“C’mon, boy.” I clicked the leash on Cornbread’s collar. The big mutt bounded toward the backyard, dragging me along like a sled dog in the Iditarod. Some things never changed.
We rounded the corner of the house to find the crew installing the irrigation system. Tate stood in the middle of it all, tablet in hand, blonde hair escaping her ponytail as she gestured at the plans.
My heart did a slow roll in my chest. It had been doing that long before this whole engagement situation, but after that kiss last night? The one she’d initiated without an audience and then run from? The sensation hit twice as hard. I was so gone for this woman.
“Looking good,” I called out. It applied to both her and the job.
She whirled around, tablet clutched to her chest. A blush crept up her neck. “What are you doing here?”
“Bringing moral support.” I nodded toward Cornbread, who’d already flopped onto his back for belly rubs from Miguel.
“You’re supposed to be resting. Or re-acclimating. Or something.” Her message was clear: You’re supposed to be giving me space so I don’t have to face the fact that I’m feeling things I don’t know what to do with.
“Done plenty of that.” Okay, I hadn’t done a damned bit. But all that could wait. I crossed the yard to stand beside her, close enough our shoulders almost touched.
Miguel abandoned Cornbread to slap me on the back, hard enough I had to brace myself. My dog whined at the loss of attention, rolling to his feet. “About damn time, boss. We’ve had bets going for years about when you two would get your heads out of your asses.”
“You have not,” Tate declared.
“Oh yeah, we have.” Jamal wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “The way you two are around each other? Not exactly subtle. Hell, we’ve had a whole pool going.”
“Yeah?” I asked with interest. “Who won?”
“Turns out nobody. None of us thought you’d manage to do something about this while you were deployed,” Serena said. “But good on you for seizing the day.”
Tate’s fingers were white around the edges of the tablet, and she looked a little desperate. “We’re friends. We’ve been friends for most of our lives. This is how friends behave.”
“Naked friends,” Miguel snorted.
“There was no naked friending!” Color blazed across Tate’s cheeks.
“Before,” Jamal corrected with a wink.
Tate’s eyes met mine, and the air between us crackled with possibility. Her gaze dropped to my shoulders, lingering on my chest before trailing lower. The flush on her face deepened, and her breath hitched, and I knew she was imagining me naked. What was going through her head? Was she thinking about doing wicked things with me? Because I sure as hell was.
We had a dirty job. Sweat and grime were a daily reality, but my mind often wandered away from the discomfort. How many times had I imagined dragging her into the shower at the end of a long workday, seeking a different kind of satisfaction? That image hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath and sending a surge of desire through me. I could picture it so clearly. The steam rising around us, my hands sliding over slick, soapy skin, her back pressed against the cool tiles as I lifted her up until her legs wrapped around my waist, and I drove into that sweet, welcoming heat between her thighs.
The crew’s voices faded away until all I could focus on was the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Lips I now knew the taste and shape of. I wanted to learn the taste and shape of the rest of her.
“Okay, that’s enough!” Tate’s voice cracked like a whip. She spun toward the crew, tablet pressed against her chest like a shield. “Back to work, all of you. Those sprinkler heads aren’t going to install themselves.”
Everyone scattered, though Miguel and Jamal exchanged knowing looks that made me want to high five them.
Tate rounded on me, jabbing a finger into my chest. “And you—if you’re going to hang around instead of taking time off like you should be, you might as well make yourself useful. The mulch delivery just arrived. You can help spread it in the beds we prepped yesterday.”
I caught her finger, using it to tug her closer. “Whatever you say, boss.”
She yanked her hand back like I’d burned her. “I mean it. Work or leave.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I gave her a lazy salute, enjoying the way her eyes narrowed. “I absolutely came prepared to get dirty.”
A strangled sound escaped her throat before she spun on her heel and marched away, ponytail swinging. I held in a grin. God, I loved watching her walk away almost as much as I loved winding her up. Not that I’d ever tried winding her up like this before. We couldn’t avoid talking about that kiss forever. But for now, I’d give her space—just enough rope to realize running wasn’t the answer.
In the meantime, some hard, sweaty labor, like spreading mulch ought to get rid of this inconvenient hard-on. At least for a little while.
Ten
Tate
