“Give me a minute,” he shouted out as he worked near the floor.
I set the tray down and sat back on the couch, waiting for him to finish. Since he gave me a perfect view of his firm butt, I stared at it like I was watching a good movie. To make sure he didn’t catch me ogling him, this time, I picked up several papers laying on a dusty box next to me and placed them in front of my face. Every few seconds, I peered from behind them and watched him like the thirsty woman I was.
Although his dark jeans were baggy, his pants hugged his butt just right. It was firm and the perfect shape. His back was magnificent, too, with his rippling muscles flexing beautifully as he picked up tools from his toolbox and twisted them back and forth over my furnace. He grunted several times, making me wonder how freaky he might be when he was on top of a woman. When he was done with his task, he wiped his hands on a towel next to his knee and straightened his back to examine his work.
I dropped my paper and set it on the closest table, resting my hands in my lap and sitting upright like the innocent first-grade teacher I was.
Amari turned and smiled before sitting next to me, sweat popping off his sexy body like bubbles. He reached for his shirt and handed me his cloth.
“Do you want to help me dry off?”
Did he really ask me that?
I shook my head and raised my hands.
“Nah, you got that.”
“Just seeing if I still got it.”
You most certainly do.
Like before, he slowly wiped his face and chest off before tucking the cloth in his back pocket.
I handed him his drink.
“Thank you.” Amari shook its contents before taking a swig of the dark amber liquid, which he all but gulped before setting it back on the tray. He licked his lips.
“I needed that.”
“It’s the least I can do since you’re giving me a ridiculously deep discount.”
He cocked his head.
“How do you know how deep it is?”
“I searched for repair costs before you came. Your quote was extremely low. I also know what you did for the kids at school.”
Amari rubbed his neck and looked down. A faint blush stained his cheeks.
Last year, at one of our parent-teacher meetings, my principal shared that 20% of our students were food insecure. Since Farmerton was a small town with very proud people, those in attendance were surprised at that statistic. People debated for almost an hour about whether to bring in fresh food to the community and assist those in need. One of the senior teachers noted that most people didn’t want to be stigmatized and might not accept help. We left the meeting with no viable solutions to our problem.
Within a week, an anonymous donor gave the school a generous check to pay for needy students’ meals for the year. Everyone thought it was someone outside the community until our gossipy school secretary told me that the kids were able to eat because of Amari Snowden.
“Nobody was supposed to know about that.”
I reached for his hand and squeezed it.
“Because of your kindness, those sweet angels will have their bellies full every day. Who needs a Secret Santa when there are Amari Snowdens in the world?”
Amari picked up his glass and hid his smile behind it, although there was barely anything in it. It pleased me that I wasn’t the one blushing for once.
He was a simple, generous man who was observant without being overbearing. That humility drew me to him even more.
He set his glass down again.
“Speaking of kindness, you’re generous too. It’s hidden, just like my donation. We’re similar, don’t you think?”
I nodded.
