I grab my jacket from the hook beside the door and hand it to her.“Wear this.”
“Thanks.”She pushes her arms inside, the jacket hanging off her like a loose parachute against the floor.She suggested we sit in the outdoor chairs I dragged in, but I don’t trust them after one collapsed under me.
I plonk down beside her and stare at the box of cereal still on the counter because it’s less daunting than the sight of Chloe wearing my sweatpants without anything underneath.Now,there’sa mental image I could get lost in.My dick thickens, and I shift positions to nip that train of thought in the bud.
“Don’t suppose you’ve got a pair of tweezers,” she says, inspecting one of her fingers.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who owns tweezers?”I tuck a wayward curl behind my ear.
“Don’t you have a tool for everything?”
She blinks at me, and all I can think about is Chloe asking to borrow my hammer.
“What do you need tweezers for?”I ask.
She holds up a forefinger.“I got a splinter when I was fixing the shutter at Mugs.”
“Gimme a look—I’ve got a degree in those bastards.”This week alone, I’ve probably had seven.
Chloe offers me her hand, and my fingers fold around hers.I use my fingernail to gently scrape at the skin over the splinter.She hisses, and without thinking, I stroke my thumb back and forth over her palm.I can feel her gaze on my face, but I manage to stay focused on the tiny brown sliver, gently pressing down on the opposite end until the splinter pops out.
“Wow,” she says, inspecting her hand.“Impressive.Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
I have this sudden urge to take her hand back, to hold it for no other reason than I want to.
Instead of giving in, I get up and pad into the kitchen to open the fridge.The light cuts across half my face as I glance at her.“You want something to drink?Water?Juice?”
Chloe smiles.“Do you have anything stronger?”
I grab two bottles of a local beer, then wedge a packet of corn chips under one arm and a jar of Supremely Spicy Salsa under the other.My occasional snacking after dinner used to piss off my last girlfriend.She was big into this intermittent fasting shit and watching me “stuff my face” at all hours of the day made it too hard to keep to her strict regimen.She didn’t understand what it was like to be six-foot-four and two-hundred-and-twenty pounds.Food keeps me upright.
I sit back beside Chloe with my stash and hand her a beer.
“You really do like things super-hot, huh?”she asks, nodding at the dip.
“The hotter the better.”
She digs out a corn chip and crunches into it.“Okay, so far, I’ve got spicy foods… punctuality… burned coffee… locking doors… big-word books…”
My beer pauses halfway to my mouth.“Whatbooks?”
She lifts her chin at the Mandela biography sitting on the arm of one of the outdoor chairs.“Didn’t know you were such an intellectual under that hard hat.Brains and brawn—nice combo.”
One side of my mouth lifts.Most folks who know my family think Gray is the only one of us with any brains.It’s kinda nice for her to notice.
She drags another chip from the bag, smirking.“So, what else do I need to know about you?”She asks, licking orange crumbs off her fingertips.My gaze slips to where her tongue drags lightly along one side of her finger.
Fuck me.I really shouldn’t have worn these shorts.
I end up telling her a bit about my family and my brothers, and she shifts closer, listening like she’s trying to figure me out.
“So, why construction?”she probes.
I grab a chip and sweep it through the dip.“I sort of fell into it as a summer job and I liked it more than I expected.I get to work outside a lot, build things with my hands, and watch someone’s dream come to life.No two days are the same, and it keeps me in shape, which is a bonus, because the thought of going to the gym makes me want to set fire to myself.”
She smiles as her eyes run the length of my torso.“Sounds like you love your job.”
