while another minute ticked on. She’d replaced her shoe, and was now contemplating her options with the chocolate chips. She could leave the bag on the desk and let him take care of them himself. Go put them back in his freezer, which she did not want to do. Or rip open the bag and devour the entire contents on the ride home.
Reese’s words rang in her mind. Just ask him to lunch. Man’s gotta eat.
If Allie asked him about the chocolate chips, she could possibly work the lunch thing into the conversation. But did she really have it in her to do that? The truth was, she’d spent the last few hours mentally making out with Braden. And now she was filled with a conflicting blend of embarrassment and desire. Part of her wanted to grab hold of him and reenact the kiss right there in the woodshop, an environment that accented every masculine trait he owned. The other part of her was itching to run out the door while hollering goodbye over the dividing wall.
She exhaled slowly, tuning into the live, tingling force that settled over her skin. She let it encourage her. She could do this; she could.
With her shoulders raised high, Allie walked toward the workshop, one determined step after the next. Great streams of sunlight burst through the glass overhead, casting a heavenly glow on the beautiful creature in the center of the room. She paused to look at him, watching as he labored at the workbench, sanding a massive board that extended beyond the table at both ends. The cupboard door he’d been working on earlier rested against the hutch just a few feet away. She took a moment to admire that too, impressed that he could create such beauty.
When she sensed she’d been staring for too long, Allie forced herself to speak. “It’s um, twelve o’clock,” she said, slowly approaching him. “What should I do with these?” She held up the bag.
“Just set ‘em on that table there,” he said without looking up.
After placing the bag of chocolate chips where he’d suggested, Allie snatched up a small piece of sandpaper, the label 80 grit printed on back. She curled the corner around one finger while watching him. The muscles in his broad arms bulged as he worked over the wood. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple, drawing her eye to his thick, dark hair. She leaned in for a closer look, noticing that a fine spray of sawdust peppered his hair, like tiny flakes of snow.
Just as a smile formed on her lips in response, Braden turned to face her. The grin fell from Allie’s lips as he held her gaze, causing her to recall their earlier exchange in his kitchen, when he said that he’d missed her.
“It’s twelve already?” His voice was low, husky, and as rugged as the 80 grit in her hand. She nodded while her eyes traveled over his hair once more, lingering on the tiny specks.
“What?” Braden asked. He looked innocent then. Not angry or brooding. The simple curiosity in his face making him appear almost boyish.
The smile came back to her lips, and Allie dared herself to step closer. The heat from his solid figure warmed her as she neared, inhaling the scent she’d come to expect on Braden – fresh cut wood mingled with spicy hints of aftershave. “You’ve got stuff in your hair.”
He didn’t reply. Only remained still, his flawlessly sculpted face motionless as well.
There she went, wanting to run again. To bolt out of there before he could affect her any further. But she stepped closer instead. While exhaling a shaky breath, Allie propped herself onto her tiptoes, rested one hand on Braden’s solid shoulder for balance, and brought the other to his hair. She slipped her fingers through the thick, loose waves, gliding along the heated surface of his scalp before tossing the strands from side to side. Tiny grains of sawdust trickled down, fluttering gently over the back of her hand. Powdery soft and light.
“There,” she whispered.
Braden’s eyes remained narrow. His piercing gaze seeming to question
Reese’s words rang in her mind. Just ask him to lunch. Man’s gotta eat.
If Allie asked him about the chocolate chips, she could possibly work the lunch thing into the conversation. But did she really have it in her to do that? The truth was, she’d spent the last few hours mentally making out with Braden. And now she was filled with a conflicting blend of embarrassment and desire. Part of her wanted to grab hold of him and reenact the kiss right there in the woodshop, an environment that accented every masculine trait he owned. The other part of her was itching to run out the door while hollering goodbye over the dividing wall.
She exhaled slowly, tuning into the live, tingling force that settled over her skin. She let it encourage her. She could do this; she could.
With her shoulders raised high, Allie walked toward the workshop, one determined step after the next. Great streams of sunlight burst through the glass overhead, casting a heavenly glow on the beautiful creature in the center of the room. She paused to look at him, watching as he labored at the workbench, sanding a massive board that extended beyond the table at both ends. The cupboard door he’d been working on earlier rested against the hutch just a few feet away. She took a moment to admire that too, impressed that he could create such beauty.
When she sensed she’d been staring for too long, Allie forced herself to speak. “It’s um, twelve o’clock,” she said, slowly approaching him. “What should I do with these?” She held up the bag.
“Just set ‘em on that table there,” he said without looking up.
After placing the bag of chocolate chips where he’d suggested, Allie snatched up a small piece of sandpaper, the label 80 grit printed on back. She curled the corner around one finger while watching him. The muscles in his broad arms bulged as he worked over the wood. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple, drawing her eye to his thick, dark hair. She leaned in for a closer look, noticing that a fine spray of sawdust peppered his hair, like tiny flakes of snow.
Just as a smile formed on her lips in response, Braden turned to face her. The grin fell from Allie’s lips as he held her gaze, causing her to recall their earlier exchange in his kitchen, when he said that he’d missed her.
“It’s twelve already?” His voice was low, husky, and as rugged as the 80 grit in her hand. She nodded while her eyes traveled over his hair once more, lingering on the tiny specks.
“What?” Braden asked. He looked innocent then. Not angry or brooding. The simple curiosity in his face making him appear almost boyish.
The smile came back to her lips, and Allie dared herself to step closer. The heat from his solid figure warmed her as she neared, inhaling the scent she’d come to expect on Braden – fresh cut wood mingled with spicy hints of aftershave. “You’ve got stuff in your hair.”
He didn’t reply. Only remained still, his flawlessly sculpted face motionless as well.
There she went, wanting to run again. To bolt out of there before he could affect her any further. But she stepped closer instead. While exhaling a shaky breath, Allie propped herself onto her tiptoes, rested one hand on Braden’s solid shoulder for balance, and brought the other to his hair. She slipped her fingers through the thick, loose waves, gliding along the heated surface of his scalp before tossing the strands from side to side. Tiny grains of sawdust trickled down, fluttering gently over the back of her hand. Powdery soft and light.
“There,” she whispered.
Braden’s eyes remained narrow. His piercing gaze seeming to question
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