Absolution (The Protectors 1)

Which brought me back to the present because what I wanted to do with it meant I’d had no choice but to endure the company of a man I couldn’t figure out. In the week since Mace had accepted the job, he’d shown up every day at the exact same time, given me a polite greeting, explained what his plans for the day were and then had gotten to work. No venom in his voice, no lust in his eyes. Meaning I couldn’t tell if he hated me, wanted me, both or neither. In fact, the only thing I’d managed to figure out was the guy had a thing for coffee. Since I didn’t have a coffee pot in the gallery, he brought his own thermos with him and it seemed like he was endlessly filling his travel mug with it.

Buying Mace a cup of coffee from the café down the street where I got my daily latte had dumb written all over it, but the truth was, I wanted to extend an olive branch. Not that I necessarily needed to mend any kind of rift – I just really wanted to interact with him. Why? I had no fucking clue. I also wasn’t expecting it to have any impact because my other efforts so far had failed. I’d offered to help work in the studio space on more than one occasion but the second I nearly tripped over a pile of old paint cans against one of the walls, Mace kindly suggested to leave the work to him since that was what I was paying him for. I’d extended an invitation to lunch, my treat, the very next day, but that had been politely rebuffed as well.

The progress with the renovation was slow but only because Mace had found a whole host of problems with things that he said weren’t up to code. He’d patiently explained his findings to me but I’d been too distracted by his rumbly, strangely soothing voice to actually hear what he was saying and when he called me on it, I sputtered out an excuse about needing to call someone and told him to do whatever he needed to do to get everything up to code.

It was an odd thing to walk into my own space and feel like a stranger but that was exactly what happened every time I walked into the studio. Today was no exception and when I saw Mace, his back to me, on his knees near one of the electrical outlets, I actually leaned against the doorframe just to watch him work. I had no clue what he was doing but watching his large but nimble fingers work with the array of colorful wires had me wondering what those hands would feel like against my skin. My attraction to Mace wasn’t a surprise since he was a truly stunning man and any man, gay or straight, would be hard pressed to say otherwise. My lust was what I was having trouble dealing with. Just being in the same room with the man was as detrimental to my body as when I’d seen him in all his glory without his shirt. It was a reaction I wouldn’t have expected considering my past.

“You need something?”

I started at Mace’s voice and barely managed to hang on to both cups in my hands. I glanced up and saw that he wasn’t even looking at me and I cursed myself for the sliver of disappointment that went through me. While I was very aware of Mace and my reaction to him, he clearly didn’t have the same issue with my presence. I was beginning to suspect more and more that I was more like a gnat to him – always hovering around, a bit annoying but ultimately not worth the trouble of trying to get rid of.

“I brought you some coffee,” I murmured as I straightened and walked across the room. His eyes finally lifted to study me and then he was climbing to his feet and by the time I reached him, he was towering over me. “I wasn’t sure how long yours stayed hot in your thermos for,” I stammered.

I stood there awkwardly as Mace watched me, his ever present unreadable expression filling his eyes.

“Thanks,” he finally said as he took the cup from me. Electricity flooded my nerve endings when his fingers brushed mine but I covered the tremor in my hand by shoving it into my pocket and pulling out the cream and sugar packets I’d grabbed from the coffee shop. “I wasn’t sure how you took it,” I said as I opened my palm.

“Just black with a pinch of…” he began to say but stopped when I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a small container.

“Cinnamon?” I finished for him.