I cleared my throat, forcing myself to focus.Professional. I was a professional.
“Turn around,” I said, and my voice came out slightly higher than I intended.
He turned to face me, and I saw his jaw was clenched tight, his green eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder. He was trying so hard not to look at me, and that vulnerability did something to me that I wasn’t prepared for.
I stepped closer, close enough to smell that clean soap scent again, and lifted the tape measure. “Arms out to the sides.”
He complied, and I wrapped the tape around his chest, calling out the measurement softly. My fingers brushed against his skin, and I felt him tense beneath my touch. But this time, I noticed something else too. His breathing had quickened, and his muscles jumped when I touched him. He wasn’t holding it all in today, he seemed to be reacting more than ever.
Marcus Webb wasn’t just uncomfortable. He was turned on. And he was trying desperately to hide it.
I moved around him slowly, taking measurements I’d already gotten yesterday, but going slower this time, more deliberately. I wanted to see how far I could push him, wanted to know if what I suspected was true.
“You’re doing better today,” I murmured, my breath ghosting across his shoulder blade as I measured his back. “Not quite as jumpy.”
“I’m trying,” he said, his voice strained.
I moved around to face him again, and this time I let my fingers linger just a fraction longer on his skin as I measured hisbiceps. His eyes finally dropped to meet mine, and what I saw there made my breath catch. Heat. Want. And underneath it all, fear.
“Marcus,” I said softly, setting down the tape measure. “We should probably talk about yesterday.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said quickly, but he didn’t step back. Didn’t put distance between us even though we were standing close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.
“I think there is.” I kept my voice gentle, non-threatening. “I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen. And I’m not going to make you feel bad about it. Bodies react. It’s natural.”
“You already said that yesterday,” he muttered, his jaw working.
“Yeah, but I don’t think you believed me.” I tilted my head, studying his face. “Marcus, I’ve been around enough men to know when someone’s interested. And I’ve also been around enough closeted men to recognize the signs.”
His eyes widened, and I saw panic flash across his features. “I’m not?—”
“Hey,” I interrupted, holding up a hand. “I’m not asking you to come out to me. I’m not asking you for anything. I’m just saying... I see you. And it’s okay.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I watched a dozen different emotions play across his face. Denial. Anger. Relief. Fear. Finally, he looked away, his shoulders sagging slightly.
“This can’t happen,” he said quietly. “Whatever you think you see, whatever you’re offering... I can’t.”
“I know,” I said, even though a part of me was disappointed. “You’ve got your position to think about. Your reputation. Your father’s legacy.”
His eyes snapped back to mine. “How did you?—”
“Beau might have mentioned something,” I admitted. “Not details. Just that you’re carrying a lot of weight that isn’t necessarily yours to carry.”
Marcus let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. Without the hat, I could see it was slightly damp with sweat despite the air conditioning. “My father was a good man. He served this town for thirty years. Everyone respected him.”
“But you’re not him,” I said.
“No,” he agreed, something sad flickering in his eyes. “I’m not.”
We stood there in silence for a moment, and I wanted so badly to close the distance between us. To show him that it was okay to want what he wanted, to be who he was. But I knew that would only make things worse. Marcus Webb wasn’t ready for that. Maybe he never would be.
“We should finish the measurements,” I said finally. “Pants off please.”
He swallowed hard, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob. For a second, I thought he might bolt again, just run right out of his own house and leave me standing there with my measuring tape. But instead, he reached for his belt buckle with shaking fingers.
“Okay,” he said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.
I stepped back to give him space, keeping my expression neutral even though my heart was pounding. This was different from yesterday. Yesterday had been panic and embarrassment. Today felt like something else entirely. Like he was making a choice, consciously deciding to trust me despite every instinct telling him to run.
