“I’m busy then too.” I motion at the sign on the wall. “I take cash and checks. No credit cards yet because my swipe-box thing hasn’t come in the mail.”
He looks at me warily as he lifts out of his chair. Grabbing his wallet, he takes out a twenty and hands it to me. “Here you go. Keep the change.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Our hands touch as I take the money. My lips part as I pull away, my skin burning like it’s been buzzed with a shock of electricity.
“No, thank you,” he says. He gives me a long glance before turning around. “You need me to wait and help you to the car, Lorene?”
“I’ll help her,” Harper says, glancing at me before looking back at him. “You probably need to recover from being turned down, anyway, don’t ya, Penn?”
He chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t think that qualifies as being turned down.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “She’ll cave eventually.”
“Good luck with that,” I call out.
“No luck needed.” He has the audacity to wink.
“You’re right. Luck will do you no good,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
It’s more of a defensive posture than anything else, a way of putting a barrier of some sort between the two of us. His energy knows no bounds, though, and pummels me right through my limbs until he pulls his gaze away.
“So, you’re getting Ms. Lorene to her car when she’s done?” he asks Harper, obviously stalling.
“Yes, for the second time,” Harper says with a laugh. “Still in the process of making Lorene even more beautiful.”
“I don’t know how that’s possible,” he says.
Lorene holds out her hand. It trembles in the air as Penn takes it in his. “You’re a good boy, Penn.”
“Take care of yourself.” He presses a kiss to her cheek.
I watch the gentleness with which he treats Lorene, and I want to kick myself for turning him down. But I have to. I know it.
“See ya, Harp,” Penn says.
He opens the door. Sunshine and fresh air fill the room. My body pulls in that direction, wanting a final glimpse of him before he disappears outside. My brain tells me to fight the urge, that giving in is a signal I’m desperate. That’s not accurate or pretty.
Still, at the last second, I turn around. Penn is watching me.
“If you need help with that speaker, give me a call,” he teases.
“I know how to handle a tool.”
His eyes light up. “Glad to hear it.”
“I bet you are.”
He grins. “I really am an eight.”
Laughter topples out of my mouth.
“Get out of here, Penn,” Harper says.
“I’m going. I’m going.” He starts to leave but stops again. “See ya around, Avery.”
“I . . .”
The rest of the sentence doesn’t come out before the door closes. It’s just as well. What I was about to say—that I hope he doesn’t see me around—would’ve been a lie.
I hope I see Penn Etling around. I just hope even more that I can control myself, because for the first time in years, being around a man felt . . . good. Easy. Enjoyable on a totally organic level. If I can keep my wits about me, I’ll be fine. If not, it’s a mess waiting to happen.
Trouble. I smile to myself. That boy is definitely trouble.
CHAPTER FIVE
PENN
I tap the wooden plank with my boot. There’s no give, no wobble, and that godforsaken brick that Lorene had stuck under it is gone.
“That should do it,” I say, admiring my handiwork.
A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead. I catch it with the back of my hand as I bend to pick up my tools.
The step was a quick repair. I didn’t ask Lorene before I fixed it because she would’ve told me that her solution was fine. It was more not fine than I’d even imagined.
Tossing the tools in the bag, I let my mind drift. It snaps to Avery Perry.
A grin tickles my lips at the memory of her telling me no. I swear she got off on it. The way she dismissed me like I was some random guy at the post office asking for her number didn’t quite jibe with the coy smile when she didn’t think I was looking. Besides, there’s no doubt she wants me. Everyone wants me.
And I want her.
Excitement begins to bubble in my stomach as I consider how to play my cards. I can’t play them too fast, because something tells me there’s a slight chance she’d back away. But if I play them too slow, there might be an opening for some other prick to get his foot in the door.
Or worse.
My teeth grind together.
The idea of her saying yes to someone else before she says yes to me is mildly irritating. As I ponder the vision of another guy’s hand wrapped around her waist—before me or not—my jaw clenches harder.