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Silas barked a laugh.
“You sound like you don’t believe him, Sy,” I said, clicking my tongue to my teeth. “Feeling a little intimidated there?”
“No,” he scoffed. “I just think Doug here needs to keep his gout flare up in mind.”
Doug laughed and punched Sy’s shoulder playfully. “Little shit. I’m widowed and old. Not dead.” He gave me an endearing little bow and then waved a finger in Sy’s direction. “Take care of this one.”
Silas’s face turned bright red as Doug disappeared around the aisle and made his way back to the register. I raised an eyebrow, now fully in a playful mood myself. “Oh. So is this a regular spot for you to bring all your clients?”
“No! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he’s senile,” he stammered, but the adorable blush didn’t leave his face. “I just…I really just wanted to bring you out of the house a bit. Show you the store.”
“Sy, relax.” I placed a hand on his shoulder and felt the muscles beneath stiffen. “I’m just teasing. I can spot a ball-buster from a mile away.”
His shoulder sagged under my touch, relief flooding his face.
“Doug’s just…well, Doug,” he said.
“I figured. Besides.” I released his shoulder, shoved both hands into my pocket and tried not to focus on the way his blue eyes had softened. “We really are here for a work trip, no?”
“Yep,” he answered, sounding like his normal self again. He dipped his head down the aisle we were standing in front of. “We can start down here.”
Honestly, being in this store with anyone else might’ve been boring. But somehow, having Sy be the one to explain things like the difference between drywall and wood screws…I actually found myself enjoying the lessons.
It wasn’t so much that I planned on ever utilizing the knowledge myself, even though some things could come in handy one day. What was more intriguing was the passion that simmered beneath every explanation. Silas’s eyes lit up in a way that was absolutely beautiful as he moved from topic to topic and aisle to aisle. And when he spoke, his gorgeous silky voice didn’t have a single stutter. He sounded calm and authoritative, quick to answer any questions I had and teach me things in a way that didn’t make me feel dumb. He actually enjoyed what he did and it came through clear as day.
And then there were his hands. My God.
I stopped focusing on the tools he was manhandling a while ago and could only pay attention to the elegant lines of his long, strong fingers, and their rough pads and soft touches, and the veins on the back of his hands.
When it became clear that I was distracted, he gently tapped the end of a soft foam tube to my forehead. “You still there, Lane? If you’re bored we can just ring things up and leave. I’m sorry, I tend to get a bit carried away sometimes.”
I instantly felt guilty, shaking my head. “No. No, I was listening, I promise. And this isn’t boring me at all. It’s actually nice to hear you talk about this stuff. I love seeing people passionate about their work.”
Sy suddenly got quiet, turning over the driver tool he was holding from one hand to the other. I recognized that look—he was deep in thought. “That’s not the only thing I’m passionate about, you know.”
His statement wasn’t particularly provocative or crazy. But the words still charged the air with electricity that sparked straight off my skin. My throat went dry as I watched his hands on the driver. That single sentence conveyed so much more meaning than just what was on the surface.
I thought of the moment we shared in my bedroom and the way I’d wanted his eyes on me even if his gentleman code wouldn’t allow him to watch me change. I thought of the times he helped me in the kitchen or massaged my feet and the way his broad chest felt pressed up against my back. I found myself craving that feeling again now. I was greedy for it.
“What else are you passionate about?” I ventured, pretending to examine another shelf's contents. I had no idea what I was even looking at.
He looked like he wanted to say something. Sy cleared his throat. “Many things. Here, I can show you how to use this.”
He motioned for me to hold my hands out and gently placed the driver tool in my upturned palms. As though trying to defuse the atmosphere between us, he started showing me how the tool would do the work for me, if I ever found myself in a position to use it.
“A perfectly balanced tool should feel like a natural extension of your arm,” he said, helping me place my hands and fingers correctly. “It’s important for things to fit together perfectly.”
This man.
I mentally shook off the brain fog that being too close to Silas tended to bring out. Smiling, I bumped my shoulder into his arm. “Careful. You might end up training me well enough to take your spot at Cornerstone.”
He chuckled. “Oh, that would be my life’s achievement.”
I put the driver tool down and slowly inched my hand towards his tool belt, trying to take advantage of his focus on the fastening accessories. When I thought I’d spotted the perfect window, I grabbed his favorite tape measure and darted down the aisle.
“Hey!” he said indignantly, but he was laughing as he chased after me. The store was empty this time of the day, and Doug was moving around near the front, oblivious for now to the childish games taking place at the back of his store. With the maze-like layout, it made for a fun game of tag.
As we turned down the plumbing aisle, Silas had to duck his 6'4” frame under the hanging PVC pipes. I used the narrow spacing to my advantage, dodging and just barely out pacing him as he tried to keep up. We were both stifling laughter, keeping an eye out for Doug. When he finally caught up to me, my eyes immediately looked around for a defense weapon.
