Page 40 of My Unfinished Heart

“Obviously.”

I follow his gaze down to my paint-covered pants which is the last place I want his eyes to go. He looks way too much like a sex fantasy for my body to behave reliably. “Here.” I reach for the scissors. This involves taking a step toward him, into the kitchen—onto the plank. But it does avert his eyes from the growing problem, so in that respect—worth it.

He stretches across the diminishing distance between us to hand me the scissors. “Have you done this before?”

“Sure. Yeah. All the time.”

He grins at me, and I’m wrecked by it. If he were anyone else, I would be thinking about how to get him onto the counter. If I were lucky enough to be invited between his legs, it would take only a moment and a murmured consent from him to start kissing him so hard and for so long that he wouldn’t be able to breathe without me. Physically, I want him that much. So much. But if it were just a physical attraction, I really think I could walk away. What’s keeping me in the kitchen isn’t physical, though. What was missing when I saw Jayne—it’s right here in front of me. His energy—his light—there’s nothing in the world like it.

“Just cut the gum out, you don’t need to do anything fancy. I can get a haircut tomorrow from a professional.” He turns around so his back is facing me. “Do you see it?”

The gum… He’s talking about the gum.

I lift my gaze from his perfectly round ass. “Yeah.” The gum is clumped into a tangle requiring about two inches of his hair to be cut off.

This a defining moment, really. Another one. This is where I decide to be who he needs me to be and not the guy who takes advantage of a situation like this. Focused now, I take the part of his hair with the gum in it and sweep the rest away. My fingers graze his skin. I watch as little bumps appear on his arm, blooming like morning glories at the sun’s first light.

I take a deep breath, but that’s a mistake. The scent of his hair invades me. Spring. Rain. A sea I’d be happy to drown in. I rub my nose, hoping the lingering paint on my hands will overpower the smell of his hair. It doesn’t.

“Is it bad?” he asks.

I mean—the question is interesting, but I think we’re still talking about the gum.

“I can fix it. We’re well within my capabilities.”

He sighs. “All right, Archer. I’m trusting you.”

I smile. I start by cutting the gum out. I pass the severed clump over his shoulder. “Jesus,” he says when he sees it.

I take the next lock of his hair into my hand, which is surprisingly steady.

“Not to make this any more awkward, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this embarrassed,” he says.

“Awkward I can give you, but I don’t see why it’s embarrassing.”

“No? So, if our situations were reversed, you wouldn’t be embarrassed? Not even a little?”

“None of the people I sleep with chew gum in bed.”

He turns and glares over his shoulder at me. “Maybe that was a bad analogy.”

I smile to let him know I’m joking. “Quit moving. Your hair’s going everywhere.”

“If you can’t handle my hair, I’ll pull it back until I find someone who can.”

“I can handle it,” I say, but I’m no longer sure that’s true.

“No more excuses then,” he says, and then he shivers.

“Are you cold?” I ask.

“A little.”

“Maybe you should wear pants the next time you start going through a man’s kitchen drawers.”

“I imagine you can control yourself,” he says, and for the first time, it sounds like he’s deliberately flirting. I like it too much.

I’m fully hard, and he’s half naked. I can no longer pretend this is innocent. I take a step back and put the scissors on the counter. They land with a loud clatter. Metal on tile.