Page 3 of Full Throttle

“I can edge the higher parts,” Cherry informed me. “I’m quite capable of climbing a ladder.”

I tilted my head, studying her. “I’m well aware you can probably do anything you set your mind to, Cherry G, but why don’t you save the climbing for later?”

“Later?”

I leaned down, grinning at her. “You can climb me.”

“In your dreams.”

I dropped my voice, bending close to her ear. “Oh, you’ll be starring in those, Cherry. Trust me.”

Her eyes widened, and the flush on her cheeks was deep this time. She tossed her head, her braid swinging side to side. “You are too much.”

Unable to resist, I picked up the heavy braid and tucked it over her shoulder. The hair felt soft under my fingers, and I had to tamp down the impulse to lift it to my nose and inhale the soft scent. “Or maybe, I’m just enough.”

“We need to start painting,” she insisted, looking flustered.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Her ass was spectacular when she bent over. I had her start on the other half of the hall, ogling her shamelessly every time she added paint to her brush then stretched down to edge the trim. I was faster, but I purposely slowed down so I could watch her longer. We didn’t talk much, but on occasion, one of us would ask a question.

“Are you liking it here?” she asked. “It seems like a nice little town. Safe.”

“It’s great,” I agreed. “Far better pace than Toronto.”

“And safe,” she repeated.

“Safe, yes,” I agreed, sensing she needed that reassurance.

“Chase seems very nice.”

“He is. He’ll watch over Hannah. We all will.”

That earned me a wide smile. I wanted more of those.

“So, her mother,” I mused. “Still finding that hard to believe.”

“I had her when I was eighteen. I’m forty-six. Entirely possible.”

“Two years younger than me.”

“Is that relevant? You like women younger?”

I chuckled. She was determined to paint me with the wrong brush. It was amusing. Vexing, but amusing. “No. Two years is perfect.”

She abruptly changed the subject, making me grin. “Do you like painting?” she asked.

“It’s not my favorite hobby,” I admitted.

“Why are you here, then?”

I leaned on the ladder, meeting her eyes. I wanted to be sure she heard me. Understood me.

“Chase is my friend. He’s a great kid who’s had some bad raps in his life. I care for him a lot. We get along well. He needed help—I’m there for him. He’d do the same for me. Hell, he does it for everyone. It’s his time to get shown he means something. So, anything he needs, anything Hannah needs, I’m there.” I paused as her eyes widened. “I look after those I care about, Cherry G. There aren’t a lot of people I call friends, so those I do get all of me. Painting? I’m in. Moving some furniture? Let me rub on some Voltaren, and I’ll be right over. Had too much to drink and need a ride? There in five. Need to talk? The coffee is on. Whatever you need. That’s what a friend does.”

Something in her face softened.

“That goes for you too.”