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“Luke, hi,” she said, offering him a wide smile. “How’s Ethan?”
He smiled at the mention of his son’s name, dimples flashing, and the skin around his blue eyes crinkled. “He’s fine, just like you said he’d be. Thanks again for looking after him.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I’m glad he’s okay.”
He tipped his head toward the hinge she’d just tossed back. “Did you need a hand with something?”
“Oh. I, um . . . No. It’s fine. You look . . .” Sexy. Hot. Delicious. “Busy.”
He took a step toward her and set the saw down on the floor. “Not too busy to help you.” His eyes flicked down to her lips, just for a second, and her cheeks burned.
Oh, no. This was trouble. Because she liked him, and if she was reading him right, he liked her. Granted, if he actually knew the truth about her, about why she’d left her life in Tulsa behind, he’d probably want nothing to do with her.
“Really, it’s fine.”
“Let me help you. As a thank-you for taking care of Ethan.” He smiled again, and damn if those dimples weren’t killing her, just a little.
“Like I said, you don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.” She shrugged, and he took another step toward her, erasing any remaining space between them.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Trust me, there’s a difference.” Leaning in close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off of him, could smell his clean scent of soap and freshly cut wood, he reached behind her and picked up the discarded hinge. “What are we fixing, Christie?” His eyes caught hers, and a searing bolt of lust zapped through her.
An image of Luke with his son flashed through her mind, and a wave of shame and regret crashed through her. She was damaged goods, and she had no right wanting any part of that wholesome image.
She knew that. She did. And yet she couldn’t ignore the slow burn warming her insides under Luke’s gaze.
“The, uh, see, most of the doors in my house, they . . .” She swallowed. She was having a hard time thinking standing so close to him. “Have various issues. Some don’t close properly, others are missing knobs, and some need new hinges.”
He smiled down at her. How had she not noticed how broad his shoulders were the other day at the hospital? If he took her into his arms, he’d enfold her completely, sheltering her in that strong, masculine frame. She shook her head against the feeling that she’d waded into a swamp filled with quicksand, and the harder she fought, the quicker she’d get pulled under.
“Anyway, I should let you get back to—”
“Tell you what,” he said, cutting her off. “Why don’t I come by later? I’ll take a look at your doors, see what I can do.”
Her hormones overruling any shred of sense she possessed, she found herself nodding. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.” And she really did need help with the repairs. Really.
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t.”
“I don’t know what to buy.” She gestured at the rows of hardware.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m a carpenter. I have plenty of hinges and strike plates. Just pick out the doorknobs you want. Where do you live?” He pulled a phone from his jeans pocket and stupidly, foolishly, she gave Luke her address.
* * *
“Do you want something to drink? I could make some coffee, or I have some juice . . .”
Luke peered up at Christie as she returned from the kitchen, and he smiled around the screw clamped between his teeth. He shook his head, and then drilled the screw into place, securing another new strike plate. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”
“All right, then.” She crossed her arms in front of her, pushing her full breasts up into the V-neck of her pink sweater. She’d swept her hair up into a high ponytail, leaving an extremely tempting amount of skin exposed. With a vivid flash, he imagined trailing his mouth down her slender neck, over her delicate collarbone, across the rounded peaks of her breasts, and making her moan his name in that sweet accent.
Whoa.
He normally had better control over himself, but damn if he wasn’t half-hard just looking at her, listening to her soft lilting voice. And that was a bad thing. A very bad thing. He already liked her way too much, and even worse, so did Ethan. It was one thing to put his own heart on the line. It was another to risk Ethan’s. It was his job to protect his little man, and he refused to sign him up for avoidable heartache.
“So where are you from?” he asked. Even though she’d been watching him as he worked, she jumped when he spoke.
“I moved here from Tulsa, but I grew up in Lexington.” She hugged herself tight, pushing her cleavage up even higher. Licking his lips, he swallowed, concentrating on installing the new hinges on her bathroom door. Jesus. If he kept looking at her, he’d end up with a hole in his hand.
“And what brought you to Cheyenne?”
