“Babe,” I say like a fool but the word feels too natural in my mouth. She snaps her head in my direction. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” She snaps out of it. “I’m ready.” She moves quickly in a jog to catch up to where I stand. She quickly morphs into a ready stance, inhaling and exhaling a breath as she looks at the clean slate in front of us now that the old porch is gone.
She picks up a board, and I follow with another.
I don’t even know what her plan is here, or if she’s ever built a porch before, but I’m following her regardless.
“Can you pass me the drill?” she asks, holding her hand out without looking at me. I hand her the drill and her fingers curl around the handle, and for a second we’re both holding it. I pull my hand away. This is too much for one day. She volleys it around in both of her hands, assessing it. “Thank you.”
“Do you need me to show you how to use it?”
She stands, turning around to face me and pops her hand on her hips. “If you even think about trying to mansplain a power tool to me, I will staple your mouth shut with the nail gun.”
I laugh. “At least I know you know how to use it.”
She narrows her eyes before walking away. I let my eyes trail her body. Even with the slightly oversized overalls, I can still make out the roundness of her ass with every step she takes. I have to force my head not to let my thoughts travel to the way it felt in my hands that night.
But it’s too late.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to do this?” I ask as she walks back. She has that sour candy in her hand, popping two in her mouth before crouching down to get started.
“Nope. Got it.”
“Don’t strip the nail, babe.”
Her head snaps to face me, and the moment she sees the amusement on my face, her eyes narrow. But it only lasts a moment before a flicker of defeat flashes on her face. If I blinked, I would have missed it. She squares her shoulders and looks around to see where the camera is, and the confident woman Iknow is back immediately. She lines up the bit, presses the drill to the wood and squeezes the trigger. The sound is wrong immediately. The metal shrieks and the screw spins uselessly.
“Dammit,” Scottie mutters under her breath.
I move before I can think.
Then I stop.
I pause just behind her—close enough to feel the hesitation ripple through her body and enough that if she says no, I’ll hear it.
“Easy,” I say quietly. “You’re forcing it.”
“I’m not. I’ve used a drill a million times before today.”
“I know. Just…hold on.”
I lift my hand slowly, not touching her yet. I give her the choice of accepting my help. When she doesn’t pull away, it’s all the permission I need. My hand settles over hers and her breath catches the instant our skin connects.
“You have to let it work for you. You need to add pressure, but not too much.”
My voice drops without permission and my body remembers things I shouldn’t be thinking of at the moment.
She swallows. “Is that supposed to sound dirty, Tucker?”
The air between us hummed louder than the commotion and generators around the property. I should step back, but I couldn’t seem to get myself to move.
“Did you want it to sound dirty, Scottie?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she clears her throat, adjusting her grip beneath mine. I guide her hand again as the drill hums without a shriek and the screw sinks perfectly into the wood.
“See?”
She exhales, turning her head to look at me over her shoulder. She sucks in a sharp breath at the proximity. My eyes trail to her lips. I’m so close that if I lean in just enough, I can taste the memory of the last time my lips were on hers and experience it all over again.
