Skylar: It wasn’t a thing before. You’re breaking new ground. And tomorrow, let’s hope we don’t break furniture.
Ford: That sounds vaguely dirty.
Oh. He’s right. It does. Maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world.
16
DID YOU KNOW?
FORD
It was a rough game last night, but I drag myself out of bed, let Zamboni into the yard, wait for her to finish, then step into the shower. It’s early, especially for me, but the water wakes me. Once dressed in jeans and a polo, I grab my phone off the nightstand.
One missed call and a voicemail from Mom. Then a text.
Mom: Did you know the Golden Gate Bridge was completed ahead of schedule? Construction began during the Great Depression and finished in 1937. It was also under budget.
I suspect this tidbit relates to the renovation—a not-so-subtle reminder of her expectations. When she couldn’t reach me by phone, she resorted to a text message. The Sausalito house is on track for both deadline and budget,but right now I need to get over there and FaceTime with Mom to show hereverything.
She’ll be apoplectic if I miss our planned video call.
Skylar also texted this morning to say the delivery would arrive thirty minutes early. I barely have time to whip up a kale smoothie and pour it into my new to-go cup. A glance at the picture and caption makes my lips twitch up.
With a final goodbye to Zamboni, I head outside, half-wishing there wasn’t this fizzy feeling in my chest when I glance at the townhouse next to mine.
A couple weeks ago, I thought my neighbor was a royal pain in the ass. Now I’ve come to enjoy the random morning sightings.
This morning is planned, however, and I’ve been counting the days, then the hours.
It’s getting to be a problem.
A dangerously sexy problem.
Skylar’s waiting by my car, a large canvas bag at her feet filled with what appears to be blankets. She looks effortless and edible in a pair of high-waisted jeans and a white top that reveals a sliver of flesh where it ends. My brain short-circuits for a second. How would her skin taste if I kissed just above her belly button? Or higher still, between her breasts?
Get it together, man. She’s your designer, and you’re about to spend the day setting up your parents’ house with her.
I take a fortifying gulp of my kale smoothie to kill the thought and manage a rough-voiced, “Morning.”
Skylar tilts her head, all faux skepticism. “Well, you sound like you just woke up. Which makes you an impostor because the Ford I know has been up since six.”
I snort, hitting the unlock button on my car. “I amnotan early riser.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I work at night a lot of the time. I think I’m allowed to sleep in.”
“Of course you’re allowed.” She flashes me a grin. “It just seems completely antithetical to your personality.”
I roll my eyes, open the door, and gesture for her to hop inside. “Get in, Skylar.”
She grabs the canvas bag and reaches around the front seat to toss it into the back. I have to physically restrain myself from swatting her ass.
I really need to clear my head.
Once she’s settled, I shut the passenger door and drag a hand through my messy hair. I take a breath, trying to reset my mind as I walk around the back of the car, get behind the wheel, and set the smoothie in the drink holder.
“Shut the front door!”
