Walker laughed, sweet and sexy. “Come on now, Sawyer’s more than a bank account.”
“He likes to keep things close to the vest, but deep down, he’s solid.”
“He can be pretty intimidating, though.”
I chuckled. “Don’t let the fancy wrapping get to you. He’s got a generous heart; he’s just learned to hide it behind handmade Italian suits.”
“Duly noted.” Walker relaxed into his chair a little more, taking another sip of coffee. “And thanks for your support. Really means a lot.”
I grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Anytime.”
CHAPTER17
walker
I’d been stressing about this build project, but talking to Ozzie earlier this week made me feel like it was doable. I’d been nervous to put a request for volunteers out on the group chat, but everyone said yes. Except Hen, who was somewhere on the other side of the planet—so instead he sent the school a ridiculous amount of money for supplies. Dr. Gardner was thrilled and said that we might get the landscaping in regardless of the city’s contest results.
Since being assigned to take over Mr. Paige’s shop class last year, I had consumed as many YouTube videos on woodworking as I could. I’d come in between shifts at the tire shop to practice my projects, and it had been a gut punch when they hadn’t gotten the engagement I’d wanted.
The classroom today, however, had a completely different vibe. This was a test run, an attempt to determine whether the bunk beds would even work, so anybody here was here of their own volition. Given the number of students from last year’s class who showed up—though I hadn’t asked them to come—we might be onto something.
“Excuse me,” Oz whispered somewhere above my ear, gripping my hips as he passed behind me, his crotch sliding against the seat of my jeans.
I put down the sander and prayed to whatever god might be listening to help me keep it together. That one touch had spiked my heart rate, seized my lungs, and made my dick want to leap out of my shorts and into his hand, mouth, or ass. I did not care.
Except I did, because students. Or something.
Oz settled into the station next to mine. I gestured to the discs we were using to smooth and polish the wood, trying not to think about how badly my hands were shaking.
Seriously, how had I not put it together that I’d had a crush on him all this time? Anyone within a three-block radius could probably tell.
Mesmerized, I watched his hands as he figured out how to attach the pad to the sander. The assembly was tricky, but he got it in no time. Despite the fact that I’d been eyeballing him like a creeper, I still startled when he leaned into my shoulder, showing me his work.
“Like this, right?” he asked.
Cheese and rice, did his voice always sound like that? Like velvet and sex and charcoal? And when had a deep voice ever been so fucking sexy?
“Uh, yeah. You’re a natural,” I answered, then wanted to swallow my tongue.
Anatural? What were words, even? And why did I sound like Heath Ledger’s character fromBrokeback Mountainall of a sudden? Had I been gargling rocks?
My mind drifted to the scene where the two characters hadn’t seen each other in forever and were kissing like the world was gonna end. I wondered if Oz had ever kissed someone like that.
Once I dragged my attention back to the project, Oz and I decided that I’d smooth with the low grit and he’d polish with the high grit, and we got into a rhythm. I’d finish a piece, hand it to him, and he’d take it home. Then one of the kids would grab it and pass it along to the test assembly team.
I tried to keep my eyes on my own wood, because if I let my concentration drift…
“Ouch,” I yelped, dropping the sander, proud I’d managed not to shout the f-word in front of my students.
“Hey, you okay?” Oz was there in a heartbeat, cupping my work-roughened hands in his larger ones. My windpipe squeezed shut again. I could barely fucking breathe with his skin on mine.
“Yeah,” I said, desperately sucking in oxygen while my hearing went fuzzy. “Just took a little skin off my knuckles. No big thing.”
Gently, he steered me to the sink station and ran the water. “Here, let’s clean you up.”
“You okay, Mr. Walker?” one of last year’s students called.
I huffed out a breath as Oz soaped up my hands and then rinsed them carefully. “Yep. Let this be a lesson in shop safety.”
