Her chest rises, emphasizing tits that are begging me to see if they can fit in my palm. Her face gets flushed, and arosy tint covers her neck. My curiosity to know just how far that tint goes down is incorrigible.
“How are you feeling?” she squeaks out, and I feel the side of my lips tip up in a smile.
I make her uncomfortable. I like knowing I do that. You can tell it’s not the type of uncomfortable that you run away from in fear. More the type that makes you flustered and you don’t want to embarrass yourself.
“Good. How’s work?”
“Good.” She nods and bites her bottom lip as her eyes move to the side and back again. “Doing some repairs?” She gestures at the two different handles in my hand.
“Sort of.” I wince as I look away from her and back to the astronomical choices in front of me. I get that everyone has a taste, but I wish this were simpler. There are too many that are similar to the one I broke, but none of them are the same. I have half a mind to just do “eeny, meeny, miny, moe” and call it a day.
I look back at her, and with a sheepish grin, I confess my sins. “I broke something that wasn’t mine, and I’m trying to fix it before anyone notices.”
“Oh.” She comes closer, her sweet peach scent hitting me. I inhale deeply, hoping she doesn’t notice. “Can I help?”
I should say no. I should not be okay with a girl my daughter thinks is taking the place of her mother getting too close. Especially regarding fixing something that belongs to my daughter.
But I can’t seem to care about all that bullshit right now. All I know is that Diana doesn’t make me feel bad forlosing my memory. She isn’t mad at me for something I can’t control. She tries to help me, not glare at me and demand I remember something and someone I don’t. She doesn’t hold it against me or judge me for it. She’s just trying to help.
And screw the fact that I find her attractive and can’t seem to stop thinking about her. From the moment I locked eyes with her, she’s all I can see.
I’ve seen other women since I woke, and not a single one sets my heart beating at double speed. Not a single one gets a second thought, or even a second glance compared to Diana. I don’t know what it is about her, but everything pulls me in, and she does nothing to encourage it. She just smiles.
A smile that had me tripping over my tongue the second I saw it.
“You know anything about dresser handles?”
She looks at the handles, then at me and smiles wide. But she shakes her head. “Not a thing.”
“Me either. I’m looking for something like this.” I show her the picture of the dresser with one of the handles still intact.
“Hmm.” She grabs my phone from me, and I stand rigid as her fingers brush mine, but she doesn’t even notice as her focus is on the picture. She zooms in and looks it over for a second before going back to the pull wall. I watch her with fascination as she chews on her bottom lip, narrows her eyes, and looks at each handle closely before glancing back at the picture to shake her head. She repeats it several times before grabbing one off the wall and handing both the phone and handle to me.
“This seems to be the best match.”
I slide my phone into my back pocket with one hand and grab the handle with the other. It’s not one I saw before, and honestly, it’s the best option.
“Works for me,” I say with a shrug as I grab a few extras to redo the entire piece. “Thanks. So, what brought you here? Drawer issues too?”
She laughs, and it’s fresh and light and just brings a warmth to my chest.
“More like we’re finally getting around to updating the cabinets in the kitchen and decided that knobs on the top ones are better than nothing at all.”
“We?” I latch onto this word like a lifeline.
Does she have someone in her life? A husband? A boyfriend? I look at her finger, something I’ve looked at a dozen times before, and confirm there’s still no wedding ring. Not even a tan line of one.
“My nana. I live with her in her place. It’s falling apart, but it’s home,” she says easily with a quiet laugh, ignorant of the slight panic attack I gave myself a minute ago at the thought of her being with anyone but me.
“Need help?”
She raises an eyebrow at me with a smirk. “You know about kitchen knobs now but not dresser handles?”
“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents, but also someone who’s willing to admit when things are over my head if it’s a bigger issue than what my skills can do.”
“Oh, a man who admits his faults. How rare.”
I laugh with my lips closed as I lean in closer, just enough to get her undivided attention. “There aren’t many, darling.”
