His whole body, to be honest, is huge. So much bigger than the scrawny kid I remember. Or even the handsome but lean guy in high school who never so much as glanced my way, despite all the summers we spent together as kids. Now, with the way he’s built up… God, he could toss me around the bedroom any way he wanted.
Fuck. Stop it, Sasha. This is not the time or the place.
“Paying attention?” he asks, his voice low and close to my ear—so close the breath tickles my skin.
Dammit. “Of course,” I respond.
He lines up the first nail, shows me how to drive it in. Then he shows me what angle to lay the next tile so the roof will all lie flat and orderly. Then he releases me, and I try to ignore the quiver in my thighs, or the way my pussy tightens in reflexive protest.
Having him kneeling behind me was too damn hot.
I suck in fresh air to try to clear my head, and then, while he watches, I nail down another tile, then another.
Eventually, he nods, satisfied, and goes back to his own pile of tiles.
I try not to watch him out of the corner of my eye too often. Or to track the way his biceps flex as he drives in the hammer.
Once or twice, I catch him looking back at me. My cheeks flush both times, and by the third time, I tell myself I need to behave. I keep my eyes ahead, focused on the tiles, and shift over ahead of him. That way I won’t be tempted.
We work in tandem for what feels like hours, though to judge by the way the sun is inching up the horizon, it can’t be more than one hour at most. I make it all the way up to the center of the roof, and then I turn to get more tiles.
This time, though, it’s Grant who I find staring at me. More specifically, at my ass. My cheeks flush again, and I realize with how short these shorts are, and how far I’m bent over kneeling on this roof, my ass cheeks must have been showing.
I set down the hammer, face bright red. “If I’m distracting you, you know, I can go and change,” I say, mostly to call him out. Even though, I have to admit, I’m enjoying knowing the effect I have on this guy. He might be judgmental at times, but he’s also hot as hell. It’s been a long time. Good to know I’ve still got it.
Grant’s eyes catch mine, full of humor. But his voice is dead serious when he replies, “Don’t.”
That one word makes my belly clench, and my legs quiver. Combined with the way his dark eyes still hook on mine, boring into me, it’s making the ache between my legs grow to a distracting level.
Then he smirks again, a knowing smile that tells me he knows just how much of an effect he’s having on me. Without another word, he turns back to his own work.
After a moment’s hesitation, I go back to nailing down my row of shingles too. We work until almost half the roof is finished, when Grant leans back on his heels and taps the empty bucket. “Out of nails. I’ll have to do a supply run later.”
“I can go,” I offer.
“Do you even remember where the hardware store is?” He cocks an eyebrow.
I bite my lip. “I have GPS.”
“You think any stores in this town are on Google Maps?” He laughs.
I sigh and sit back on my heels. “Still. If you give me directions, I don’t mind running out. You’ve put in so much work here already.” I cast an eye past the rooftop, at the distant yard, where, from this vantage, I’ve already been able to see evidence of his handiwork. Some of the fields have been plowed, the soil tilled. Others show signs of recent plantings. Not only is he fixing up the house itself, but he’s even working on the land. I didn’t even think to do that. “I want to pull my own weight.”
“Clearly you can,” he replies, casting a glance at the tiles I lined up. “My mistake for doubting you.”
“I accept your apology,” I answer with a faint smile.
He grins back at me. “Still don’t think you can handle everything about country life, City Girl.”
“You mean life in general or something in particular?” I lift one eyebrow.
“I was thinking selfishly, I’ll admit.”
“And just why do you think I can’t handle you, exactly, Country Boy?”
His gaze drops over my body again, slowly. “You turn bright red every time I look at you, let alone say anything.”
He’s right, I am blushing. But I force myself to lift my chin and lock eyes with him. I want to prove him wrong. I’m not the blushing girl he thinks. “Why, have something you want to say?”