“Is that okay?”
“Whatever,” I say, grabbing my phone. I have no clue what the fuck I just agreed to, but Kit looks damn pleased by it.
I leave my wet hair down but grab a hair tie and my phone before heading out.
I can feel him trailing behind me all the way to the shed. It’s another cloudy day, but not the fluffy white ones. Gray clouds are hanging low, only breaking in small streaks of faded blue. I can already smell the coming rain and feel it in the thick air.
Two hours later, the gutters are cleared. Kit was the designated ladder holder—his words—once I again told him there was no chance of him climbing up. But I had apparently agreed to hang out with him.
That’s why we’re here now, Kit crouched on the warped section of fence I pulled from the old garden. He’s holding the power drill, pretending he knows what the hell he’s doing with it.
He jumps when he pulls the trigger and huffs. “This is not my strong suit,” he grumbles, squinting at the nail he was meant to aim for. “In case that wasn’t abundantly clear. I swear I wasn’t lying about doing this kind of stuff when I was…gone, though. I did. I just never said I was good at it.”
I don’t look up from where I’m measuring a clean board a few feet away. “It was abundantly clear when you held the drill upside down.”
“That never happened.”
“That was this morning.”
Kit huffs and sets down the drill, falling back on his butt. “This does not feel like the domestic, soft, woodland labor I thought it would be. This feels a little too…manly.”
I finally look up to give him a deadpan look. “You specifically asked to help. You threatened to call my mom if I didn’t let you try using the drill.”
Kit shoots me a glare, but his hazel eyes are dancing with humor. He huffs dramatically again while getting on his hands and knees and snatching the drill back up. His back swoops in at the base, t-shirt gapping under him and exposing a glimpse of his taunt stomach. He’s got the tip of his tongue poking out, lining it up. “Alright, Captain Carpentry, how’s this?”
I clear my throat and look away from the slow sway of his hips as he scoots back a little to get the right angle. “The nail would make it to whereit needs to go a hell of a lot easier if you used the right tool.” He frowns at the tip of the drill then down at the nail. His eyes scan the tools he scattered around him, and they light up when he sees the hammer. He crawls over to snatch it up, then back to where he was.
“I’m gonna nail this so good.”
“You’re gonna hammer your thumb.”
“Oh, so much confidence, Boe. I’m positively thriving under your guidance.” He lines it up…
And then he hisses and sits back on his heels, the hammer clattering on the wood beneath him. He looks down at his thumb and then sucks it into his mouth and looks at me like it’s my fault.
I drop what I’m doing and walk over to him, crouching.
“Let me see.”
Kit
“Let me see,” Bowen says, crouched down in front of me. He holds out his hand expectantly, but I’m sort of lost in the fluttery feeling in my stomach because he’s watching me suck my thumb.
Any pain from a second ago is overshadowed by the sight of him. Knowing he’ll come to my rescue is a very, very dangerous thing for me to know. I feel like I just cracked the code. Unlocked a feature that I lost when I quit the game two years ago and had to start over again.
I pull my thumb out with a soft pop and place my hand in his open palm. His eyes drag from my mouth.
What even is breathing?
His own thumb grazes over mine, shiny from being in my mouth. God, I’m like a pubescent teen. Why is him touching the thumb that was in my mouth absolutelydoingit for me right now?
I’m a touch-starved animal. Ifeellike one with how my body lights up under the gentle touch. Smooth leather against silk. His skin is rougher than mine—proof of his ability to use a hammer, I’m sure.
He bends my thumb, pushing up the center and on the sides. When I only wince and not yelp or cry out in agony, he drops my hand. “You’re fine…big baby.” My skin is burning where he touched me.
And then, as if it's just a reflex, Bowen lifts the same hand and ruffles it through my hair. Muscle memory.
We both freeze.
