“Tasty, huh?”
“Mmhm.” She snatches more tots from the bag. “So good,” she says, popping one into her mouth. “Want some?”
“I’m good.”
“Not a fan of tots?”
“They’re okay.”
“Because you strike me as a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”
“I am,” I say. “But more meat than potatoes.”
“Oh?” She tugs at the front of her top like she’s struggling to circulate air. “So you’re a big meat guy?”
At the sight of her blushing, I decide to ignore the chance at a big meat quip. “Believe it or not, I won first place in a barbecue contest.”
“Really? When was this?”
“I was nineteen, just after high school. We needed a new roof on the house, and the grand prize was one thousand bucks. Mom always said I made the best pulled pork around, so I gave it a shot and I won.”
“Wow.” Her eyes rake my torso, then back to my face. “Did you cook without a shirt?”
“Say what?”
“Sorry, that was rude. I just meant…well, if I were judging a barbecue contest, I’d give extra points to a guy who looked sexy while cooking.”
“Uh, thanks?” The thought of grilling sans shirt makes me squeamish. “Maybe I’ll let you try it sometime.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Your meat?”
“I make a huge batch the first Sunday of every month. That’s when Safeway has a big sale on pork, so I do up enough to last me the month. It freezes well.”
“That’s amazing.” She sounds legitimately impressed. “Who knew you were a guy of so many talents?”
“Anyone who bothered to get to know me?” I wink as I say it so it doesn’t seem snarky, but I’m sure she still hears it. “I don’t suppose you have a dead blow hammer?”
She blinks. “A what?”
That was probably a dumb question. “It’s a type of hammer designed to deliver maximum impact with minimal rebound or damage to the object. It’ll have an oversized head and—” I stop when she starts to turn red. “A rubber mallet would also work.”
“I—don’t think I have a rubber…a rubber…”
“Mallet.”
“Right.”
“That’s okay. I can make do with my ball peen.” I reach for the tool on my belt and watch Hazel’s throat bob.
“What’s a ball peen?”
It sounds sorta filthy when she says it so breathy. Probably the heat. “It’s more of a metalworking hammer.” I should have brought my regular claw hammer, but I was rushing to get here. “Never mind. I’ll just be gentle.”
I take a few whacks at the wood in my hand, doing my best to drive the two pieces together. The notches are stubborn and the wood’s pretty soft, so I’m careful to use just the right amount of force.
Too much and I’ll damage the shaft of this rail. Too little and the parts won’t fit snugly together. I wish I had some sort of lubricant. I consider asking but stop myself.
Pretty much every thought I just had would sound sexual if I said it out loud. If Hazel’s got rules for cursing in the nursery, I doubt she’d appreciate dirty talk.
