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I grinned. “We build houses. Usually just new construction, hardly any renovations, but we used to do that too. I’m from a small town west of here,” I said.
Ivy exhaled a quiet laugh from her nose.
“What?” I asked.
At first, she didn’t answer, but her study was a tangible thing in the dark.
I nudged her knee with mine. “Come on, out with it.”
“Nothing. It’ll sound intolerably forward.”
“Oh come on,” I cajoled. “What else do we have to do?”
She sighed, straightening the skirt on the wedding dress. “I was thinking about how disgustingly cliché this is.”
My lips curled in a smile. “Yeah?”
“I’m stuck in an elevator with a ruggedly good-looking small-town builder,” she said in a pointed drawl. “We’re one plot device away from a cheesy Christmas movie.”
I kept my eyes locked on her from across the space. “You think I’m good looking, huh?”
“Don’t be crass, you know you are.” She exhaled slowly, like she was put out by this entire conversation. “Men always know when they’re good looking. It’s why most of you are obnoxious about it.”
“Was the almost fiancé good looking?” I asked.
And what a dick question it was. Like it mattered.
But somehow, it did matter. I wanted to know what kind of man caused her to run.
She settled her head back against the panel.
“He’s pretty,” she said carefully. “Pale skin. Blue eyes. Two hundred years ago, I’m sure the women would’ve had the vapors the moment he walked into a room. But he’s not my type. I prefer men who are tall enough that I can wear my favorite shoes and not gain intimate knowledge of the top of their head.” Ivy sniffed. “Plus, he had toothpick arms and clammy hands.”
“Ahh. Now I know why you ran.”
Her lips curled up in a smile. “He didn’t have your hands,” she added slyly.
My eyebrows popped up. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, who’s flirting now?” I asked.
Ivy didn’t say a damn word, simply stared me down.
Gently, I nudged her knee with mine. “Come on. You owe me that explanation.”
“Do I?”
She was arching one of those eyebrows as she said it. I knew the tone well enough from the millions of times my sisters pulled that facial expression.
“No,” I answered simply. “I’ll just sit here and agonize over what you could possibly mean.”
Ivy sighed, like she was horribly put out, and I couldn’t stop my smile. She straightened her posture, looking about as regal as anyone could on the floor of an elevator in a vintage wedding dress. “Fine. It was your palms,” she stated calmly.
I held them out. “My…”
Her eyes were locked onto mine, and she didn’t drop them. Goose bumps prickled down my arms. “Your hands, when you shook mine, I noticed that they were…”
