyatt sits down on the bed beside me, rubbing my back. “Don’t give yourself a hard time about being… yourself.”

My eyes widen and I turn to see Wyatt grinning and bracing for impact. I tackle him, slapping playfully at his arms and chest as I knock him over onto my bed. “Rotten human!”

“I take it back!” Wyatt gasps between fits of laughter. “I couldn’t help myself! Mercy! Mercy!”

“How dare you!” I shriek, laughing despite myself as he cackles below me. Defending himself, he finally catches both my forearms in his hands, stopping us both.

His eyes are watering from laughter. “Seriously,” he gasps. “Seriously. I didn’t mean it. How can I make it up to you? Tell me your demands. Anything.”

Still perched over Wyatt on the bed, I narrow my eyes in mock resentment and think for a moment. “Bring me dinner when you come home and we’re even.”

“Deal!” He lets go of my arms and wriggles out from under me. Standing, he straightens his shirt and wipes his eyes. “I really didn’t mean it, you know. You’re not a mess; you’re perfect.” He leans over to kiss me on the cheek.

“That’s more like it,” I reply, giving him a rueful smirk. “Now, go get me dinner, errand boy.” I lift my chin at the open door.

He retreats in supplication, averting his eyes, and I throw a pillow at the door as he closes it.

I fall back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, sighing deeply. What am I going to do?

My phone rings and I get up to grab it from the desk.

Fuck. I don’t recognize the number. Again.

Nausea suddenly replaces all the giddy energy from wrestling with Wyatt. I reject the call and put the phone down. I wait a minute, frozen in place, my heart beating rapidly, to see if I’ll get a voicemail notification. Instead, the text notification chimes.

I know this is your number. Stop ignoring me.

I feel ill. I delete the message as fast as I can, block this new number, and toss the phone back onto the desk with a clatter. Inhaling a steadying breath, I walk back to the bed and sit down slowly. I look warily across the room at my phone, as if sheer force of will can make Sean stop trying to contact me.