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Smith moves around to the other side of the counter, and I concentrate hard, furrowing my brow and following all the steps he told me. The hammer flies through the air and green linoleum cracks when I make contact, splintering beneath the blow.
“Nice! You’re a pro already,” Smith says, grinning.
I giggle. “I had a good teacher.”
Smith comes back to my side of the counter and we work in tandem for the next thirty minutes, until the entire surface is demolished.
“Great work, Elise,” Smith says, laying his hammer down and removing his glasses. He grabs my hammer as well, lifting the goggles from my eyes. With the pad of his thumb, he gently wipes a bead of sweat from my cheek. “You’re a natural. Maybe you can come to all my jobs with me.”
I smile as he grabs my hips, pulling me toward him and dropping his lips to mine.
“I do like watching you work, especially with your shirt off,” I say, running my hands over his taut pecs.
“I can make that happen every day if you want.” He slides his tongue into my mouth, sending a ripple of lust straight to my core.
“I very much like the sound of that,” I murmur into his open mouth and he cups my ass, squeezing. We kiss right there in the kitchen, the sound of the ocean behind us, and happiness blooms in my chest. Smith slides a hand up my shirt, palming my breast and my nipples pebble beneath his touch.
“What the fuck?”
A booming, familiar voice startles me, and I jump away from Smith so fast I might have pulled a muscle.
“Harry! What are you doing here?” I cry, pulling my shirt down as my face sears in shame. The last thing I need Harry to see is me making out with Smith.
“I had to come down early. I sent you a text, but now I see why you never answered.” He shoots Smith a dirty look, puffing up his chest.
“Mommy?” Cami appears in the doorway, Colton right behind her.
Super.I wasn’t going to introduce them to Smith yet, but here we are, courtesy of Harry and his shitty planning.
“Hey, guys. This is Smith.” I nod at him and he gives a little wave. Smith stands several feet away from me now, sensing this is the proper thing to do. “The contractor.”
“Nice, Elise,” Harry mutters under his breath, and my stomach knots even as I shoot him an eat-shit-and-die look. He’s one to talk, considering he’s HR’s worst nightmare.
“I’m assuming you’re not staying in this dump.” Harry spins in a circle, taking in the construction zone, a scowl on his face.
“No, Harry, I’m not. I have a great hotel room. Kids, you’re going to love it. The pool’s right on the ocean!” I turn to them, infusing enthusiasm into my voice. “Why don’t you guys check out the bedrooms here for a minute while I move your stuff to my car?”
The kids run across the room, heading down the hallway, and I grab Harry by the elbow, dragging him out of the house and down the wobbly steps.
“What the hell? You could have called earlier and told me you were coming, Harry,” I say, unlocking my SUV.
“Sorry to break up your little rendezvous. I can’t fucking believe you, Elise. The contractor? And how old is he? Twelve?” Harry sneers, his face uglier than I remembered.
“For your information, thirty. Not that I owe you one. Older than your office sidepiece.” Bitter acid rises in my throat as I spit out the words.
“She’s not a sidepiece, Elise. She’s my fiancée. We’re getting married. In September.”
I freeze, working hard to process these words.
Fiancée. Married. September.
My mouth opens, shuts, then opens again, like I’m a guppy on land, gasping for air.
So it’s true. Harry really is moving on.
“Wow. That’s fast,” I say, my voice quiet.
Although I shouldn’t care, his words still sting.
