He laughed. “It’s part of the job.” Everything was just right when Maia was in his arms. That’s just all there was to it. He hadn’t gone to the premiere believing that there could be anything left between them, not after the heartbreak he’d caused. But standing here in his mom’s yard, holding Maia against him and feeling her pulse pound in time with his, he believed in secondchances.
She sucked in a ragged breath. “We should probably get towork.”
His arms went slack. They used to be on the same wavelength—being able to hold a conversation with little more than eye contact and the touch of a hand. But if she was thinking about working, then they were most definitely not thinking about the samethings.
He took the ear protectors off and placed them on Maia’s head. They were much too big and flopped down, dragging her hair over her eye. She laughed and pushed them back up. With a slight adjustment, they stayed inplace.
“What are you going to wear?” sheyelled.
He chuckled and pulled one earpiece out to the side. “You don’t have to yell. I can still hearyou.”
“Oh.” She puffed her bangs off her forehead and he let the earpiece settle back inplace.
“I have an extra set in my tool belt.” He turned on the compressor and picked up his tool belt, securing it around hismiddle.
Maia’s eyes rounded and she glanced quicklyaway.
“What?” He looked himselfover.
“Nothing.”
Oh no she didn’t. He folded his arms to wait herout.
“Stop that!” She swatted athim.
“Stopwhat?”
“Stop with the Mr. November impersonation.” She fanned her face. “You’re overheatingTexas.”
Mr.What?
She shoved him, though it didn’t move him at all, and neither did it help clear up his confusion. “If I wanted a calendar full of football players in tool belts striking poses, I’d ask for one forChristmas.”
Now it was his turn to blush. “I’m not trying to pose for you.” What did she think, that he couldn’t wait to flex? That he was some kind of mindless football player who only cared about his next set of squats and a proteindrink?
She sighed. “That’s what makes it so impressive. You can’t helpit.”
Okay, that might have melted him. He’d forgotten how easily Maia handed out compliments—like she had no filter. Which was one of the reasons he’d fallen for her in the first place. Every day he watched what he said, where he stepped, who he talked to for how long—even how loudly he chewed his food. He was constantly aware of his body, his voice, and his actions. Not Maia. She was free. Free and flying through life. Man, she wasbeautiful.
Isbeautiful, he amended as he watched her capture her tongue between her front teeth as she examined hiswork.
Chapter Twelve
Maia kepther gaze on the planks, certain that they were much safer, even with their jagged edges, than seeing that look in London’s eyes again. How one man could possess that much magnetism was well beyond the laws of physics. It was like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. And, to be fair, the adult versions of London and Maia werestrangers.
Except he didn’t feel like a stranger. Being with him was as easy as singing through warm-up scales. They’d always been able to talk and tease, and their grown-up selves hadn’t forgotten that fineart.
His touch was familiar and yet it sent her heart into a crazy samba, complete with sashaying hips and hand flourishes. Man, it washotinTexas!
“Will you hold this down so I can nail it inplace?”
Maia glanced at the tabletop, where several other boards had already been set as she held the board down. “How’d you do this before I got here?” she asked over the pop-hiss of the nailgun.
He smiled but didn’t answer. Instead, he popped nails into the other end and reached for another board. Maia dropped her chin to her chest to hide her grin. He’d invented a job that would keep her close. While she was mildly insulted to be of less use than a clamp, she was thrilled he wanted to be withher.
The table itself was kind of ingenuous. He’d dismantled several wood pallets, probably ones that would have been thrown out. The table base was just wide enough that he didn’t have to cut the pallet wood at all; he could just lay the slat on top and secure it inplace.
They were running out of boards. Rather than interrupt London’s rhythm, she headed over to retrieve a few more slats, grateful she wore gloves because the wood wasn’t exactly manicurefriendly.
