“Right, the water,” I say to Declan. “I got to the shop a little while ago and there’s water leaking from underneath the door between our shops. I think there might be some kind of plumbing issue over on your side.”
“Fuck,” he grumbles. “Give me a sec, I’ll be right down.”
“Right down?”
“I live in the apartment upstairs,” he reminds me, because my brain has turned to Jell-o and doesn’t contain a single coherent thought at the moment.
“Oh yeah.”
He laughs, a low, rumbling sound in my ear that has my stomach dropping all the way to my toes.
“See you in a few, Elsie.” He ends the call and my body deflates, like pulling the plug on one of those waving, inflatable tube men you see outside of car dealerships. I slump onto the nearest stool and drop my head into my arms, groaning.
“That could have gone worse,” Noah assures me, but I can hear the laugh he’s trying to hold back.
“Why does he turn me into such a brainless idiot?” I whine. “I have a college degree. I know how to file my own taxes. I can fold a fitted sheet, and this one time, I parallel parked so well that a stranger standing on the sidewalk started clapping for me. But talking to Declan? Forming thoughts and using words and tryingnotto sound like someone whose skull is full of soup? Impossible.”
“Heisdistractingly good looking,” Noah sympathizes. His hand settles on my upper back and makes small, circular motions, soothing me even as a small chuckle slips out of him.
“I heard that,” I grumble.
“Am I interrupting?” a low, familiar voice rumbles. I hop off my stool, surprised to find Declan at the back of the shop. I keep the back door unlocked, since the yard is enclosed by brick walls and the only ones who can get to it are Sean and Declan. They’d never actually used it before, though.
“Declan. Hi.” Much to my dismay, I have not, in fact, become a wordsmith in the three minutes since we last spoke. My brain? Still soup.
Noah was right – he’s distractingly good looking. It’s not just the lean muscles, or the tattoos. It’s the strong hands that make my heart strutter when they make contact with my skin. The eyes that seem to see straight through me, to all the bits and pieces I keep tucked inclose. The crooked smirk that makes me want to lash out, to dig my nails into his skin, but kiss him at the same time.
I’ve never had a height preference before, but Declan is just sobig. My traitorous mind can’t help wondering what it’d be like to be manhandled by someone of his size.
Okay, not someone of his size –him, specifically. When it’s late at night, and I picture hands sliding across my skin and fingers sinking inside of me, they’re always covered in tattoos.
I’m so used to his usual dark clothing that the faded jeans and white T-shirt with the cutoff sleeves catch me off guard. So does the look on his face. He ignores my greeting, his eyes zeroed in on Noah’s hand where it rests on my back. If looks could kill… well, things wouldn’t be looking good for my best employee.
“Declan?” I try again.
His jaw works to the side once, twice, before his eyes flit up to meet mine. Noah, finally picking up on the tension radiating off our next-door neighbor, drops his hand back to his side and takes a step away from me.
“Hi,” he says cautiously. When he raises his hands up to chest level in a show of innocence, I nearly laugh. “I’m Noah.”
Declan studies him before responding. I watch as his dark eyes rake over Noah: the perfectly styled, dark blonde hair. The white button-down, jeans and loafers, the most casual outfit I’ve seen Noah in to date. Declan’s eyes snap back to mine and he raises an eyebrow just slightly, so imperceptibly that I might have missed it if I wasn’t watching him closely. There’s an accusation there, and I wonder — not for the first time, or maybe even the hundredth — what he’s thinking.
Noah lowers his hands and holds one out for Declan to shake. After a few beats of awkward silence, Declan steps forward and clasps Noah’s hand in his own. All the while, his eyes — those dark,brooding eyes I haven’t been able to stop thinking about — never leave mine.
“Declan,” he says. “I work next door.”
“I know. I’ve seen you through the window. Elsie keeps telling me she’ll introduce me to everyone, but we keep getting swamped every time we even think about it.”
Declan doesn’t respond. He just keeps watching me.
“Did you figure out what’s leaking?” I ask, pretending I’m not about to jump out of my skin from the weight of his eyes on me for so long.
“Loose connection between pipes,” he says. “I got it tightened back up, but it must have been leaking for a while. The whole shop is under an inch or two of water.”
“Goddamn,” Noah mutters.
Declan’s eyes snap over to his, as if just remembering he’s still here. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “Goddamn.”
“I’m, um, going to just…” Noah backs away slowly, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go grab another coffee. Give you two a chance to chat.”
