“You’re on.” He smiled tenderly, coming around the table to wrap me in a tight hug from behind. That was all. No words. Only his strong arms squeezing me close, his head resting on my neck as we exhaled in unison like we were finishing some sort of yoga routine. Maybe I liked talking with him so much because he seemed to understand when I ran out of words.
He let me stay quiet while we did dishes but was back to his bouncy self when we collected work gloves and tools. I demonstrated prying off the old, rotting boards, and he gleefully took to ripping the porch apart.
“This is fun.” He cackled as he sent a long board flying to the growing trash heap.
“Careful.” I dodged a swing of his crowbar.
“Oops.” Even his apologetic grin was adorable. “This is great for focusing my squirrel brain. But I still get overexcited.”
“Your excitement is cute.” I leaned over to steal a fast kiss. Well, I intended fast. His lips were more addictive than a bag of my favorite chips. Laughing, I pulled back. “Honestly, I could have used a half-dozen sailors with your enthusiasm for work on my team.”
“Thanks.” He gave me another of those small smiles that went straight to my gut, and I had to busy myself prying loose another board to ignore the near perma-flutter he seemed to induce in me. I wasn’t used to feeling this sentimental, this raw, and the work was a good reset from that, smashing things and hefting piles of debris until my biceps and back burned.
“Damn.” Danny whistled and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I thought yoga had me in good shape. But this is hard work.”
“You’re doing great,” I praised so I could watch him preen again. Even the smallest compliment seemed to puff him up, and damn if I didn’t want to grab that camera of his, take a picture of him at this moment, sweaty and proud of himself, keep him like this forever. “After we’re done, you can take a soak in the outdoor tub.”
“I love that idea.” He applied himself to hauling away some more boards with renewed energy. “Gonna scrub my back?”
“Absolutely.” No way was I turning that down. No way was I turning any of this down. He induced a terrifying level of feelings in me with each smile and each conversation, yet I couldn’t back away, seemed powerless to do anything but run headlong into danger.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Danny
“I have blisters.” My tone was more brag than complaint, but Cash simply snorted.
“Are you looking for me to kiss them?” He didn’t seem eager to move from where he’d sprawled in a wooden deck chair next to the outdoor bathtub. Yawning, he swirled the ice in the large mason jar of tea in his hand. We were both tired after finishing the porch repair, which had occupied the past few days, but I was rather triumphant.
“I have other things for you to kiss. Later,” I said airily. “And we built a whole porch. These are like…trophies.”
I inspected my hands, stretching out in the long, old-fashioned tub. The water was more comfortably warm than piping hot like in the main suite back in my house, but I liked this setup far more, mainly for the company.
“War wounds.” Cash shook his head. “I’m telling you, a person like you could have been a SEAL. You’re tough, and you don’t run from dirt or scars.”
“Pretty sure you’re the first person to call me tough.” I managed a laugh, but my feet tensed against the bottom of the tub. “Danny Love is an iconic nerd, remember?”
“Coulda fooled me.” Giving me a lazy smile, Cash rolled his shoulders and neck. “Is it terrible I’ve never seen an episode of either of your shows?”
“No, it’s wonderful.” I kicked my feet, sloshing water onto the rocks below. “And you’re only fooled because you haven’t seen me in glasses. Speaking of, I need to rotate my contacts later. We kicked up a ton of dust earlier.”
I was getting low on my disposable lenses because, like usual, I’d forgotten to renew the prescription, but Cash didn’t need me fretting over another screwup on my part. The way he always bristled when I talked badly about myself made me warmer than the rapidly cooling water. He thought I was tough. I’d savor that awhile.
“We did good.” Cash had done most of the work with the power tools, but we’d made a solid team with me holding boards in place and staging things for him. “You earned your soak.”
“I did. I like this way of getting clean.” I flicked water in his direction before curving my fingers to beckon him over. “You should try it.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He dodged the water droplets but otherwise stayed seated, apparently not tempted by my invitation. His hair was still damp from a lightning-fast shower he’d taken to rinse off. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, making him sexy as fuck in the late afternoon sun as he laughed, little crinkle lines around his eyes. “Think I last took an actual bath at like seven. Soon as I could run a shower myself, that was easiest, I guess.”