“Blues and jazz,” I say. “Have you never heard it before?”
He smiles. “Not really what I listen to. I didn’t take you for a fan of old-timey music.”
I snort. “It’s not old-timey. There are plenty of blues and jazz musicians who are younger than us and making great music.”
He looks unconvinced. “Really?”
“Okay, maybe not plenty, but there are some. It’s a genre that’s alive and well.”
“And how’d you get into it?”
I smile at the memory. “I had to transport a cat to the veterinary clinic in Roanoke because he had an injury the local vets couldn’t handle. I had his carrier in the front passenger seat, rather than in the back, because we weren’t even sure he’d survive the trip. The way he yowled was just heartbreaking, and the only time he stopped was when I turned to this station. Two hours of listening, and I was hooked. It’s the only station I listen to anymore.”
“Do you go to the jazz and blues festival in Cloud’s Bay?”
“No. It’s kind of hard to go to music festivals with a—” Thankfully, I manage to stop myself before I finish that sentence and reveal that I have a daughter. “With a job that requires weekend hours.”
He doesn’t seem to have noticed my near slip. I have got to be more careful and stop lowering my guard around him.
“Right,” he says. “That’s too bad.”
“I take it you aren’t a fan?” I ask as he backs into my driveway and parks next to my car.
“I’ve never really given it a chance,” he says. “I listen to whatever’s on the pop station. I like a dancey tune.” His grin isso delighted that I can totally picture him on a dance floor. I bet he’s a great dancer.
We carry everything into my sunroom, and Deacon starts locating studs and putting pencil marks on my walls.
I watch from the doorway, enjoying brief glimpses of bare skin every time his shirt rides up past his waistband. He has a very nice back and broad shoulders. I really wish I hadn’t stopped at the kiss in his truck.
“Amelia?”
I look up to see him smirking at me over his shoulder. Caught! I was totally studying his very fine ass.
“Yes?” My cheeks are on fire.
His smirk grows bigger and morphs into a smug smile.
And he’s still gorgeous.
Ugh. He’s way too perfect to be standing in my house looking at me this way.
“Will you help me hold this board up?”
I hurry over and stand where he tells me. I hold the board in place while he screws in one end of it against the wall. “This is going to hold up a shelf Marmalade can use to climb higher or just sit on and hang out.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say.
He comes over to the other end of the board, and I start to step out of the way.
“Don’t move,” he says. “Keep holding up the board.”
With his arms on either side of me, the front of his body pressed along the back of mine, he quickly screws the board to the wall.
When the board is secure, he doesn’t move away from me. He lowers the drill to the floor and is back against me in a moment.
He presses featherlight kisses against my neck and jaw.
“I’m having a hard time concentrating on what I’m doing with you in the room,” he says, his voice husky.
