The audacity of it makes me laugh, breathless and surprised. “What if I have plans?”
“Cancel them.” He grins. “Nine o’clock, Claire. Say yes.”
Everything in me that’s responsible and careful and achievement-oriented is screaming that this is moving too fast. But there’s another part of me, the part that woke up in St. Sebastian, that wants to say yes to everything this man is offering.
“Okay,” I say. “Nine o’clock. Your place.”
His smile could rival the sun. He kisses me once more, quick and possessive, before taking my hand and leading me back onto the sidewalk like he didn’t just rearrange my entire evening.
Chapter 9
Hunter
Claire exits her car wearing denim shorts that are so short they have no business being sold in stores, a tight white t-shirt and suspenders. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she’s got steel toe boots on like I asked.
Where are the damn jeans?
“Hey, there, handsome.” She hefts her backpack over one arm and walks toward me, stopping inches from my chest. “We match.”
“Not even close.”
“We’re both wearing white t-shirts, denim, and boots.”
“My denim is covering my ass. Yours?” I look over her shoulder as I pull her in tight. “Not so much.” I smack that peachy goodness in emphasis. “I told you to wear jeans to protect yourself.”
“Oh, I know. They’re in the backpack.” She winks at me.
Who is this woman and what did she do with Claire?
I force myself to move to the porch railing, grip the wood hard enough my knuckles go white. If I stay this close, I’m going to do something that’ll make us late for our own date.
“You’re playing with fire, Doc.” I step back, giving her space before I do something stupid like kiss her senseless in my driveway. “Get those jeans on before we head out.”
“What if I like the fire?” She’s all confidence and heat, nothing like the buttoned-up surgeon who tried not to want me in Bay Seven.
I grab her backpack, sling it over my shoulder. “Come on, Sparky. You can change inside.”
She follows me up the porch steps, her boots loud on the wood as her laughter surrounds us. Inside, I point toward the bathroom. “Five minutes, Claire. Then we’re hiking to the clearing.”
“Bossy.”
“You like it.”
She does. I can see it in the way her pupils dilate, the way her breath catches. But she disappears into the bathroom anyway, and I’m left standing in my kitchen wondering how the hell I’m supposed to teach her axe safety when all I can think about is those shorts.
The bathroom door opens, and she emerges in proper jeans, the denim hugging her curves in ways that don’t help my situation. Her t-shirt’s still tight, still white, still making me think about peeling it off her later, and the suspenders make me want to grab one and pull her close.
“Better?” She does a slow turn.
“Safer.” I hand her a water bottle from the fridge. “Ready?”
“For what, exactly?”
“Lumberjacking 101.” I head for the back door, and she follows. “Gonna teach you to split wood, throw a hatchet, maybe some basic forestry if you don’t lose a finger.”
“You’re the one who danced with a chainsaw.”
“That was an accident, which can happen to any of us in the industry. I’m excellent at safety protocols and take them seriously.”
