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“See?” Ginny grinned, patting herself on the back. “I’m a genius.” She sipped her coffee like she’d just won something. “You might even have some money to throw at your basement renovation.”
I nodded, already counting dollar signs. “Or maybe even the mechanic.”
“Who?”
“The guy fixing my car.”
My friend shifted forward, leaning over the table.
“You have a guy tuning up your basement and a guy fixing your car?” she asked.
Just then the roar of a lawnmower split the afternoon silence. A few seconds later, Jacob went flying by the kitchen’s bay window on his high-speed stand-up machine.
“And a guy doing my lawn,” I chuckled satisfactorily.
For the next few minutes we watched together, as my ripped, dirty blond landscaper criss-crossed my front yard. He’d already taken his shirt off. It was brutally hot outside today.
“Damn Serena,” Ginny breathed. “I think I need your life.”
“My life is lonely,” I said without missing a beat. “And you just got back from Barbados after a whole week with your boyfriend.”
She giggled. “Touché.”
I raised my coffee her way and smiled. “So you can fuck right off.”
Jacob rolled past the window again, slicking his hair back with one bulging arm. The muscles flared near his ribcage, as his stomach went taut.
“Think he’s doing this on purpose?” Ginny laughed.
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” I smirked. “He could probably use something cold to drink, though.”
I went to the fridge and grabbed two frosty water bottles. My stomach was already twisted in a knot of anticipation.
“Be right back. Gonna bring him these.”
“Sure you don’t want me to do it?” Ginny asked, standing halfway.
“You’ve got a boyfriend,” I pointed out.
My friend shrugged. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“And you’re salivating.”
With a relenting sigh, she settled back into her chair and grinned. “Maybe I just have hyperactive saliva glands.”
I laughed on my way out the kitchen door. “And maybe you’re full of shit.”
Fourteen
SERENA
It was incredible, how sexy it was just watching him swallow. How the simple act of drinking water could bring out every panty-dropping feature of my landscaper’s sexy body, from his corded, grass-covered arms to his clean-shaven jawline.
“Man,” he said, dumping the last half of the second bottle over his head. “That really hit the spot.”
The water cascaded downward, beading along his high cheekbones. It dripped onto his bare shoulders and ran down his chest.
“You want more?” I asked helpfully. “There’s more.”
