Well Built (Book Boyfriend #3)(40)

She wasn't spontaneous by nature, but in that moment, she decided to do something impulsive. Heading to the coolers where the drinks were kept to chill, she grabbed two six-packs of butterscotch beer, a non-alcoholic soda handcrafted by a guy the next town over. It was one of the market's bestsellers, along with the delicious cream soda he made.

She grabbed a few of the guy's business cards and slipped them into her back pocket, then walked out of the store with her peace offering and headed toward Kyle's truck. As she neared, Kyle and the three other men glanced in her direction, and she put on a nice, hospitable, welcoming smile.

"Hey, Ella," Kyle said, his tone polite but irritatingly reserved-and she hated that he was being so cordial. As if he hadn't seen her naked or spent hours touching every single inch of her body or heard her shamelessly scream his name when she'd climaxed from the most exquisite pleasure she'd ever experienced.

She exhaled and reminded herself that Kyle's lack of enthusiasm was her own doing. That he was merely abiding by the friendship rules she'd established between them before leaving the city a week ago. It was difficult to fault him for that, yet she couldn't deny that it made her feel more than a little disheartened.

"Hey, guys. Thought you'd like something other than water to drink with your lunch." She lifted up the two six-packs and explained what the bottles of soda were and set the two cartons down on the tailgate next to where Kyle was sitting, then added the business cards from her pocket. "And just in case you like it, here's the vendor's information. He makes weekly deliveries into the city."



       
         
       
        

Kyle passed out the bottles of butterscotch beer to each of his friends. "Ella, these three guys are my business partners," he said, surprising her with the introduction. "Wes, Max, and Connor," he added, pointing at each man as he said their name.

She smiled at each of them while trying not to think about how hot and sexy Kyle looked wearing a leather tool belt around his waist. "It's nice to meet you all."

"Ahhh, the mysterious Ella Fisher," the good-looking guy named Wes drawled as he twisted the cap off the bottle before taking a long drink.

She lifted a curious brow, somehow suspecting that Wes was somewhat of an instigator, even though he wore a charming grin. "Mysterious?"

His eyes flashed with a wicked sense of humor. "As in, we finally meet the woman responsible for Kyle's shitty mood this past week."

Kyle glared at his friend. "Shut up, Wes."

Wes merely laughed. "It's the fucking truth."

"Totally the truth," Max added with a nod, then tipped the bottle of soda to his lips to hide his own grin.

Ella could only imagine what Kyle had said about her after the way things had ended between them, and honestly, she wasn't upset. He had the right to confide in his guy friends, just like she did with Claire-and clearly, the one named Wes obviously liked to give Kyle a hard time.

Ella glanced at the last guy Kyle had introduced, Connor, recognizing him from her impromptu visit to Premier Realty over a week ago. "I believe we kind of met at your office," she said to him, because in actuality, they hadn't said a word to one another. He'd merely given her a curt nod she'd found strange, then quickly dodged around her and left.

He cringed in embarrassment. "I'm really sorry about that day. I didn't mean to be rude . . . "

She waved away his apology. "Please, don't worry about it. It was an odd day the whole way around."

"Damn, this is good stuff," Max said, checking out the label wrapped around the amber-hued bottle. "I might have to order a case of it."

"I hope you do," she encouraged with a smile. "You'd be supporting the local merchants who are trying to make a living selling their handcrafted wares."

"Ahh, a couple of cases, then," he added with a friendly wink before finishing off what was left in his bottle.

She returned her attention to Kyle, determined to break the ice between them. "So, how's it going in there?" she asked, nodding toward the building.

"Good." He pushed his fingers through his dark hair, the ends around his neck damp with sweat. "It's going quicker than we anticipated, so we should be done with the cleanup in a few hours. I hope we weren't being too loud and bothersome." 

"It's fine." She smiled at him, but his expression was unreadable. "I know it has to be done, and I know it can't be an easy task. Old Man Piedmont was the worst kind of hoarder."