“Fine.” Emma crossed her arms again. “You need to think of a project, and I need to get some things done so I can focus on teaching you the steps—“
Faith didn’t hear anything Emma said after that, because Grant sauntered around the corner and into their aisle. His gaze fastened on Faith with bold deliberateness and made her stomach jump to her throat.
“Do I hear you ladies talking about YouTube?” he asked, wandered toward them. Emma spun around, but Grant’s gaze stayed locked on Faith in a way that made her mouth go dry. A slow smile tipped his mouth. “Because I’d be real interested in getting in on video with y’all.”
A laugh bubbled up from nowhere. “Y’all?” Faith said, hiding her nerves behind sarcasm. “You picked up a southern accent in the last...” She pretended to look at a non-existant watch. “What? Three, four hours?”
He laughed. “You’re so funny.”
“I try.” She pulled her gaze off all the muscle stretching the soft fabric of his Henley and grabbed another string of lights. “I need something to keep me from”—fantasizing about you—“going insane.”
“Hi,” Emma said, extending her hand. “I’m Emma, Caleb’s mom.”
“Grant,” was all he offered as they shook. “Yeah, saw him messing around with the fishing poles. He told me you were back here.” He took his hand back and slipped his thumb into the front pocket of his jeans, which drew Faith’s gaze to an area she had no business looking at. “Great kid. Little hyper for hockey, but if I can get him to channel it, he’s going to streak across the ice.”
Emma laughed. “If you get him to channel it, I’ll pay handsomely for the secret.” She looked at Faith. “I’d better go find him before he breaks something.” Then she told Grant, “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
When his gaze settled on Faith again, he grinned. And it was that expectant grin again. As if he were waiting for her to go all bat-shit crazy over him.
“What have you got there?” she asked instead, glancing at the rusted faucet he held in his hand. “And how are you finding so many things that need fixing at your parents’ house? That place looks like a pristine mansion from the outside.”
“Kitchen faucet,” he said, “and its not from the main house, it’s from the guest house. That’s where I’m staying. And when I’m fixing something, neither of my parents bitch at me. So I’m happy to do it.”
“That has to suck.”
He lifted a shoulder, but broke eye contact and studied the faucet. “Whatever.” He refocused on her. “Are you going to wind all those yourself?”
“I tried to tempt Caleb with a paycheck, but those fishing reels must have really caught his eye.”
“I’ll help.” He moved forward. “And you don’t even have to pay me.”
She smirked. “Oh, no?”
He dropped into a crouch, looked her directly in the eye and grinned. “I’m more into trades.”
Setting aside the faucet, he dropped to his butt, crossed his legs and grabbed the tail end of a light strand.
“We’re not trading anything,” she clarified.
“That remains to be seen.”
“You must have better things to do.”
“Than sit here and look at you?” he asked. “Nope. Notta one.” When Faith just shook her head, he asked, “So what’s your project? The one you were talking to Emma about?”
Faith’s stomach tightened. “How long were you eavesdropping?”
“Why? Saying things you don’t want me to hear? About me maybe?”
“Pfffft. We weren’t talking about you.”
“If you say so. But it would probably be better for you to just tell me about the video you’re planning, because I’m sure your version would be tamer than the things I have rolling around my brain right now.”
“And why are you so sure of that?” She was caught between annoyance for his arrogance and amusement at the lengths he was going to gain her attention. “Because I live in the boondocks, you don’t think I can think just as dirty as you?”
His hands halted in the middle of winding a strand. He lifted his brows in a teasing expression, but his pretty eyes took on a little shadow of heat. “Should we compare notes?”