"Has your sister seen it?" she asked.
Clay shook his head and set about putting his tools away. "Not yet. I don't usually show her things until they're done because then she'll bug me non-stop. Makes it hard to work when she's calling me every day and asking for status updates."
"So, she's impatient like you, huh?"
He smirked as he put the rotary sander away and rolled up the compressor hose. Dylan watched as he tidied the workbench and the tools on the racks. Hmmm. He seemed to be an organized soul. She wondered if he was this meticulous in his house. If he was, that could be an issue because she was a pack rat and every flat surface in her house tended to be cluttered. It was mostly with books, magazines, and papers, but clutter was still clutter.
She almost laughed aloud when he grabbed a hose and vacuumed up all the sawdust from the floor and other surfaces. "What's that?"
He grinned. "It’s a dust collector. It keeps the shop clean and makes it safer."
As he closed the doors at the rear of the shop and turned off the lights, Dylan said, "I have a confession to make."
He glanced at her in confusion. "You do? What is it?"
"I'm kinda messy."
"Okay," he said, drawing out the word. "Are you worried about it or something?"
She gestured to the immaculate wood shop. "I can't help but notice that your shop is so clean it almost looks like you don't work here."
Clay threw his head back and laughed. "Worried I'm going to judge you and call you a slob?"
"Uh, yeah."
He came toward her and hooked an arm around her neck. "Don't worry. I don't mind if you're a slob. I'm only this clean in the shop because sawdust everywhere can be a safety hazard and I have to put my tools away or I'll never find them when I come in to work tomorrow. My house never gets messy because I only eat and sleep there. But if I did spend more than eight or nine hours inside of it on a daily basis, it would probably gross you out."
Dylan didn't believe him for a minute. "I bet you're the type that doesn't own a lot of stuff, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "Why don't you come inside and see for yourself?"
She nudged him in the gut with an elbow, laughing when he grunted. "Oh, I didn't elbow you that hard. And is this some sleazy invitation along the lines ofwanna see my etchings?"
Clay grinned down at her. "Nope. If I wanted to get you in bed, I'd just ask."
He would, too. Dylan didn't doubt it because it was obvious that Clay was a straight shooter. He didn't skirt around the truth. He said what he thought and he didn't give a damn if people didn't like it.
Honestly, it was refreshing not to have to deal with a bunch of passive-aggressive bullshit.
"That's fair," she said.
Clay paused before he asked, "So, you gonna sleep with me?"
Dylan had to laugh. "Not right now. But you'll be the first to know if I change my mind."
"I guess I can live with that," he said.
She couldn't resist teasing him a little. "I guess you really want to get out of setting up your social media accounts if you're that desperate."
"Hell, I won't complain once if you want to use sex as a bribe."
Dylan shook her head and followed him into the house. "Nope."
"Damn," he grumbled. "All right, then I guess you can come in and get the nickel tour before you start torturing me with social media."
"Awww. You never know, Clay," Dylan said, rubbing his arm. "You might enjoy it."
He grumbled beneath his breath. She had no idea what he said but she still laughed.
