“I’m going to fix your door first. I can hold my liquor, but I prefer to be in charge of all my faculties when I handle tools.”
“So very responsible,” she murmured.
“You sound like you’re having a hard time believing it.”
“I’ll bring the toolbox right away.” She blushed, then scurried off.
I went to the counter, looking at the cupboard’s hinges. It wasn’t a difficult fix. She came back with the toolbox a few minutes later, setting it on the counter.
“I bought this too.”
“You know your stuff.”
“Yes. That’s why I wanted to flip this place myself. I’m very good at it.”
“How come?” I said, then got to work.
“My parents flipped houses on the side, and I helped all the time. They insisted on paying me, but I mostly did it because I liked hanging around with them. Wait, I can help you.”
“No, you go enjoy your wine. Since I’m here, I can make myself useful. You helped pick a wine, so I’ll help fix your door. What was our catchphrase? ‘You scratch my back, I scratch yours’?”
“We’re good at that, aren’t we? Looking out for each other.”
I swallowed hard, then looked at the door. If only she knew how much I’d like to take care of her.
I got to work, hurrying to finish the cupboard so I could focus on the person who’d captured my attention.
Phoebe
I stood right next to him as he fixed the door. When he finished and turned to face me, I realized I was closer than I’d thought. Feeling the heat of his body against mine reminded me of our night together. We’d agreed that it was a onetime thing, so I wasn’t really sure what this was. Were we friends? He’d refused to even entertain the idea when I’d brought it up, and I totally understood why.
Being friends with this hot-as-hell hunk was asking for trouble.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “You tensed up.”
I took another sip of my wine, laughing nervously. The alcohol wasn’t helping. “Griffin, I,erm…I’m not sure what this is or why…”
“Why I’m here,” he finished for me.
I nodded feverishly, thankful that he’d been the one to phrase it that way.
“I don’t know either,” he replied.
I looked up at him in surprise. His eyes were a bit darker. He leaned forward, touching my jawline with the backs of hisfingers. I didn’t pull away. In fact, I did quite the opposite. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes briefly.
I’d missed him. How was this even happening?
“I know what we agreed on,” I said, “but we didn’t say anything about staying away from each other.”
“Which is good because I can’t seem to be able to do that. All day I’ve been thinking about you. About if they treat you right at your job, or if something else broke in this place.”
“You missed me that much?” I sucked in a breath.
Griffin shook his head. His eyes were darker still. “Forget I said that. I remember our conversation. It’s just that fighting my instincts is harder than I anticipated.”
“For me too,” I confessed.
He closed his eyes. I shouldn’t have said that; it just made things more difficult.
