Cold Hearted Bachelor by Logan Chance
Five
Paisley
Leave him alone?Sure thing. Don’t have to tell me twice. It’s my house, though, so I can look if I want. Take that, you crotchety exquisite man. He strolls throughout the house, measuring different things, and I watch the same way I used to watch him as a kid. When he and Spencer built their treehouse, that’s still there today, I’d sit on the back porch, soda in hand, studying Vaughn. He still has the same habit of biting the corner of his lower lip as he did back then, when he’d carefully place the wood and use a hammer to nail it all together.
That’s when my crush was born. In hindsight, I should’ve looked away when he smiled from across the lawn, seeking out my thoughts on the structure, like what I had to say was important. I was even the first one to enter the treehouse when it was finally done. And I instantly filled it with pillows from the couch and gave him his first housewarming present—a tractor.
Not just any tractor, either. A bright yellow and green metal heirloom. The same one my grandfather gave my grandmother when they first met.
It was special.
He probably threw it away.
Just like he threw away my kiss.
He continues snapping his measuring tape like a whip, and I refuse to move from my living room to ‘leave him alone.’ When mom gave me the tractor, she said the tank was filled with hope. Well, I hope he feels me staring. I hope all the corded muscles, moving beneath his shirt, are feeling really uncomfortable right now.
Upstairs, I thought we shared a moment. But, I see now we didn’t. It was all in my imagination. I just want this whole renovation job to be over.
“All done,” he states, letting his tape measure click back into place.
“Great.” I make a beeline for the door, and slam it behind me, leaving Vaughn inside.
Of course, the truck is locked, so my tantrum results in me having to stand by his truck and hope nothing wild and hungry is lurking in the shadows of my property. The house goes dark and he exits, taking long strides toward me.
“I shut off the lights and locked up.” He laughs a little, and it pisses me off more.
He hits the keyfob, and I hop inside without a word.
Intent on leaving him alone, I tug my phone out of my purse as Vaughn slides into the driver’s side and starts the engine. There’s a text message from Gwen, asking me what Vaughn thought of the house. I actually don’t know. I don’t think he ever said if he loved it or not. Doesn’t matter. Who cares what he thinks? Although, I should, because the adult part of me needs to know if he thinks it’ll be an easy renovation job.
“So, what do you think?” I finally ask after we’re a few miles down the road.
“Nothing, really.”
“I didn’t ask you what you’re thinking about right now. I asked you what you think about the job? Think it’ll be a huge ordeal?”
“Ordeal?”
“With money and expenses.” I sigh. “And time.”
“Oh,” he scrubs a hand down his jaw, “it shouldn’t be too bad.”
“Really? I’m worried about going over my budget.”
Vaughn glances over at me, his eyes meeting mine. “I’ll personally guarantee we stick to your budget.”
“Thank you.” He still didn’t give his opinion on the house. “Do you see the potential like I do?”
Even in the semi-darkness, I can see his body tense. “It’ll be nice when it’s all finished,” he says. But his voice lacks conviction, like he doesn’t truly believe it’ll be nice at all.
“I want it to be homey. Like how my house was growing up.”
“Your house always did feel like home.”
I smile. “Yes, exactly. I want everyone to feel welcomed all the time.”
“I’m positive you and your friends will all love it. And your boyfriend, Cody?”
“Colby,” I correct him.
“So, he is your boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “No, he’s just a friend.”
Vaughn pulls onto the interstate, and I turn to stare out the window. The cloudless sky showcases all the twinkling stars. I spot a shooting star and make a silent wish that I’ll be able to work with Vaughn and not regress back to the teenaged girl who had the major crush on him in high school.
Since there’s nothing to look at in the darkness, I plan my life. I want the fairytale—house, kids, and a great husband. I already have the house, so I’m one third there.
We reach my parents’ house in what feels like record time.
I swing my door open. “Thanks for the ride,” I say, hopping out of his truck and making my way toward the front door.
“Wait.” Vaughn is out the truck and races to catch up with me. “You forgot your sweater.”
“Thank you.”
He doesn’t let go when I reach to take it from his hands. Instead, he gives a slight tug, and my hand lands on his chest.
“So this dress you’re wearing…” His eyes meet mine, and the intensity nearly crushes me. “Do you remember that night, Pea?”
“Barely,” I lie.
“I’m sorry I hurt you back then.”
I suck in a deep breath, unable to form any words. Finally, I say, “It’s ok.”
“It’s not,” he breathes out, his eyes glowing with something I can’t turn away from. Most likely it's the spell he’s trying to pull me under with.
His eyes land on my mouth, and I wet my lips. He mirrors my action, and steps closer.
He raises his hand, his fingers touching lightly to a strand of my hair. “I’ve always liked your hair.”
He’s so dang close to me, I can’t breathe. It’d be so easy to raise up on my tiptoes and kiss him. But, I can’t move as his eyes caress my hair.
“You’ve got great hair, Pea.”
He’s got great everything. I gaze at his face, following the cut of his jaw with the soft stubble there, wondering what it would feel like against my heated skin.
I lean in, wishing on every single star in the sky for a new wish. I wish he’d kiss me instead.
I should back away, run inside and slam the door.
He closes the distance, tilting his head just a bit.
And then, I see the exact moment Vaughn decides against kissing me. Just like the last time I tried to kiss him.
He backs up, dropping his hand. “I’ll get with Spencer and we’ll be in touch.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped back to reality. “Great, thanks.” I twist the handle, opening the door, and head inside, not letting Vaughn see what effect he’s had on me.
Seriously, I will never try to kiss him ever again.
