“Be as loud as you need, please.”
I start working out the screws, drill whirring, and Nicholas cranks up the music. All of a sudden, some pop song is blasting. It might be Harry Styles.
“Do you mind?” he yells above the noise, and I shake my head even though I hate the damn song immediately.
Nicholas starts to sway his hips, giving me a few chances to appreciate that ass discreetly. He works his way around the big table in the middle of his work space, gliding with the music, dancing while he works.
The drill jumps off the screw, and I slam my hand into the wall, pain exploding.
Fuck!
“You okay?” Nicholas yells, and I wave a hand at him.
“Yeah. Fine.”
Okay. No more looking at his ass.
I pull down the last supports, and my breath comes out heavy and ragged.
I’m not sure what I’m trying to prove with this repair. But there’s that way I’m starting to care what Nicholas thinks about me. And fixing something is how I know to help, even when I don’t know what the hell else to say or do.
As Nicholas dances around the shop, working happily, I get the sense that I could renovate the whole damn building, and I still wouldn’t be satisfied.
