My jaw hangs as I pass Westley’s ute parked in front of Parlour Tricks and pull into the car park behind the building. It’s been five days since our balcony run-in. We’ve seen each other in passing, but he hasn’t been back outside the last few nights. It bugs me that it almost feels like I’m waiting for him. Listening for the sound of his door sliding open, the deep rasp of his voice saying some playful little remark.
I walk around to the front doors instead of the back. My denim jacket is twined through the straps of my bag, knocking against me with every step.
I drop onto one hip, bangles clanging as they rest against my side. “Can’t get enough of me at home, you have to follow me to work too?”
I see the smile through his beard as he continues screwing a gold plaque into the painted pink bricks.
“Good morning to you, too, Trickster.”
My face contorts. “I beg your pardon?”
“Yeah, I haven’t quite figured you out yet.” My eyes get distracted by the flex of his forearms as he keeps turning the screw. “But I will.”
I flick my hair over my shoulder, trying to hide the obvious way the guy intrigues me. “Not sure what you think you need to figure out about me.”
“Everything.”
I sway over to him, eyes locking on the toolbelt before they crawl up to his handsome face. “You couldn’t handle everything, builder boy.”
He shoves the screwdriver into his toolbelt—that thing has no business being so attractive—and twists to face me, our chests almost touching. “Now that’s a challenge I’d happily accept.”
“Too bad I’d never play the game with you.”
“You wound me.” He holds a hand to his chest, giving me a fake look of sadness, but all it does is highlight how large his hand is.
“Ha! Liar.” I shake off the image of what those hands could do in another time and place as I walk behind him, heading to the doors.
Sage and apple dance in the air around me like a caress on my skin as he leans in, speaking low into my ear. “Flirt.”
My hand rests on the giant door handles before pulling them open, fire sizzling through my veins. “Thief,” I happily bite back.
“How did I earn that name, by the way?” He tilts his head curiously, while I take a moment to stare.
He’s wearing the green checkered flannel again, paired with work boots and beige cargo pants covered in flecks of white and grey from whatever mess he’s been working with. It’s unexpectedly sexy imagining a man working with his hands. No, not man. Westley.
“If there’s a misunderstanding we need to clear up, I’m more than willing.”
Against my will, I’m squeezing my legs together. I don’t want to tell him where the name comes from. It wasn’t even meant for him to hear. Muttered to myself in frustration that the guy kept hijacking all my thoughts, like a damn thief.
I’m ready to tell him I was just joking when I watch his face go from curious to sheer panic.
“Fuck,” he breathes out as he looks over my shoulder. I start to follow his gaze, wondering what he’s looking at, when he pulls my attention back with hurried words. “What would it take for you to play along with whatever happens in the next few minutes?” he says right beside my ear.
“Huh?”
“Name your price,” he says more urgently.
I’m unprepared for how his proximity affects me. It’s the first time I’m getting to indulge in a proper look of his eyes, the specks of amber and bursts of grey around the middle, nestled in a sea of green. He looks past my shoulder again, and this time, I follow.
A woman is coming towards us, her head tilted to the side as if she’s trying to get a better look.
“Ohh, is there someone you’re trying to fend off?” I lean into him, regretting the heat that comes when his skin brushes against mine. “I don’t know, it might be more fun to see you suffer.”I shouldn’t be the only one here doing that.
“Please, I’ll do anything. Come on, Trickster? Just pretend for a few minutes.” I don’t know what makes me give in… Momentary lapse in horniness?
“Fine, my payment is pending until I think of something good.”
“Thank you,” he whispers quickly, just as the new voice reaches us.
