“But you know what? I do.” She carefully descended the ladder, the hard plastic of her cast clunking against every metal rung on her way down. When she finally reached the sidewalk, she whirled on me. “I want to look outside with my mug of hot cocoa and see pretty lights. And since you won’t let me pay you for the photos—”
“It’s only fair since I broke your—”
“And you insist on making up for breaking my foot, even though that wasn’t your fault.” She stalked closer, stopping only when we were toe to toe. “This is the least I can do.”
A smile crept across my face. “Thank you. It looks perfect.”
“Almostperfect,” she said. “But it’s still missing something.”
She scurried over to a plastic tub brimming with decorations and bent over to reach inside. I blew out a breath and turned away to conceal my hard-on.What a fucking creep.Here she was, putting up holiday lights on my house like Santa’s favorite elf, and I could barely contain my erection.
“This should do it.”
By the time I turned back around, she was already halfway up the ladder. “Wait, you’ve already done enough,” I told her. “Please, let me do that.”
Ladders made me nervous on principle; beautiful women on ladders downright terrified me.
“I’m plenty capable, thank you. Besides, it needs to be just right.”
“But your foot—”
“Is fine. You seriously need to stop treating me like I’m breakable. Besides, it’s going to look great, I promise. Almost—”
I was racing across the patio before it even happened, sore muscles long forgotten. One second, she was tacking a nylon Santa to the roof shingles, and the next, she was falling backwards, hand searching for something to catch her.
And she found it.
The breath whooshed out of both of us when she landed in my arms. For a moment, we both stayed there just like that, clinging to each other and trying to catch our breath. Her nervous gaze bounced between the ladder and the hands woven tightly around my neck, just beneath my beanie. I knew she could feel my ragged pulse and that it matched her own. There was also no use hiding the erection prodding her side, not when her lush curves were pressed so close to me.
“Are you okay?” I wheezed.
She nodded.
“Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“I’m going to need your words, Janelle.”
She swallowed and loosened her grip. “I’m okay,” she answered softly. “You can put me down now.”
“Not yet.”
I wasn’t ready to let her go just yet, and she wasn’t complaining. Eventually, I walked us over to her side of the courtyard and dropped her down into the wicker chair on her patio—her favorite reading spot. I had seen her tear through more than a few thriller novels while cozied up in that chair.
“That was . . . exciting,” she said.
“That’s one way to put it.”
I crouched beside her, gauging her face for any sign of distress but finding none. Surprise, maybe, coupled with a hint of embarrassment, but otherwise, she seemed okay.
That makes one of us.
My heart had plummeted out of my asshole when I’d seen her teeter on that ladder. That was twice now I had watched her fall, and both times had left me breathless.
Because I couldn’t imagine going to sleep tonight without touching her, without knowing that she was okay, I lightly dragged a finger across her cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Nellie’s doe eyes blinked up at me, silently pleading with me to say something, do something. To take the lead.Interesting.Something told me that Nellie wasn’t used to letting go of control, and yet maybe that was exactly what she needed.
Maybe that was what I could give to her.
