Me: Zilch.

Emily: Get crackin’!

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, and set my music. “You don’t have five million construction workers milling about your house, causing all kinds of distractions.”

The music helps to block out some of the noise, and before long I’m swept up into the story, my fingers tapping quickly across the keyboard.

Ty sets a steaming mug of coffee at my elbow and rests his hands on my shoulders, kneading them firmly and rhythmically. I lean back into his touch as I continue to type, his hands soothing rather than distracting me.

After a long moment, he pulls my headphones off my ears and says, “Did he really just spank her ass with a riding crop?”

“You’re reading over my shoulder?” I laugh as I look back at him.

“Of course. I’m standing right here.”

“Yes, he spanked her.” I move to replace my headphones on my head, but he grabs them and leans over me so he can see my face.

“Does that turn you on?”

“It turns her on.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

I lean away and watch his face. He’s not smiling, and his eyes are hot, almost like when he’s aroused.

“I don’t like to be hit,” I finally reply. “It doesn’t turn me on.”

“Okay.” He nods and begins to back away, but I stop him.

“Would it turn you on?” I ask softly.

He squats on his haunches at my side, turning my chair toward him so I have his undivided attention.

“The thought of striking you does nothing for me, Lauren.” He pushes my hair behind my ear and pulls his thumb down my jawline. “I might enjoy swatting your ass playfully while I fuck you from behind, but I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

He’s not Jack. I nod and take my headphones from his hands. “I know.”

“Do you?”

I meet his intense gray gaze with mine and smile reassuringly. “I know, Ty.”

“Good.” He cups my face and kisses me hard, then stands and kisses the top of my head. “I have to go to work. Are you going to be okay here?”

“Yeah, thanks for the coffee. I’m just gonna work too.” Hammering and men yelling can be heard from the back of the house. “Or try, anyway.”

“Good luck.” He kisses me once more and heads for the door. “I’ll pick you up at six for the pumpkin patch.”

I wave him off and dive back into the story, the music playing in my ears, which I’m not used to, but it’s better than the ruckus coming from my pool house.

Just as I begin to get lost in the rhythm of writing, there’s a tap on my shoulder. I jump and spin, pulling the headphones off my head and yelping in surprise.

“Sorry, Lo, didn’t mean to scare you,” Dave, the head of the crew, mutters. “But I’ve been calling your name, and you didn’t hear me.”

“I’m sorry, Dave. What’s up?”

“Can you follow me?” He leads me out of the office toward the pool.

The whole room is a complete mess. Sawdust and tools are everywhere. Thank God Michael covered the pool, or this would ruin my filtration system.

I prop my hands on my hips. “Why does it look like the whole wall has been torn down?”

“Because it has.” Dave grimaces. “It was all rotten, Lo. Could be from the moisture of the pool, but the wood was bad. I don’t know who your dad had install this, but they did a shitty job.” He points to the pile of lumber that has been torn out and tossed on the lawn behind the house.

“So you have to rebuild it?” I ask with wide eyes.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How long will this take?”

“It’s not big, so just a few days. I’ll have the guys work through the weekend.” He shrugs and grins. “It’s better to find it now, rather than have it collapse under the weight of the snow this winter.”

“True.” I’m still in shock that my pool house doesn’t have a freaking wall.

“We’ll work here until about three today, and then I’ll let the guys go while I go order more supplies and we’ll start early tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, sounds good. Thanks, Dave.”

He waves, and I stomp back to my office, resigned that I’ll have to live with this noise through the weekend.

Glancing at the clock, I see it’s already midmorning, so the early rush at Drips & Sips will be gone, and I should be able to find a quiet corner to hole up in with my computer. I close my laptop and throw it, along with the power cord and some notes, into my old computer bag and set out for the little coffee shop.

Just as I suspected, the café is quiet. I can wear my headphones here as easily as I can at home, and since I’m tucked away, I shouldn’t be bothered much.

Or that’s the plan, anyway.

And it works fine for the first few hours. Half of the coffee sitting at my elbow goes cold because I completely forget it’s there as I get absorbed in the story. I’m finally to the climax of the book, the part where we don’t know if the hero and the heroine will be able to make it through with their relationship intact.

It’s all dramatic.

Suddenly, I feel eyes on me and a shadow falls across my keyboard.

“Hey.” Jill grins and waves, holding two fresh coffees. “Can I join you?”

“Sure.” I shrug, save my file, and close the laptop. “It’s time for a break.”