Decker flicked the bill of Miles’s UCLA ball cap. “How do you feel about the way your call with Brian went this morning?”
Because while Decker handled it last night, he wasn’t letting the kid off that easy. So before the crew arrived, he woke Miles up and made him call Brian. By the silence on Miles’s side, Decker could tell it was more of a one-way diatribe and lecture. But in the end Brian gave in.
“Are you kidding? He can’t get ahold of me now,” Miles said. “I get to get my hands dirty.”
“Getting your hands dirty doesn’t always pay the bills.”
He shrugged. “At least I’d be happy.”
Decker knew Brian, and no matter how happy the kid was now, there would be an aftermath to that call. And Decker was stuck square in the middle. But if it meant getting to know his nephew and passing on his parents’ craft, then he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“That’s what you did. You followed your heart and made it in the NHL.”
“But after I blew out my knee and it was over, all that was left was this persona.”
“Then let people get to know the real you. And don’t make any more sex tapes.”
Decker ran a hand over his face, feeling the raw stubble against his palm.
Shit, it had gotten to the point that he was taking advice from an eighteen-year-old, but it was good advice. Clearly the kid knew more about the inner workings of a woman’s mind than Decker. That had to change. Because maybe he wasn’t as emotionally in tune with women as he thought.
DIARY ROOM:
Kiki: Ace is the most attentive lover in the history of me. Plus, he has a big hammer—if you know what I mean. We hammer a lot, three times a day usually, when I’m not working. In fact, we just went to a retreat. The Long Erotic Weekend. Day one you were only allowed to kiss. No hands, teeth or, uh, hammers. Night two was hands and lips only. And if you think his hammer is amazing you should see what he does with his tongue.
Producer: I was asking about your opinion of Poppy and Decker’s relationship.
Kiki: I think they’re idiots. Now are we done? This BFF is upholding girl code. Plus, we’re demoing the bathrooms today and I have a wall to run through.
16
Poppy was midway through laying out tile in the master bathroom, trying to find the perfect pattern, when she happened to look out the window and—five-alarm-fire hotness, oh my—her heart went into cardiac arrest.
The afternoon sun had peaked, leaving behind clear skies, blistering concrete, and temperatures hot enough to melt the clothes right off a man’s body. Something that, if Poppy believed in the Wish Fairy, she’d spend her dying wish making happen. Because there were enough heat-slicked biceps and a glistening tool belt on display that, even in an air-conditioned bathroom, Poppy could feel the scorch.
Her heart pumped with deadly force as everything else in her body went on standby. Poppy knew with certainty that she wasn’t over yesterday’s encounter with America’s Sexiest Goalie.
Or that kiss.
She hadn’t avoided him, even pulled on her big-girl panties and initiated their first conversation of the morning. True to his words, he’d been giving her the space she needed to process, limiting conversation to surface level. But all the work she’ddone on coming to a hard-won conclusion just flew out the window.
No matter how many times she’d told herself it wouldn’t work, that it would be a mistake of epic proportions and to get back to work, she couldn’t help but stare. One look out that window and her mouth went dry—the exact opposite of what was going on down in Lady Land.
Because there, walking across the driveway carrying an impressive stack of two-by-fours while wearing worn jeans and a T-shirt that clung to his chest with the day’s humidity, was the sexy general contractor-for-hire and that work-honed body of his. The one that had women straining for a better view.
Women like me, she thought. She raised up on her knees to watch as, in one fluid motion, Decker walked back to the pile, where he bentall the wayover to pick up another stack—proving that he had the best ass in all of professional sports. It was so firm she could bounce a nail off it. It filled out his jeans to perfection and was practically begging her to look her fill.
And she did—until the window fogged up.
“See? Distraction,” she chastised herself.
She was pressing her nose and forehead to the glass when he straightened, causing his thighs to go to war with the seams of his jeans. As he lifted the boards up over his head, it caused the most amazing chain reaction—pulling his shirt up to expose his delicious six-pack. She was certain she’d hyperventilate from the amount of muscle on display.
She bit her lower lip when it began to tingle. Not a good sign when she was thinking about a man who was once namedPeople’s Sexiest Man Alive.
“Don’t let one kiss go to your head. Not when you have a laundry list of things to get done.”
Such as finish laying out the tiles so that she could get her grout on. If the tile didn’t go in today it would hold up the hanging of the wallpaper and vanity installation. Not tomention, the kitchen cabinets were scheduled to be completed by week’s end. That’s what should have been at the forefront of her mind, not the rating scale of a man’s ass.
