Temporarily.
The majority of workers finally trudged off-site in clumps, and she headed to the back bedroom to grab a moment of quiet.
What if she couldn't do this?
What if she failed?
She'd always been a perfectionist, and running the office was her safe haven. She was the queen and always felt completely in control. This project was hitting all her buttons, and the voices slithered in her head, questioning whether she had the talent to deliver Adam all these houses, completely renovated, on time and on budget.
Heart racing, palms sweating, she felt the clipboard slide from her hands, and she bent over to suck in a deep breath. Just one minute to freak out and she'd pull herself together. No one would see.
A strong, warm hand pressed into her lower back. "Breathe," he commanded in a silky, sexy masculine voice that caused goose bumps to break out over her skin.
"I'm fine, I just-"
"Don't talk. Just breathe."
His hand stroked her back firmly, soothing her as much as his confident tone that promised her everything would work out. She gulped in another breath, and slowly her muscles began to loosen again. Her lungs refilled in grateful bursts.
Finally she straightened up, avoiding his gaze. Ugh. He was probably kicking himself for letting her lead this project. Tristan never lost his calm. Why did she have to be so weak?
"Stop it, now." His voice flicked like a whiplash. Startled, she swung her gaze to his, swallowed whole by the stinging cognac of his eyes, burning with heat. "Don't ever psych yourself out again. Yes, it's a lot of work. Yes, it's going to be bad. Yes, we'll get it done. Together."
And just like that, Sydney ached to topple him to the ground, crawl over that gorgeous, muscled body, and do bad, bad things to him.
"Sorry," she muttered. "I freaked for a moment. I'm good."
His features softened. "The first time I got a house to flip, I couldn't eat for two days straight. I was sick to my stomach."
She smiled. Lord, he was kind. It was even more devastating under his cool, professional surface because it was safely tucked away where most couldn't see. But he'd always showered her with care, even in his frustrating, commanding manner. "Thanks." She retrieved her clipboard, already feeling more in control.
"Good. It wasn't bad for the first day. How serious is the mold problem? We going to need a French drainage system?"
"No, it wasn't as bad as we expected. No regular leaks, so it looks like an isolated incident. We'll begin the cleanup and install the new floor."
"Good. Plumbing is solid, too. We can begin moving forward on the kitchen by end of week unless we uncover more issues."
She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, please tell me there won't be any issues."
He laughed, playfully tugging at her curls. He hadn't touched her like that in years, and she tried desperately to ward off the sweetness of the memory. "Sweetheart, there are always issues. Remember the Reidy house? The electrical ended up being shit, and I ended up over budget."
She shuddered at the thought. "That's right. You had a bit of a tantrum that week."
He glowered. "I don't have tantrums," he corrected. "Toddlers have tantrums. Men blow off steam."
"Well, you rivaled Thomas the Tank Engine then," she teased, trying to keep a straight face. "Throwing files around, bitching at Cal for not hiring the right electrician. Bitching at Dalton for breathing."
"This business isn't for the weak." He cocked his head, frowning. "Did I bitch at you for something?"
"Yeah, I paid the bill for the electrician too fast. You wanted to negotiate for a discount."
"That's right. Why didn't you wait?"
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned. "Because you never asked me."
He tried not to wince. "Oh, yeah. I don't think we were communicating well at that time."
"You think? If I didn't read your mind and stay out of your way, you behaved badly."
"I was working out some issues."
She was tempted to gloss over his answer, but a few days ago he'd been buried deep inside of her, wresting raw pleasure from her body. They both deserved more honesty from each other. She couldn't ever go back to the cold distance between them, even if they stopped at just one night of perfect sex. "Why now, Tristan?" she asked softly. "We barely spoke for two years when you got home. Now suddenly you're focused on trying to forge a relationship again. It's confusing. And it-"
"What?" He stepped closer and laid his hand on her cheek. The tender gesture tore down her barriers.
"It scares me."
He let out a ragged breath and nodded. "I know. Me too. I needed that time to sort through my feelings about what had happened between us. I think we needed that time. I'm sorry I treated you like shit, Syd. I really am. I was confused about still wanting you and didn't know what to do with those feelings."