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Her mother would be eating this up.
“This is the wall,” she said.
“How big do you want it?”
“How big can you go?” she asked seductively.
There went the blush to his face again. Now this was a game she could get on board with.
“I can cover the whole wall if you want,” he said.
“Damn, talk about impressive,” she said, her eyes dropping to his crotch.
“You’re killing me, Grace,” he said.
“Good,” she said. “The feeling is mutual. Just answer me this, what are you waiting for?”
“You,” he said.
“How much clearer do I have to be?” she asked.
“Clear enough to ask and not joke, assume, or make innuendos,” he said. “A guy can’t take any chances and I don’t want to mess up.”
She stopped for a second and realized everything she’d done had been hints and jokes. Innuendos.
He was right.
She wondered if this went back to him talking about being burned.
She wished she knew more.
She’d never been one to shy away from anything before and wouldn’t now.
She moved closer to him and grabbed his hand. “Before you get all sweaty building my shelves I want to get you all sweaty in my room.”
She pulled him across the living room and toward the stairs without saying another word.
All he did was laugh and she took that as an answer enough.
When they got to her room, he asked, “Are you sure?”
“Very. I think you wore the tool belt as the final tease.”
He slowly started to unbuckle it, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’d swing it around in a dance for you, but then if a tool came out and broke something I’d have to fix it.”
She burst out laughing.
This was the Lincoln she’d been waiting for. The one she’d seen joking with Egan for years. Or heard he was like.
“It’s about damn time. It took you long enough.”
“No comment,” he said.
“That’s right,” she said. “No more talking. At least not right now.”
His tool belt was removed and laid down, then his shirt came up and over his head. “Oh my. You’ve got a tattoo.”
If she’d known that she might have creamed her panties. She was close to doing it now.
