“You know something, Lucy?” Harris drawls, voice smooth as sin. “There’s nothing I’d rather be doing than showing you all the things I’m good at that havenothingto do with wood.”
He grins.
I roll my eyes. “Wow. You’re so subtle.”
I won’t pretend it’s easy to think standing in front of this stupidly hot, frustratingly cocky man with his golden retriever confidence, his rough hands, his broad chest, and that damn smirk that says heknows exactlywhat he’s doing to me.
Heat crawls up my neck. But still, I step closer to him, tipping my head enough to look into his pretty eyes with the long lashes. “You talk a big game, Harris. Hope your skills live up to the sales pitch.”
Wally snorts. Bill coughs into his elbow, barely concealing his laughter. Even Annabelle—who has rejoined us—presses her fingers to her temple, her secondhand embarrassment for me palpable.
“Stop looking at me like that!” I snap, though the words lose their bite.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know!”
“You’re so fun to mess with,” he adds, voice low and teasing. “But I’ll save some teasing for later.”
My stomach flips. “Later?” I repeat, half horrified, half tinglingall over.
His smirk deepens. “We have days and days to dance around this.”
“Days to dance aroundwhat?” I hear myself whisper, suddenly hyperaware of how close we still are.
Harris leans in. My brain goes into a tailspin. “To do whatever it is you want. With me.”
Oh.
OhJesus.
My throat goes dry. My thoughts goeverywhere.
“Like what?” I ask, and Ihatehow breathy my voice sounds.
His smirk widens, his gaze flickering over my face like he’s memorizing every little reaction. “You’ll figure it out.”
I don’t even get the chance to ask, because Harris chooses that moment to turn on the heel of his boot and walk away—leaving me standing there, absolutely ruined by a conversation I can’t fully compute. Brain dumb.
Later that afternoon, as Annabelle and I gossip about him at Loon Landing Café, she leans across the table, transfixed.
“Days and days to do whatever you want?” She scoffs. “Told you to your face you could doanything?” She leans back against the chair. “Damn. That guy issofreaking hot.”
I stab at my iced coffee with a straw, watching the ice spin. “I can’t believe anyone would say that to my face. I was shook.”
Annabelle gives me the most exasperated look I’ve ever seen. “Lucy, the man handed you an opportunity, and you fumbled it.”
I groan again, avoiding her searing gaze. “I didn’tfumbleit—I strategically avoided a potential disaster.”
She throws her hands up. “What disaster? A ridiculously hot guy flirting with you?”
“Yes!” I point at her like she’s proving my own point. “Yes. Exactly that. Thank you for understanding.”
Annabelle stares at me blankly. “That isnota disaster. That is a dream scenario.”
I scowl, dropping my hand. “It’s atrap, Annabelle.”
Her eyes narrow. “Lucy, it’s a shirtless, wet, gorgeous man flirting with you. Where is the downside?”
