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“You’re playing with fire.”
“The girlfriend isn’t around, right? Introduce me.”
Dave had been watching her out of the corner of his eye while he worked. Katrina Blanchard was his female equivalent. She was tall, built like a brick shit house, with a head full of red curls that she’d tied up in a ponytail, so she looked like a teenager. When Maggie called his name, he stopped short, unable to take his eyes off Katrina. He realized he was holding his breath.
“Dave!”
Maggie dragged her friend over. “This is Katrina.”
“We know each other,” he said, finally breathing, grinning down at her, trying to focus on the pain on his shoulder so he didn’t get an erection.
Feeling like an idiot, all she did was smile at him.
“I guess I’ll see you around,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.
“Maybe.”
He laughed, walking back to Steve’s truck, but he looked at her over his shoulder once more and smiled.
On Monday night, after Katrina got Calista home and locked behind closed doors, and made sure Alphé and his kids settled in for the night, she left for her own house, and she was restless.
Locking her car up in the detached garage, she walked around to the front yard so she could get the mail, when a sheriff’s car drove by slow, slow, slow, and stopped. Waiting, she held her breath, watching it turn to roll up into her driveway.
The car stopped, and nothing happened for a moment. She stood statue still, her hands folded in front of her, eyes wide with a big smile on her face. The door finally opened, and Dave Chastain in all his glory unfolded his body out of the driver’s seat. He wore civilian clothes, blue jeans and a black T-shirt that strained across his chest, cowboy boots and a three-inch-wide leather belt with a holster buckled on it.
They just looked at each other, smiling.
“Can I come up?”
She nodded, but the sun was down long ago, and he couldn’t see her for sure.
“I hope you’re nodding. Are you nodding?”
She laughed. “Yes. Come up.”
She waited for him to reach her on the walkway, and she looked up at his face. He was so sweet, grinning down at her. Energy flowed from his body to hers, and the hairs on her arms rose.
Unable to resist, she had to touch him, something appropriate in front of her house. Reaching up with one fingernail, she started at the edge of his T-shirt sleeve and gently stroked his arm in one long continuous movement down to his wrist, never taking her eyes off his face. When her finger reached his palm, he grabbed her hand. His skin was warm and dry. She wanted to follow the path her finger had taken with her tongue. It would be better to wait until they got inside because she would be unable to control herself. Gooseflesh followed, and he shivered, the smile still on his face as he brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it, leaving a ghost of a kiss behind. A sob escaped her, and he nodded, squeezing her hand again, pulling it to his chest.
Slowly turning to the house, aware of him right behind her, she walked up two steps to the porch, and using the light on her key fob, she keyed in the combination to the door lock. She could feel the heat coming off his body he was so close to her. Looking at him over her shoulder, she whispered. “One seven six nine.”
This time, it was his turn to nod, repeating the numbers. “Seventeen sixty-nine.”
The interior of the house was dimly lit, recessed lighting at the front of her bookshelves illuminated just enough. She stood aside so he could get by, and then she locked the door.
She had a choice; she could grab him, wrap her legs around his waist and screw him into oblivion. Or she could make him coffee.
He had a choice: make small talk or grab her and kiss her. It would be too obvious if he kissed her right away. He would try to be polite, would try to help her move beyond the emotions they were both feeling that might have the power to carry them away.
Throwing her bags up on the counter, she turned back to him, smiling.
“Here we are.”
“This place is amazing.”
“Thank you. I’m not used to it yet.” She looked up at Dave, and resigned, made the touch choice. “Would you like coffee?”
“I’d love coffee.”
