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"I don't need you at all." And with that, she heaved the steamer into the office and closed the door behind her.
Right. Good. That went well.
***
Removing old linoleum is a special kind of torture. It's sticky, brittle, and nasty.
Thankfully, it didn’t cover the whole floor. What had possessed Patrick to install the damn stuff? Initially, I'd been worried that there might be rot in the wood beneath it, but that wasn't the case. As I heated the linoleum and scraped it away with a putty knife, near pristine floorboards emerged.
It felt good to be doing something physical. Almost as good as exercise for keeping my mind empty of lustful thoughts.
Almost.
Now and then, I felt an overwhelming urge to go check on Elara. There were a million excuses. I could offer to buy her a coffee. I could fill her in on the condition of the floorboards. I could check YouTube had pulled through. But I stayed strong.
Right up until the point I heard the shriek.
Adrenaline surging, I bolted to the back room, wrenching the door open. A wall of heat and steam greeted me. There was Elara, backed into a corner, eyes wide with panic. The steamer, mere feet away, had gone berserk. It lay writhing about on the floor, spewing steam like an angry dragon, making loud fizzing and crackling sounds. Elara held up her hands defensively as if sheer force of will could shield her from the scalding spray.
“It’s gone nuts!” she yelped, looking to me for help.
“Damn thing,” I muttered, rushing over to fiddle with the settings. The frenzy of steam subsided, and I let out a relieved sigh. “The less water that’s left, the more fiercely it steams. And if you let go of the handle, it kinda takes over."
"My hero," Elara teased, her cheeks flushed from the heat.
"You okay?"
"Mmhmm. Just boiling."
"You might want to crack a window," I said. "Did they not mention that on YouTube?"
"They did, actually. Ugh." She glanced down at herself and grimaced. Sweat and steam had soaked through her white T-shirt, which clung tightly to her skin. Without a moment's hesitation, she pulled it off to reveal a sky-blue sports bra underneath.
My mouth went bone-dry as I fought (and failed) to tear my gaze away from the tantalizing curve of her breasts.
"Uh, yeah, get the window open. It's too steamy in here," I stammered, forcing myself to look elsewhere. Anywhere else, really. The peeling wallpaper seemed particularly fascinating all of a sudden.
"On the plus side, the paper's practically falling off,” she said, opening the window.
I nodded, trying to regain my composure. "Yeah, you're making quick work of it."
There was a pause, a moment where the frenetic energy in the room seemed to slow down. Lazy swirls of steam danced in the air, and golden light played across her damp hair, her eyes sparkling with an unreadable emotion.
I cleared my throat, attempting to steer my thoughts away from dangerous territory. "I should get back to the lino. If you need any help . . . "
Elara brushed a strand of hair away from her flushed face. "I think you're right by the way, Cole. It's for the best that nothing more happens between us."
I coughed uncomfortably. "Right. That's good."
“Yep.” She leaned against a partially papered wall, dabbing at her brow with the back of her hand. "I don't want to hurt your feelings."
"Excuse me?"
"If something happened between us. I wouldn't want you falling for me and then getting all upset when I have to leave."
I snorted, shaking my head. "That wouldn't happen."
"I'm not so sure," she insisted with a smirk.
