“What?” he asked, feeling a surge of energy from the merriment dancing in her eyes. His fingers itched to touch the slight crinkles in the corners.
She swallowed and pulled her hand away, forcing a serious expression. “I mean. . . if you’re going to rob a bank . . . I don’t recommend stealing gold bars.”
“Why not?” he drew his eyebrows down. “They’re perfect because you can melt them down, remove the serial numbers, and then sell them.”
“You’ve contemplated this crime before, I see.” She tipped her head from side to side as she considered his logic. “I think I’d go for cash. Easy to spend. Easy to hide in a mattress.”
“Easy to trace.” He tickled her side. “You’d be in jail before the end of your first shopping spree.”
She squealed and jumped up a step. “And you’d be caught on your way out the door because there’s no way you’re running from the police with a hundred pounds of gold bars.” She mimed lumbering along with her arms full.
He tickled her again, wanting more than anything to make her laugh. She did, her smile stretching across her face and lighting up his world. “Stop!” she yelped off balance and fell into him, her hands resting on his upper chest.
The air grew thicker, heavier, and charged. He could touch metal and make a spark–or maybe just touch her. Suddenly, the horrible parts of his day melted away. His eyes dropped to her lips, level with his since she stood a stair above. His heart rate kicked up and his palm warmed where it rested on her side.
She stepped up one more tread. “I, uh, should check my laundry.”
He nodded slowly, not quite trusting his voice. His tongue was dense and sluggish. He moved up a stair, drawn after her in a way he couldn’t explain. She shifted her hands, and he steeled himself for her touch, anticipating her fingers in his hair and the soothing it would bring to his frazzled mind.
She suddenly dropped her arms and dashed up the steps.
He dropped his chin to his chest, feeling the loss of her body heat in the small staircase immediately. He’d let her have a head start and put all the space between them she needed. He needed it, too. He retreated to the kitchen and took a long drink of water. His throat was parched, but he didn’t feel like the failure who had walked into the kitchen.
Nope. Clove’s laughter had flipped a switch inside of him. He felt whole again.
“Weird,” he said out loud before cautiously making his way upstairs to take a shower and change.
Just because he felt better didn’t mean it was because of Clove. Right? He could have had the same conversation with Judy, Hannah, or Otis, and he’d feel better. He’d laughed. Laughter was medicine–wasn’t that what people said?
He ran his hand through his hair. Okay, maybe Judy wouldn’t have the same effect on him. He doubted either Otis or Hannah would have made his heart prance like a reindeer during the first snowfall of the season.
It was possible he was attracted to Clove. Heck, he’d noticed how pretty she was the first time they met. And her laughter? Gorgeous. So, yeah. His spirits would lift when a pretty woman laughed.
It didn’t have to be a big deal.
Unless he made it a big deal.
Which he would not.
Definitely would not encourage his little crush to grow.
Nope. No watering the seeds. That wasn’t his style. It took a ten minute shower, getting dressed again, checking on Felix, and then tossing in bed for a good forty minutes before he was ready and capable enough to ignore the feelings Clove planted inside of him. That was all.
He had his slight fascination with Clove under control and he wouldn’t slip up again.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Clove pressed her palm against the wall where the pipes rushed with water for Drake’s shower, wanting to have a connection with him that was safe. Touching the wall that touched the pipe that brought the water that filled the shower was about as safe as she was going to get while living in the same house. And yet, it was almost more than she could handle.
Hewas more than she could handle.
It wasn’t like he was trying to seduce her or anything of the sort. He didn’t drop a cheesy pickup line or smolder at her with his dark-earth colored eyes. He teased. He verbally prodded her into frustration. He laughed–a sound that was warm and melodious, like a bass choir humming.
He tickled, and she was so very ticklish. No one had bothered to tickle her for a long time though, and she felt this untapped pleasure inside of herself that he’d somehow stumbled upon her giggle button.
That sounded so childish, but it was true. She didn’t get to be a child when she was one. No wonder she enjoyed it so much now.
Learning about herself, seeing things inside of her that she hadn’t before . . . all this was because of Drake. The experience was under-a-microscope intense and she’d run away; charged up the stairs, desperate to get away from the sparks pulsing between them. The sense of freedom and letting go was too strong, too much for her to stay there and experience any longer.
