Please. That was so clearly bullshit.
I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “How long until the girls get home?”
His shoulders dropped slightly as he checked his watch. “Ninety minutes.”
“And you want that all set up before they do?”
“Yeah.” His jaw worked.
“How’re you tracking?”
He looked back at the scattered metal pieces, then at me. His exhale was long and controlled. “Not good.”
“Seems like you could do with a hand, then. And, you know, I owe you one, so I’m happy to help.”
He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides. I could practically see the argument in his head: pride versus deadline. He looked from me to the trampoline and back to the watch. “Okay, thanks. I’ll get the gate.”
I was so surprised by his acceptance that it took me a moment to realize he was crossing his yard to the gate that separated our two properties. I almost stumbled as I rushed down the steps and hurried to my side of the gate.
The bolt was old and rusty from disuse, and I heard him swear softly as he wrestled with it. It finally scraped open, and he dragged the gate wide, gesturing me through.
As I moved past him, I chose the wrong moment to take a deep breath. Holy shit, he smelled so good it made my head swim. Clean sweat and cedar and something else that made my pulse spike.
My second mistake was glancing up at him. At five foot ten, there weren’t many men I had to lookupto. Jeez, he must be like six four at least. Maybe even six five.
“Three years I’ve lived here, and I didn’t even know this gate opened.” My words came out high and breathy, so that was fun.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, well, I had no reason to want to visit the previous owners.”
“No?”
He sure was quite the conversationalist, wasn’t he?
“No, they were very loud and annoying. You’re… different.”
“I like to keep to myself.”
“Makes sense. Now, where do you want me?”
Jesus Christ, why did I make that sound so suggestive?
“I’m trying to set it up over here, between these two trees, as per the diagram Audrey drew for me.”
Wasn’t that just too stinking cute?
“Well, we’d better give her what she wants. Just tell me what to do.”
He handed me a pole. “Hold this steady while I connect the joint.”
I gripped the metal where he indicated. He moved in close to line up the connection, and the air around us suddenly felt very thin. His arm brushed mine as he worked, warm skin grazing mine. I focused on keeping the pole from shifting rather than noticing how his forearms flexed as he tightened the bolt. Or how his hair fell forward across his forehead when he concentrated.
Jesus, Emily. Hold the pole. That’s literally all you have to do.
“There.” He stepped back, and oxygen rushed back into my lungs. “One down.”
We moved around the frame, falling into a rhythm. Him positioning, me holding steady. My arms started to burn from holding the poles at awkward angles, but it was the good kind of ache. Better than the hollow feeling of being alone in my empty house.
