"Figured that cooler in your room can only hold so much. And the one in your kitchen is useless."
"I know it's also scary inside. I was going to buy one this week."
"You don't have to. Saved you a trip."
Her gaze grows glossy, and she stares at me in wonder. It's obvious she's battling something.
"Hey, it's just a fridge. You needed one, and I had it lying around."
She jerks out of her haze, indifference sliding onto her features. "That was very thoughtful. I'll pay you for it."
"Unnecessary."
"Of course it is. This is a business relationship and I'd rather not be slapped with a bill down the line." An attitude of superiority clicks into place.
"We gonna play it that way, Lily?"
She stiffens. "I was wondering when that would come up."
"Fuck yeah, it's gonna come up. Wanna tell me why you lied to me about your name and disappeared before daylight without even a call?"
"It's not like we exchanged numbers or contact information. Our time was done." Her voice is firm, but there's an underlying sadness there.
"Bullshit, we can exchange bodily fluids but you couldn't even give me your actual name or leave a number when you snuck away?"
This time she jolts, a fire blazing in her expression. "Don't be an asshole. It wasn’t sneaking away. I had somewhere to be."
"You couldn't find the decency to say goodbye?"
"It was easier my way. No complications, no messy goodbyes, no hassle."
"You mean no way I could get your damn phone number and possibly find out more about you?"
"We knew the stakes! I lived in Chicago, and you were visiting. Neither of us wanted more!"
"You mean you didn't want more." I know I've struck a nerve when she cringes and drops her chin to her chest.
"Is working together going to be a problem?" she mumbles, not looking up.
"Nope, but keep your fucking money, Ashlyn."
"You work for me."
"No, I work for me. But if it makes you feel better to think that, have at it." There's no disguising my pissed off vibe.
Her mouth snaps shut, and irritation flames again. I go to the back of the truck, yank open the tailgate, and lift the fridge. "It'd be helpful if you could get the door." She picks up on the sharp edge to my tone, rushing up the steps to hold open the door. I put it in the corner of her room, plug it in, and go back to my truck to haul in my toolbox. Within fifteen minutes, the front locks are changed and a new deadbolt in place. All the while, she stands back, quietly watching me.
Her phone rings from another room, and she leaves me alone to take the call. I move to the kitchen to work on the back door, and even with the sound of the drill, I hear her arguing with someone.
"Andrew, I'm done having this conversation repeatedly. This is my life, my money, and my choice. You do not factor into this decision. It's time all of you get on board. This is happening and I'm excited about it. You can shove this self-righteousness up your ass." She ends her rant with a little scream before the sound of her stomping her feet travels through the empty house.
A few minutes later, she comes in and leans against the counter with a glass of wine.
"Would you like a drink?" she offers, breaking the silence.
"Don't drink wine."
"A bottle of water?"
"All hydrated." I drill the last screw in place and check the key to make sure everything is tight.
"I was rude earlier."
I don't respond, putting away my tools.
"The refrigerator was a gracious gesture. Where I come from, friendly gestures are uncommon and usually come with expectations."
"Is this how you apologize?" I raise my eyes to hers.
"I don't do apologies very well."
"Obviously."
"In my line of work, they are a sign of weakness."
"Got it."
"What do I owe you for changing the locks?"
"Nothing."
"Seriously, Miller. I expect to pay for the work done." That fucking attitude returns.
"When Kendrick Construction begins working, you'll get to spend your money. Consider this a favor."
She stares at me, looking as if she’s preparing to argue, then nods slowly. "Thank you."
"Was that so hard?"
A small grin spreads across her lips. "Torture. The words are scalding my tongue." She takes a large sip of her wine and gulps. "But the wine helps."
A hint of the woman I spent the weekend with appears and hits me square in the chest. "I think we should talk about—"
"I'd rather not," she cuts me off.
"Want to tell me why?"
"Not really. It's better if we leave it in the past."
"Better for who? I'd like to know why you lied to me."
"You weren't exactly forthcoming. I remember you telling me you worked in construction and traveled around. That's a far stretch."
"Not exactly true and anytime I tried to get personal, you shut me down."
"Because I knew the reality of the situation. Our time was limited."
I don't like the way she dismisses the subject, but I'd be a hypocrite to argue. How many times have I walked into that exact scenario? Knowing a night of sex and fun would go nowhere. No promises and no personal exchanges. I take another shot for answers. "Why did you lie to me about your name?"
"I can't explain."
"Try it."
"The night I walked into that bar, I wasn't myself. I'd just left a business dinner that hadn't gone well. When you spoke to me, I wanted to take the night off from being Ashlyn Rhodes. Ashlyn was disciplined and sharp, with a reputation that followed her everywhere. Instead, I borrowed our bartender's name and became Lily. Lily was a risk-taker with nothing to prove. No expectations. But apparently, I suck at casual hookups because my one-night stand turned into a weekend."
"I liked the woman I spent the weekend with."
"Too bad she's imaginary."
"I don't believe that. I think Ashlyn can be that woman if she wants to be. Apparently, taking risks isn't outside of your comfort zone." I motion around the room,
