Page 43 of Where the Snakes Sleep

“With you it does.”

I nod in faux consideration. Then say, “You’ve improved.”

He turns a pebble in his palm, eyes wary. “Really?”

“No.”

I sip the cool morning air as he mumbles, “You’re such an asshole.”

“So I am told.”

We stand in a comfortable tension—him kneeling among troubled blocks, me looming above with nothing to offer. I could guide his hands, choose broader foundation stones, angle each new course for balance, and rebuild the shifted rows in minutes. My impulse to help brushes against my will to abide by my new plan.

So I say nothing.

He hesitates, then fits a stone into place. Adjusts it. Looks at me. I remain silent. He plants a second block. Then glances over his shoulder. “You’re not going to tell me I’m doing it wrong?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Would you like me to?”

He frowns. “Not particularly.”

“Then I won’t.”

He stares, unsettled. “I thought you’d be physically incapable.”

“I possess extraordinary self-control.”

His gaze drops toward my trousers. I lift one brow; he reddens.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, pursing his lips and avoiding my eyes.

“I said nothing.”

“You were about to.”

“I was not.”

“Your face was.”

“My face is innocent.”

“Your face has never been innocent.”

I sense something shifting between us—an electric current of irritation and attraction entwined. I’m tempted to ask for a quick fuck.

Or at least a few minutes to suck on that sweet cunt of his.

“I’m going into town,” he says, impervious to the growing bulge in my pants, standing and shaking grit from his palms. “Need a few things. Also have to talk to the hardware store woman about window measurements—if she hasn’t decided she’s sworn off English again.”

Normally, I’d offer a ride, given that my car rests a mere thirty metres down the drive, but I simply say, “Enjoy yourself.”

I do briefly consider alerting him about the car from last night, but decide that refraining from doing so is still the best option for now.

He blinks. Something like hope or calculation flickers in his eyes. He shifts his weight. “Oh.”