Page 33 of Unspoken Love

“Shit.” He pulled back quickly. “I need a shower.”

She blinked and, after a second pause, laughed. “We both do. Besides, you don’t stink that bad.”

And just like that, his mind went there. Them. Together. Naked. Wet.

A groan escaped his lips as he tried to clear the image from his mind.

“Nate,” she said, taking his hand, “we could…”

He took a deep breath.

“I meant what I said before,” he said, his eyes still closed. “I want more.”

She had stilled and was silent. He opened his eyes again to see her looking down at their joined hands.

“I’ve never been in a real relationship before,” she admitted without looking at him. Then she glanced up at him slowly. “I may screw it up.”

His smile was quick. “I’m willing to take that chance.”

Her eyebrows arched slightly, and she started tugging him toward his bedroom. He stopped her.

“Nope, if we’re going to do this, then we do it right.” He pulled her back into his arms. “Which means, I take you out on a real date. Maybe two or three before…” He nodded to the bedroom.

“But it’s the…”—she mimicked his nod—“that I want now.”

He smiled and placed his lips over hers. “Trust me, we will get there.” He deepened the kiss until he felt her melt against him. “Sooner or later.”

He felt her groan as she playfully shoved at him. “I take it back. You do stink.”

He laughed and realized that if he didn’t let her go now, he might not have the strength to resist carrying her into his small green shower and taking what he wanted.

“Come on, let’s clean up before it gets too dark in here. Then I’ll walk you to your car.” He leaned in and kissed her once more quickly. He needed to feel her lips once more and wanted to dream of her taste.

Chapter Eleven

By the end of her second day off work, Faye’s entire body ached form all the work she was doing at Nate’s place. Her hands and arms hurt from using the paint sprayer for hours without breaks, and her legs and back were hurting now because she’d helped Nate lift heavy boards into place on his new deck.

Still, she had loved every minute of her time helping.

Even though they had only finished half of the back deck before the sun set on her last day off, she was excited about all the changes she’d helped make around the house.

Thankfully, the paint was dry enough that she could pull down all the plastic covering the windows so that the sunlight could stream into the rooms and they could see the full beauty of the freshly painted walls.

Everything looked fresh, like one of the pieces of the project was complete. The air smelled cleaner now, too—less of that sharp paint scent from the day before. Nate had mentioned that he’d left all the windows open overnight, and it seemed to have worked. Most of the strong odor had faded, replaced by a crisp breeze that carried in the scent of the ocean.

How was she going to focus on work over the next few weeks, knowing he was here working on the place when she wanted to be here helping?

And she didn’t just want to be here because he worked without a shirt on most of the time. Sure, that was an added bonus, but she really did want to help out. It had awoken something deep in her that she had never known she needed before.

Her dreams were filled with painted walls, new door handles and windows, and gleaming hardwood floors.

How was she supposed to go back to making coffee, stocking books, and selling pastries now that she had gotten a taste of what was quickly becoming her greatest addiction?

The morning sunshine streamed through the big windows at the Brew-Ha-Ha, as rays snaked across the hardwood floors and the tops of the bookshelves. Faye leaned against the counter, idly flipping through a new arrival—some fantasy novel with a castle on the cover—and glanced out at the slow-moving foot traffic along Main Street. A few tourists meandered past with ice cream cones already in hand, while a couple of kids darted across the crosswalk, heading toward the beach, towels trailing behind them like capes.

It was the kind of lazy summer day where even the espresso machine seemed to hum at a slower pace.

She let out a long sigh and tapped the book closed.