I scrunched my nose and glanced over at the two men, both sporting sly grins right in my direction.
“They’re harmless,” I crooned, turning back to Luke. I sometimes liked egging him on. That’s a lie. I always liked it.
“I don’t want them staring at you,” he said as a matter-of-fact, crossing his forearms over his chest.
“Why?” I inclined my head to the side, holding back a small smile.
“Because, you know why.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and brought myself back to reality. I shook my head and started to walk away when Luke yelled at me, “Go grab some more nails!”
I spun around fast, hearing the leaves crinkle beneath my feet.
“Wha—”
My hands made their way to my hips as I watched Luke climb my old, blue ladder, hammer in hand.
“What are you doing?” I yelled from beside my porch.
“Go get some nails, Cammie.”
“There are nails up there.” I scrunched my eyebrows, nodding my head toward the top of the ladder.
Luke looked down and laughed. “There are three nails. Are you really expecting this board to stand against eighty mile-an-hour wind with three nails?” He rolled his eyes and I stood there like a bewildered idiot. “Plus, I need some for my house.”
“Go get your own!”
“I don’t wanna go to the hardware store. Chop chop, we’ve got a storm comin’, darlin’.” There it was. That cute side of him emerging, making dormant butterflies swarm in my stomach.
I turned around quick and headed inside to clear my head, and… to grab some more nails.
* * *
When I walked inside my house, after throwing the nails at Luke (relax, they were still in a box. I wouldn’t dare harm valuable goods), I stood at my kitchen window, the only window left to board, and my God, the sight of Luke and his sandy blond hair all jumbled from the wind was breathtaking. He had taken off his red and black, flannel shirt and was left standing on the ladder in his grey undershirt, muscles moving so swiftly from each pound of the hammer.
I should be ladylike and grab him something to drink. I mean, he was boarding my house up for me even after I’d thrown nails at him.
I dropped my water bottle straight into the sink when I saw him start to peel off his grey shirt. I gulped. Holy shit, now he was stripping. I averted my eyes for a moment, reaching into my sink to grab the plastic bottle, and then peeked up again. He wasn’t looking at me. He was too busy grabbing nails and placing them between his beautiful lips.
I bet when he lived down in South Carolina, his mom probably made him that southern sweet tea. I could almost picture it. Luke working outside, sporting a farmer’s tan, gulping down that sweet, sweet, southern tea. Could you imagine Luke as one of those farmer boys who was always out and about in the South Carolina sun? Working on the farm, wearing worn Levi’s and nothing more but a cowboy hat. I bet all the young, pretty girls brought him sweet tea, just to watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down with each drink.
It was too bad that I didn’t have any sweet tea. Besides, what would he think if I stepped outside and brought him some? He’d probably assume it was an invitation to get into my pants, me trying to impress him with my delicious sweet tea skills. He would definitely take it as an invitation.
But let’s face it. It would totally be a ploy to get him into my pants, and I would totally let him.
IF… this were another time in another life. IF he were a farmer maybe, but not a military man. Nope. If I had Luke, I’d want all of him forever. Not just for a small amount of time before he got called away to fight for his country. I wouldn’t want to give him up… and that’s exactly what I would have to do.
Sixteen
When I walked back outside, I could tell the wind had picked up its speed. The weatherman, Bill from News 6, said Bernadette wouldn’t hit New Bern until tomorrow evening. I had one more shift at work, tonight, and then when I made it back home in the morning, I would stock up on the rest of the things I needed to ride this baby out.
My hair swished in front of my face and the second I pushed it aside to toss Luke the water bottle I’d brought for him, I paused mid-step. What was he doing? Luke held my phone in its purple case to his ear and was nodding his head, obviously talking to whoever was on the other line.
When his green gaze spotted mine, he squinted, just a bit, but it was a puzzling squint. Like he was confused. God, who could it be? What if it’s Grant? Oh my god! He probably called the cops and is pressing charges or something for his now lack of hair. I can’t go to jail! I won’t survive. I’m way too high-maintenance for all of that.
I walked a few more feet toward Luke, eyeing him suspiciously and trying to gather any clue about who was on the other end.
“Yes, sir. I have one more left to board.” My eyes went wide. Jesus Christ, is talking to my dad?! Why would he answer my dad’s call? It wasn’t like he wasn’t programed into my phone! Luke knew it was my dad!