“You make the best noises,” she whispers almost under her breath, and I stop chewing and look at her. “Sorry. It’s just…whatever. I didn’t say a thing. Let’s change the subject. Why did you pick construction?”
“It kind of picked me,” I reply, but I really want to go back to talking about the noises. I’d love to tell her just how much I would like to find out what noises she makes when she’s satisfied. “I needed a job and a friend needed guys who could do manual labor, so I took it. I did a lot of years just hammering nails and hauling drywall and lugging debris. But I liked it and the idea of fixing stuff, and making old places new again, was appealing so I took some online classes in business and project management and a weekend intensive in renovating and building codes.”
“Well for something you fell into you’re busting your ass at it and doing a good job,” she says quietly, almost like she’s embarrassed to give me the compliment.
I grin at her and lean closer. “Did you just say something positive about me?” I glance up at the roof and then out the window.
“What are you looking for?”
“Locusts falling from the sky or the horsemen of the apocalypse,” I say and she laughs and gives me a playful shove.
“Stop with your snark and eat your lobster like a good boy,” she says, but the smile on her face brings me that same inner warmth and happiness that Duke’s did earlier. I’ve never felt so pleased with myself for making a woman smile. She looks like the Winnie I remember—relaxed and beautiful.
I hit play on the laptop and we watch the rest of the show while eating the lobster rolls and sipping our beers and all I can think is how content I am with her just here—being her—and in my space. A space I haven’t really let anyone into for a very long time.
Does she feel it too?
12
Winnie
How does a man turn me on just by eating food? Holy crap, watching him devour that roll and throw back his beer is the most sensual thing I’ve seen in my life. My attraction to him is rising to undeniable levels and it’s starting to make me panic. I can’t do this right now—not with him. I’m still so upside down emotionally and in my life in general.
I get up, under the guise of getting us another beer, but really I just need to not be so close to him. If I stay on that bench seat, right next to him, I will lose the ability to control myself and end up kissing him again. And I won’t stop at kissing. Jesus, how am I supposed to spend the night here with him a few feet away?
“Can I help myself?” I point to the fridge and holding up my empty beer bottle.
He gives me that seductive smirk he seems to have perfected in adulthood. “You can help yourself to whatever you want, Winona.”
That spark of desire in my belly turns into a fire licking its way through my veins. I should probably drop all the blankets and jackets I’m swaddled in and go back to the house so I can cool off. Instead, I open the fridge and pray the cool air will keep my cheeks from turning red. I pull out the beers and when the door swings closed it ruffles some papers on the counter. My eyes glance over, to make sure nothing fell, and the words catch my eye. The first page, in Holden’s neat handwriting, is a list of names. Right Renos. East Coast Renovations. Coastal Homes. New Old Homes.
I pick it up and walk over to hand him his beer. Holden sees the paper in my hand and looks uncomfortable. He stands up and reaches for it instead of the beer. “You don’t need to see that.”
“What is it?”
“I’m brainstorming,” he mumbles and folds the paper and shoves it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Company names. I have to file the paperwork to officially register my business and I’m trying to figure out what to call it.”
“Hendricks Homes,” I say simply because it’s a no-brainer if you ask me, but he just shrugs. “Seriously? It’s the perfect name.”
He finally takes the beer from me and twists off the cap. “Nah. I think I’m leaning toward Coastal Homes or Coastal Renos. What do you think?”
I twist the cap off my own beer and take a slow sip before answering. “I think that’s shit.”
Those wolflike eyes flare and he looks almost wounded. I decide to soften my approach. “What’s wrong with your name? It’s your business.”
He takes a long, slow breath and his expression darkens. “Because when people in this town hear Holden Hendricks they think That’s a trustworthy guy I want in my house? That’s what you think, right?”
He is being sarcastic and my face flushes but this time, hormones have nothing to do with it. I’m embarrassed for being called out. He gives me a bitter smirk and takes another sip of his beer. “I’m sorry.”
“Saying you’re sorry for something that you truly believe is bullshit. Don’t do it,” he says tersely and drops back down onto the bench by the table.
I place my beer on the counter with a thud, no longer thirsty. “If you wanted people to actually believe you’d changed you wouldn’t be lying about hanging out with Kidd or that drug dealer dude.”
His smirk hardens. “If you think I’m still a sketchy douchebag, then what the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m cold,” I say even though right now, my blood is boiling. “You gave me no choice by cutting the power.”
He lets out a hard laugh. “You’ve had choices this entire time, Winnie, and you know it. You could have told Jude to fire me. You could have left. You have the money to stay in a hotel or even rent a different place. You could have gone to Cat’s tonight, but you didn’t. You’re here. With me. The big bad wolf.”
