he’s coming over. Help!
Sitting on my couch, my knees bounced as I waited for my sister’s sage advice.
After what felt like eons, my cell pinged. I brushed my finger across the screen and read: Don’t panic. You’ll be fine. Just change out of those awful sweats.
My eyes shot to my outfit and the paint splattered on my tee-shirt and sweatpants. Yikes!
Thanks. I typed back, then popped up to make a dash to my closet when I heard my cell ping again.
PS Don’t forget the lip-gloss. Judging from that photo, you’ll need it.
Quickly, I typed back: He’s just bringing tile over to show me. It’s for the remodel.
Although I reassured myself this visit was only for the good of my house, I searched through my makeup drawer for my lip-gloss then slid it over my lips.
Just in case.
Chapter Six
The wall clock read nine o’clock when my doorbell rang for the second time. Even though it wasn’t a date, just a chance to acquire tile at a discounted price, I’d tried on and discarded multiple outfits until a mountain of clothes sat where my bed should be. I shut my bedroom door to cover the chaos, then hurried to the front door wearing a sleeveless top and black capris.
I pulled open my front door, then felt an unexpected jolt through my chest when Paul’s mesmerizing eyes stared back at me. “H-Hi.”
“Hi.” His mouth curved up and he handed me what looked like a very expensive bottle of wine. “For your nightly tradition of wine by your dock.”
I bit my bottom lip, touched that he’d remembered my favorite routine. “Except I’ve been on hiatus due to dating week.”
He winked at me. “Maybe it’s time you got back on track.”
“My life’s perfectly on track.” Not. Everything about Paul had thrown my world completely off track. But his coming over was purely platonic and he’d brought over a bottle of wine so how rude would it be not to offer him some? “Thank you for the wine. Should I get us some glasses?”
“Sounds good.” He followed me to the kitchen, dropped a small black bag on the counter, then surveyed the kitchen and the living room since it was an open floor plan. “I like your place.”
“Thanks.” I loved my open floor plan and vaulted ceilings, but my eyes zeroed in on all the work that needed to be done—new light fixtures, hardwood floors that needed refinishing, and especially the exposed walls that needed texturing and paint. “It’ll be even better after this weekend.”
He smirked. “Right. Free labor.”
“Exactly.” I opened one of the cupboards, pulled out two wine glasses, then fished in a drawer for the wine opener. “Must be hard living in a hotel. Are you looking for your own place?”
His face registered a strange look. “I’m comfortable for now.”
“But it can’t be homey living in a hotel, even one as nice as the Geoffries.” I twisted the screw into the brown cork. “And it must be expensive. I hope they’re giving you an employee discount.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but must’ve changed his mind because he closed it, waited several seconds, then shrugged. “It’s affordable.”
His tone suggested he was holding something back, but I didn’t want to pry. Plus, I was having trouble getting the cork to come out so that took all my concentration. I tugged and tugged to no avail.
“Let me.” Paul eased around the counter and came up behind me. But instead of taking the bottle, he reached around me and placed his hands over mine.
“I forgot you’re a professional,” I said, barely able to get the words out since I was trying not to hyperventilate from the warmth of his chin against the side of my cheek, and the delicious scent of his spicy aftershave that I wanted to bottle up and keep. “How long have you been bartending?”
“Not long.” He wiggled the cork out of the bottle with a gentle pop . “What line of work are you in?”
I made the mistake of glancing up behind me
Sitting on my couch, my knees bounced as I waited for my sister’s sage advice.
After what felt like eons, my cell pinged. I brushed my finger across the screen and read: Don’t panic. You’ll be fine. Just change out of those awful sweats.
My eyes shot to my outfit and the paint splattered on my tee-shirt and sweatpants. Yikes!
Thanks. I typed back, then popped up to make a dash to my closet when I heard my cell ping again.
PS Don’t forget the lip-gloss. Judging from that photo, you’ll need it.
Quickly, I typed back: He’s just bringing tile over to show me. It’s for the remodel.
Although I reassured myself this visit was only for the good of my house, I searched through my makeup drawer for my lip-gloss then slid it over my lips.
Just in case.
Chapter Six
The wall clock read nine o’clock when my doorbell rang for the second time. Even though it wasn’t a date, just a chance to acquire tile at a discounted price, I’d tried on and discarded multiple outfits until a mountain of clothes sat where my bed should be. I shut my bedroom door to cover the chaos, then hurried to the front door wearing a sleeveless top and black capris.
I pulled open my front door, then felt an unexpected jolt through my chest when Paul’s mesmerizing eyes stared back at me. “H-Hi.”
“Hi.” His mouth curved up and he handed me what looked like a very expensive bottle of wine. “For your nightly tradition of wine by your dock.”
I bit my bottom lip, touched that he’d remembered my favorite routine. “Except I’ve been on hiatus due to dating week.”
He winked at me. “Maybe it’s time you got back on track.”
“My life’s perfectly on track.” Not. Everything about Paul had thrown my world completely off track. But his coming over was purely platonic and he’d brought over a bottle of wine so how rude would it be not to offer him some? “Thank you for the wine. Should I get us some glasses?”
“Sounds good.” He followed me to the kitchen, dropped a small black bag on the counter, then surveyed the kitchen and the living room since it was an open floor plan. “I like your place.”
“Thanks.” I loved my open floor plan and vaulted ceilings, but my eyes zeroed in on all the work that needed to be done—new light fixtures, hardwood floors that needed refinishing, and especially the exposed walls that needed texturing and paint. “It’ll be even better after this weekend.”
He smirked. “Right. Free labor.”
“Exactly.” I opened one of the cupboards, pulled out two wine glasses, then fished in a drawer for the wine opener. “Must be hard living in a hotel. Are you looking for your own place?”
His face registered a strange look. “I’m comfortable for now.”
“But it can’t be homey living in a hotel, even one as nice as the Geoffries.” I twisted the screw into the brown cork. “And it must be expensive. I hope they’re giving you an employee discount.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but must’ve changed his mind because he closed it, waited several seconds, then shrugged. “It’s affordable.”
His tone suggested he was holding something back, but I didn’t want to pry. Plus, I was having trouble getting the cork to come out so that took all my concentration. I tugged and tugged to no avail.
“Let me.” Paul eased around the counter and came up behind me. But instead of taking the bottle, he reached around me and placed his hands over mine.
“I forgot you’re a professional,” I said, barely able to get the words out since I was trying not to hyperventilate from the warmth of his chin against the side of my cheek, and the delicious scent of his spicy aftershave that I wanted to bottle up and keep. “How long have you been bartending?”
“Not long.” He wiggled the cork out of the bottle with a gentle pop . “What line of work are you in?”
I made the mistake of glancing up behind me
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