“You could stop by again and bring me coffee whenever you want to get away from the office,” she offers with a twinkle in her eye.
“Oh, could I? And what do I get out of this generous gift?” I smirk, still holding her hand.
“Hmm, that’s a tough one,” she muses. “There are quite a lot of options. I could … teach you how to use some power tools.”
Shocked laughter escapes me. Her innuendo does not go unnoticed.
“Your power tools? What makes you think I need any help with that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there’s some new way I do things that would really work for you.” She bursts out laughing like she’s shocked she even said that.
I still don’t stand a chance with this woman. Somehow, we can go from serious conversation to sexual innuendos at the drop of a hat, and I fucking love it.
“I like your versions of friends,” I chuckle.
Her smile drops a little, and I internally curse myself for saying it.
“We already established I don’t know how to do this, and although I firmly believe we need to work on our friendship before anything happens—if anything else happens—you’re really good in bed and sometimes my brain wanders, and we land on shitty sexual overtones.” She cringes, but I love her blunt honesty.
“Friendship is whatever we say it is, Rina. And lucky for you, I happen to love sexual innuendos.” I wink.
She squeezes the hand that’s still holding hers before letting go and taking a final swig from her coffee cup.
“Well, I think this is a sign that I need to get back to work before that moves from suggestive jokes to fucking me over my workbench.” She stands up, but I stay seated, shocked and picturing the exact image she just put in my head. My dick hardens in my jeans, and I adjust without a second thought. When I look up, her eyes are where my hand was, and I tip my head back and groan.
“I’m going. You can’t say shit like that and then not expect me to react, Marina.” I groan, scrubbing my hand over my face.
“Yep, you know how to get to your truck.” She turns on her heel then calls over her shoulder, “Thanks for the coffee and the … conversation.”
I watch her walk through the side door, a mumbled, “Keep your head off his penis, Rina. Jesus,” reaching my ear before I chuckle.
Dear God, friendship with my wife just might be the death of me.
Chapter 20
Rina
This is a terrible idea.
I haven’t seen Arlo since last week when he brought me coffee, but my head sure as hell has been stuck on him.
The dichotomy of our conversation that day haunts all my free time. The serious stuff needed to be said, but the sexual? I have no clue why I couldn’t keep my thoughts to myself, but I haven’t been able to think of much else since. What’s stuck the most was his reaction to it.
So, here I am, loading up a dining room set into my truck carefully while I wait for him to show up.
I called him yesterday and asked if he wanted to help me with a delivery. Because Imissedhim. And being stuck in the truck with him for an hour and a half round trip doesn’t sound like a terrible decision in the making at all.
I just need to keep my libido in check. We’re working on our friendship, and we certainly don’t need me muddling everything with sex again.
I’m wrapping the chairs with some moving blankets when I hear his truck pull up. I glance his way as he jumps out, and my head tips back toward the heavens.
Of fucking course he’s wearing a baseball hat and a threadbare Marines T-shirt,andjeans that wrap around his muscled thighs too perfectly.
Have mercy on a woman, damn. How the fuck am I supposed to focus with him looking like a literal piece of meat I want to nibble on?
“Here, let me help.” I hear him jog up next to me, and I take a deep breath to calm myself down. It’s going to be a long-ass day if I can’t keep my shit locked down.
I straighten and turn to tell him all that’s left is to load it into the truck, but I hit his hard chest instead.
