The Builder. Grayson Reyes-Cole

      Devon walked into his living room with a cocky swagger. Literally. A man didn’t have to put clothes on in his own house, did he? If there was anyplace a man could be naked, it was in a place where he paid the mortgage.

      Miss Green had her back turned while she sipped bottled water and stared out the windows of the French doors of the west-facing side of his living room. They displayed a phenomenal view of the mountains and the beautiful sunsets, but were impractical when it came to keeping the living room warm in the winter. They begged to be on the east-facing side, begged for the warmth of an optimistic sunrise. Almost forgetting his guest, he turned to look at the east wall and stroked his chin. He’d do both. He’d keep the sunrise and the sunset. His brother, Aaron, had always liked rooms with a lot of light and color.

      The walls were ivory, but after he installed the second set of French doors, Devon was thinking of painting them a warm red to complement the supple, shining maple floors. Well, currently there was a dirty tan carpet—a tragedy if there ever was one—covering all the floors except the kitchen and bathrooms, but Devon knew what was beneath. He’d done the appraisal himself. Under the carpet waited hardwood—perfect, sturdy, brilliant hardwood. He rubbed his hands together, itching to peel back a piece of the nasty carpet to see the wood. Whenever he thought about renovations, about the potential of a house, he became impatient, ready to get to work. Every project absorbed him almost to the exclusion of—Miss Green! He’d almost forgotten her.

      When she turned around, she let out the most satisfying little gurgle, nearly choking on her water, but Devon was impressed at how quickly she recovered. Apparently, she was used to naked men. She probably had to be, considering all the time she spent wrangling conceited football players, even in the locker rooms. Jada confirmed his theory with her next words.

      “If you think you’re going to intimidate me with your nudity, please know that bigger men than you have tried.”

      It was Devon’s turn to drop his jaw and widen his eyes. That was rude, incredibly rude. He absolutely would not look down.

      Instead, he said, “Miss Green, I’d really like to go back to bed. After I get some sleep, I’d like to rip up my carpet and then take some measurements for new cabinets and drapes.”

      “Drapes?”

      “Cabinets and drapes,” he repeated, his eyes wide. “So why don’t you give me the keys to my house, go back to Dane and give him this message: There’s no need for us to continue with this nonbinding extension, or probation as you call it. There’s no need to worry about me being a loose cannon. There’s no reason for you to continue being my nursemaid. Effective immediately, Miss Green, I’m retiring from the sport of football. Tell Dane he’ll get a letter from my attorney within the next three days making it official.”

      Apparently, something could make the cool Miss Green...well...lose her cool. Her voice was hollow, shaky, when she asked, “What are you talking about?”

      “I need for you to keep up, Miss Green.” Devon leaned against a bookshelf, then leisurely crossed his bare ankles. “I’m quitting. The extension was an understanding, not a binding agreement, as Dane obviously told you.”

      “Are you nuts?”

      “Are you sure you’re a counselor? I’m sure ‘nuts’ ain’t a professional diagnosis.”

      “Are you high?”

      “I think everyone knows I don’t do drugs.”

      It was true. After having an aunt and then a cousin die from an overdose, Devon had been

      a walking public service announcement against drug use.

      Miss Green chewed her lip. Time to switch tactics apparently. “You can’t quit, Devon!” Her voice was all indignation and desperation; the lovely Miss Green was truly distraught.

      So Devon pressed his advantage. He reached down to get her jacket and purse. Then he slapped them into her arms, turned her around and marched her to the front door, being extra careful to not to crush up against her, which he was certain would have been disastrous for them both. “Yes, I can. Cheer up. I’m positive my early retirement releases you of any commitments associated with me. So you can run along now.”

      He opened the door and the frigid air poured into his house and caused gooseflesh to rise over his naked body. He paused for just a second to take in the beautiful vista offered by the Blue Ridge Mountains braced against a pale, near-colorless blue sky.

      “You can’t do this,” Miss Green told him, almost urgently. “Goodbye, Miss Green.” Devon shut the door in her pretty face. That face, that day, would haunt him for years to come.

       Chapter 3