But I don’t. I can’t explain it. I know I should. I should just drop the boxes, tell the kid to give them to his sister, and come back Monday with the crew.
The words just won’t come. Not those words, anyway. Instead, different ones open my throat.
“Has she started packing the kitchen?” As soon as I ask, the urge to push my way inside and start helping her with the task has me gripping each box with shaky force.
The kid shrugs. “She started, but—”
“Emmett, who are you talking to?” The female voice has me looking past him, but it isn’t Millie. It’s her sister. For the life of me, I can’t remember her name either. At least I know Emmett’s now.
But when she steps up behind him and sees me, her eyes widen. “You’re Alejandro’s brother,” she says, a little breathless.
I crack a smile. “Yeah, I’m Luc.” I tuck one box under my arm and step forward to offer my hand. She takes it, but her gaze moves behind me, searching, looking hopeful.
Is she looking for Alex?Puta madre. She has a crush on my brother.
My smile widens. “I’m a contractor. We’ll be doing your kitchen remodel.”
Her eyes come back to me, alight. “Does Alejandro work with you?”
This has me smothering a chuckle. “Not yet. He’ll work with me this summer though.”
“Oh.” Clearly, she’s disappointed. Her gaze sharpens and a blush climbs her cheeks. She doesn’t have her sister’s stunning red hair. Hers is a cinnamon brown. But she’s cute. Really cute. Alex should count himself lucky. If he knows… “I’m Mattie. Can I help you with something?”
She’s going to take the boxes and send me on my way. I should be relieved. A part of meisrelieved. But another part wants to see Millie.
Who am I kidding? All of me wants to see Millie.
“I brought these to help with the packing.” I hold out the boxes, and she takes them, thanking me.
“There’s more in the truck.” I turn and head that way, resolving to hand over the rest of the boxes. Yeah, I want to lay eyes on Millie Delacroix, but what good could come of that?
None at all.
Maybe one of my Threes tomorrow should be Dating. It’s been a couple months since Ronni and I split. This redhead is the first woman to catch my eye since then, and that’s probably all this is. A sign that I’m ready to get back out there.
Carrying back the load of boxes, I’m relieved. This is an issue I have the power to address. I climb the steps wearing a self-satisfied grin and stop dead. Emmett and Mattie are gone.
But Millie, wet hair framing her face and spilling over her shoulders, stands in the doorway dressed in a long-sleeved crop top and drawstring pajama pants.
Relief—along with all the moisture in my mouth—vanishes.
I only let myself take in the expanse of bare skin at her midriff for about .3 seconds, butDios mío. Demasiada belleza.
But it’s what I see in her eyes that does me in. She’s surprised—and confused—to see me. Yet beyond that, she looks tired. Faint smudges of fatigue paint the fair skin beneath her eyes. Dressed in her pjs, her hair still wet, she looks soft, unprotected, and bone tired.
I don’t even think. My mouth just opens. “What can I do to help?”
Chapter Eight
MILLIE
Maybe it’s seeingLuc Valencia on my front porch. Maybe it’s his words. Maybe it’s standing in the open doorway with wet hair on a November night. But the tiny blonde hairs on my arms stand on end, and my nipples pebble under my pajama top. And then I do the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Ever.
I look down.
Yep. My headlights are on. High beams. Shining right at him.
And, of course, because I’ve looked down, so does he. I know because it’s like a jolt of electricity shoots through his body, and he says something in rapid Spanish. Turning a shade of red somewhere between fire-roasted tomato and old timey barn, I swiftly cross my arms over my chest and brace myself to meet his gaze.
