“Okay, so that was Remi you were talking to?”
“Yes.”
After a beat of silence, she asked, “Can I say something truly fucking unnecessary?”
“Why not?”
“Are you sure?Because it’s not a helpful observation.”
“Lay it on me, lady.”
“He sounds hot.”
I groaned.“He is.”
“Not that it matters.”
Letting my head fall back on the headrest, I gritted my teeth.“It does not matter.”
Chapter Eleven
Remi
Ithadsnowedovernight.A fresh blanket of shimmering white covered the ground—smoothing over but not filling the little paw and body prints from Furry Furg.I wondered absently how her rash was doing as I scraped the pavement clean.The vibrations shivered up my forearms in front of Alicia’s half of the duplex.
I’d already finished on my half and the snow from my driveway.The thought of stopping there had crossed my mind, but then I’d heard Brooks’ question from the other afternoon and decided not to.
It had been just over a week since our lives collided.I was still dealing with the whiplash, but I didn’t mind cleaning up snow.The morning sun shone golden light everywhere.My hands were warm inside of my gloves.The physical labor kept my body temperature high enough that I was almost too warm in a sweatshirt and overall snow pants.Under my hat, my hair was damp from exertion.It was productive and satisfying.
I’d finished her walk and was moving on to her driveway when her side door opened.She stood in the doorway blinking at me and the mounds lining the cement path.She wrapped her soft pink bathrobe tighter across her front, fighting back the cold.I wouldn’t say that my memories of her body were unwelcome, but they were inconvenient—persistent images flashed through my mind: her soft, hot skin under my palms and her taste on my tongue.
“You don’t have to do that.I can shovel my own snow,” she said dragging me back to the present.
My stomach flipped at the sound of her voice, but I forced an easy grin at the shovel as I scraped it along the dirt drive.“Hey, Alicia, how are you?”
Her eyeroll was practically audible.With a voice as dry as the air, she remarked, “Hi, Remi, I’m fine.How are you?Some snow we got last night.”
Chuckling, I leaned my forearm on the tip of the wooden handle.
Her hair was piled atop her head in a single scrunchie—russet waves cascaded down one side of her face.Warm sunlight illuminated the faint smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose.Her skin was smooth and creamy, and her lips were a pale rose.In the light, her amber eyes were almost golden.
I scraped the toe of my boot at a patch of ice, needing to look away from her.Her beauty made my chest ache.I remembered this feeling; her loveliness was bad for my health.
“I’m fine, thank you.Just enjoying my morning.”I took a fortifying breath before looking at her again.“I know you can shovel your own snow.But I would do this for any neighbor.I don’t want to treat you worse than I would treat anyone else.I can stop if you want me to.”
She pursed her lips to one side and considered the remaining work to be done before her eyes slid back to me.The glimmer of amusement almost did me in, almost friendly in its comfortability.“I mean ...if you’re enjoying your morning ...”
I grinned down at the ground.
“And it is such a good workout,” she went on.“I wouldn’t want to take this healthy exercise away from you.”
“So thoughtful.”
“I know.I’m practically doing thisforyou.”
“Practically.”
She lifted a cotton-clad shoulder and turned to go back inside.“Well, that’s that then.”
