Lucky Baby (Crescent Cove 11)

“If my shirts fit you, I’d cry.”

I barked out a laugh.

“Now if you come near my actual prototype sketches, I’ll deball you before you can blink.”

r /> I cleared my throat. “Good to know.”

“Bring the sketchbook. We can use the kitchen island to figure some shit out.” She turned to head back to the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floors.

I was beginning to think she liked walking away from me.

Before I forgot, I made a note about the floors. They were in good shape and probably just needed a bit of a refinish to bring them back to their former glory. I slipped the pad under my arm then tucked the bottom of the T-shirt in my back pocket.

I followed her into the kitchen and set the sketchbook on the island. She was cleaning up the coffee thing at the sink. I came up beside her. “Think I could clean up a bit?”

“Bathroom is—hey, that way, Thor.” Her brown eyes were wide with shock.

I nudged her aside and pulled my tank off. “I just need a little water. You’re done, right?”

She turned her face away from my naked chest so fast her ponytail whipped my arm. Damn if I didn’t want to wrap all that hair around my fist and give it a little tug.

“What? You have three brothers, right?”

She stumbled into the island before scrambling around the other side.

I grinned over my shoulder. “Problem?”

“No, of course not.” She picked up her mug and drank deeply.

I used the inside of the shirt to scrub at my neck. I’d need a shower to get the worst of it off me, but I was used to being dirty. I looked around for the garbage. The shirt was beyond saving.

“Under the sink.”

“Right.” I quickly washed my hands and my face with the Dawn on the ledge above her sink. Thankfully, there was a roll of paper towels beside me. I turned around and found her staring hard at the ugly Formica.

I hid a smile behind the towel before I threw both away.

“So, what did you have in mind? Just the barn?”

She glanced up then back down.

I had to admit I was surprised she was so nervy. I shoved my arms through the sleeves of the shirt she’d given me and tugged it on. It was tight as fuck and the bottom of the shirt barely hit my buckle. “How big are your brothers?”

She looked up and her pupils dilated. “Obviously not Thor big.”

I laughed and fixed my crooked bun. Her gaze slid away again, but not before she checked out my buckle and the little strip of skin that showed. Interesting.

She pulled the sketchbook closer. “Right, well, I had a few ideas. But I know time is now a factor.”

I pulled the mug she’d poured for me closer. Something spicy hit my nose before the tang of truly good coffee landed on my tongue. “So, this is what it’s like to have Macy like you enough for your own brew?”

“I take it you don’t have one?”

I took another gulp. “Nope.”

“Maybe someday.”

“I helped build her damn Haunt and still didn’t get one.”