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I forced a smile. “Unfortunately. It’s all healed up. I just wear the brace when I’m running around.” Or dancing for five hours a night.
Tatum balanced on one leg, pulling up the leg of his shorts and showing me a matching scar on his left knee. The evidence of arthroscopic surgery was minimal, having faded over time. “Tore mine back in high school. PT’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Looks like we have something in common.”
“I’d ask how you tore yours, but considering you nearly kamikazed off the island, I’ll take a wild guess and say that it was a work-related incident.”
Work-related. Sure.
“Something like that.” I turned away from Tatum and pushed my wire stripper and screwdriver out of the way. “In my defense, I was listening to music and thought you weren’t going to be back for another hour.” I pointed toward the headphones that had clattered on the island when Tatum scared the bejeezus out of me.
He assessed the exposed electrical boxes overhead. “You sure you know what you’re doing? I thought you just—”
“Bought art and barked orders?”
He shrugged.
“Like I said—” I hopped back onto the island and began to hook up the new light fixture “—I’m hands-on.” He was silent for a few moments as I screwed the crossbar back in and connected the wiring. I peered over the smooth planes of the brushed gold fixture. It was still modern, but the finish brought warmth into the room. Instead of run-of-the-mill recessed lighting, the rectangular pendant lights hung lower over the island. They added visual interest and a sense of intimacy.
“You know,” Tatum said as he moved toward the fridge, confident that I wasn’t going to dive bomb again. “I was kind of annoyed when Sam said an interior designer was going to be coming in and out for a few weeks, but I could really get used to having my own handy ma’am.”
“A man who isn’t threatened by a woman who can wield power tools,” I mused. “I could really get used to that.”
We shared teasing laughs before going back to our respective tasks. I didn’t miss the way he kept a watchful eye on me from his spot on the couch as I closed the light canopy and made sure that everything was secure.
It had been a while since I’d had a one-night-stand. The beauty of that arrangement is that I usually didn’t have to see the man again. I knew when I crawled into Tatum’s lap last night that things would be a little awkward for the next few weeks. Hence why I jumped out of my skin when he showed up earlier than expected.
I’d planned to be out of his house by the time he got home today. Two days had passed since our hookup. At least a little of the post-coital awkwardness had dissipated. Now we could keep things professional.
But the odds were not in my favor. Tatum was watching me from the den, his feet kicked up on the coffee table that was too small for the space. Every time I moved, he looked up from his phone. It was unnerving and empowering all at once. I liked the way his gaze made me feel desired. The way he looked intrigued by my presence.
“So,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “You’re a big fan of Rhode Island football?”
“As much as anyone else in the state is,” I mumbled around the screw trapped between my teeth. I screwed in the lightbulbs and gave the fixture one more assessment. Noting that Tatum hadn’t said anything after my non-answer, I glanced over my shoulder. He was staring intently at me, dark eyes boring straight into my soul. “What?” I said with a laugh. “If you’re thinking of a how many blondes does it take to screw in a lightbulb joke—”
“Nah.” His lazy smile turned my stomach inside out. Butterflies flapped to life in my gut. “Just thinking about the other night.”
My cheeks burned like they had touched the asphalt outside. Slowly, I lowered myself down and hopped off the island. I landed with only a dull twinge of pain in my knee—a good sign considering I had been on the move for days on end and wouldn’t be slowing down until February. “Once I get this cleaned up, I’ll get out of your hair.” I motioned to the discarded corpse of lamp and lightbulb boxes and a miscellany of tools that were scattered all over his kitchen.
Tatum cocked an eyebrow. “Hot date tonight?”
I smirked. “Me, dunkies, and dinner.”
“Ah. A coffee addict.”
“I’m a Rhodian through and through. My favorite place is this little pie shop in College Hill. The coffee they brew is from a local roaster, and they’ve got a wicked cheddar apple pie. It’s ridiculous. The owner is a total sweetheart. But Dunkin’ is closer to my apartment and my office. I think I’m on a first-name basis with every barista within a ten-block radius.” I froze with the wire stripper in my hand and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I’m talking a lot, aren’t I? I’m not used to having clients around when I’m working. I usually keep the running commentary in my head.”
Tatum toed off his sneakers and reclined on the couch. His large frame barely fit on the cushions, and the bottom half of his legs hung off the end. He propped his back against a run-of-the-mill throw pillow. “I like hearing you talk.”
“How has the transition been for you? Packing up your life and moving from Washington State out here must be quite the adjustment.”
“It’s been alright.” Almost cautiously, he added, “I grew up in Boston, so it’s not that different. It’s just been a while.”
“Do you have family here? Friends?”
“Some.”
I eyed him over the armful of exploded cardboard boxes in my arms as I walked them to the service entrance’s trash chute. “You’re not going to elaborate on that?”
