by Kelly, Hazel
"Go ahead," she said, leaning in the door frame and extending her hand towards the patio furniture.
"Thanks," I said, taking a sip without taking my eyes off her.
"Is that okay?" she asked in a tone that implied I was the high maintenance one in this relationship.
"Yeah, it's delicious," I said, walking over to one of the wide wicker chairs. "Thanks for going to the trouble."
She pursed her lips and stepped out onto the porch. Her toes were painted and her legs looked shiny all the way up to where her shorts cut across her pale thighs.
I was starting to get the sense that even though she may not have had anyone else taking care of her, she looked like she was doing a pretty good job taking care of herself.
"So how much longer will you be disturbing the peace?" she asked.
I laughed. "I'll try to keep it down," I said. "I didn't realize anyone was home."
"Five minutes? Forty minutes? More?"
I shrugged. "I can probably finish the porch in a couple hours," I said. "But I can't promise I'll be able to finish everything today."
She raised her eyebrows. "Everything?"
"I've got a whole list of maintenance jobs to do in this area," I said. "So unfortunately, there’s a good chance you’ll see me around again.”
She folded her arms in front of her and looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not annoyed with you." She looked up at me. "I'm just frustrated with some other stuff."
"Anything I can help you with?" I asked, hoping she'd invite me in for a quickie.
"No. I just don't really want to be here right now, but that's not your fault," she said. "So I shouldn't take it out on you."
I wished she would, though. Oh god how I wished she would.
Chapter 12: Addison
He was leaning back in the porch chair like he owned the place, his abs contracting while he spoke. He was so handsome I felt like I was in some kind of handyman porno, like a cameraman was about to fall out of the trees.
But his chiseled jaw and his handsome face didn't change the fact that I wished he wasn't there. After all, I had a book to get back to and chatting with him wasn’t relaxing for me. If anything, his presence seemed to be making my pulse quicken.
I watched him lick the tart juice off his lips and wondered whether he was just fit from his job or whether he worked hard to look so good. Either way, I suspected his level of vanity was nightmarish.
I turned to go in the house, figuring he didn’t need supervision on his juice break, but his voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Where would you rather be?" he asked.
"Sorry?"
He leaned forward and put the sweating glass on the table in front of him. "You said you wished you weren't here right now?”
"Yeah. So?"
“Usually it's the other way around," he said, raising his thick eyebrows. "Most big city people work hard so they can spend more time out here."
I shifted my weight. "What makes you think I'm a big city person?"
He looked at me like I must be joking. Then he looked me up and down so obviously I might as well have been naked for how exposed I felt under his gaze. "Just a hunch."
I smoothed my tiny shorts down, wishing they were longer. I didn't like him showing up uninvited and sizing me up without permission. Who the fuck did he think he was? "Believe it or not, some people prefer the city.”
"And some people don't know how to relax.”
I glanced away from his sharp eyes to his drink, willing the ice cubes to melt faster.
"What do you do then city girl?" he asked. "Are you a model or something?"
I squinted at him. "Is that the kind of line that works up here?"
"Only if the woman I'm hitting on doesn't realize how gorgeous she is."
I looked away from him towards his truck, wondering why I hadn’t heard him arrive and why I hadn’t insisted on bringing my own wheels.
"Is that a no?"
I tilted my head at him. "You're still going with the whole ‘are you a model’ line of questioning?"
"I'm only curious cause you look like a woman I used to know."
"And she was a model, was she?"
"Yeah," he said. “Sort of.”
"Well, I'm not," I said. "Not that what I do is any of your business."
"I wasn't trying to make it my business," he said. "I was just trying to make conversation."
"Maybe you should save your breath for the job you’re here to do instead of hitting on me for no reason."
"Who said I was hitting on you for no reason?"
"Are you serious?"
He shrugged. "Maybe I think I've got a chance."
"A chance to what?"
"A chance to prove to you that I’m not a hostile intruder."
I sighed. "I don't think you're a hostile intruder."
"That's progress."
I ran my fingers through my hair and scratched the back of my head. I was beginning to think that even if I went inside, I wouldn't be able to relax until he left.
"And I'll stop hitting on you if you want," he said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
I swallowed.
He crossed an ankle over his knee. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop picturing you on the cover of Sports Illustrated because it's been the highlight of my day so far."
My mouth fell open. "I insist you don't do that."
"I apologize," he said. "But it's way too late."
I watched him lean his head back and drain his glass, his Adam's apple bobbing fast.
"I'm a consultant," I said. "So picture me in a suit if you have to picture me at all."
"A birthday suit?"
"Excuse me?" I put my hands on my hips and craned my neck forward.
"I said thanks for the drink."
But I could tell by the look on his face that I hadn't misheard him. Were all men this disgusting or was he just especially arrogant? Or maybe it was just a workman's thing and his proximity to me was the only reason he hadn't let out a catcall.
He stood and walked over to me with his empty glass.
When I took it, my fingers brushed against his. They were large and thick under mine, and my breath caught in my throat.
"What's your name consultant?"
I looked at him for a while, unsure whether I should tell him, but I decided there was no harm. Plus, if I told him, wasn't he less likely to murder me? I couldn't remember. It had obviously been far too long since I’d had time for a Law & Order marathon.
"Addison," I said.
"Addison?"
"Yeah," I said, pretending to be unfazed by the wall of solid chest in front of me. "Why?"
"No reason," he said. "I don't know why I'm surprised."
"Me neither."
"Fancy name for a fancy girl."
"Trust me. I'm not that fancy."
"Maybe fancy's not the right word," he said. "But I assure you, you're the first person who’s ever tried to boss me around on the job-"
I pursed my lips.
"And the only person who's ever made me feel underdressed."
"You are underdressed."
He smiled. "You noticed?"
I stepped backwards towards the house. But it was no use. His wide shoulders still felt like they were dwarfing me. Like he could have them closed around me in a split second, his big fingers over my mouth.
In fact, I was starting to think that the forest was the least of my problems.
"What's your name?" I asked, scrambling to feel some semblance of control over the situation.
"Wyatt."
"Wyatt?"
"Yeah," he said. "But my friends call me Jonesy."
"Well, Wyatt," I said, feeling behind me for the doorknob. "It's been lovely talking to you, but I don't want to keep you from your work."
"No?" he asked, his mouth curling up on one side.
"No," I said, refusing to let my eyes drop to where his low slung jeans
sagged between his hip bones.
"Shame," he said, pulling his thick hair loose so it fell around his shoulders. "I've enjoyed talking to you, too."
"Let me know if you need anything else."
"Thanks," he said, smoothing his hair back and putting it up again. "You do the same."
I watched his muscular arms bulge next to his face. "Actually, there is something I could use your help with if you don't mind."
“Sure," he said, dropping his eyes to my lips.
"Wait here," I said, spinning behind the door and pulling it shut behind me. Moving out of his personal space felt like throwing a heavy blanket off me, like remembering how to breathe. So I did, inhaling deeply right where I was and exhaling through my nose. Finally, I went to the kitchen, grabbed the jam jar, and hurried back out to the porch.
"Do you think you could open this for me?" I asked, holding it out to him.
He smiled and took it in his hands, making the jar seem tiny and unintimidating. He popped it open a second later.
"Thanks," I said, closing the lid and opening it again to make sure I could. "I really appreciate that."
"You all by yourself up here?"
"Only at the moment,” I said, pretending to look past his shoulder. “But my friends should be arriving soon." I squeezed the jar in my hands. “They'll probably be here any minute.”
"So let me get this straight," he said. "Your name is Addison. You're definitely up here alone. You don't have any friends coming any time soon, and you're completely out of your element which is why your imagination is playing tricks on you-"
"My imagination?" I furrowed my brow. "That's not right at all. I just-"
"What?" he asked. "You just always treat people like potential murderers?"
I cast my eyes down at his boots and then looked back at his face. "It's worked for me so far."
He rolled his eyes. "Fair enough," he said. "I’m sure it will keep working as long as you're here."
"You think so?"
He nodded. “It’s pretty safe up here,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you anyway.”
"Yeah?"
"And I’d only hurt you if you asked me to."
"What are you talking about? Why on Earth would I ask you to hurt me?"
He shrugged. "Most girls like it rough."
My eyes grew wide. "Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but our relationship won't be coming to that crossroads so how I like it will remain irrelevant. And for the record, I’m not like most girls."
"You've made that quite clear," he said. "In fact, I think that's my favorite thing about you."
Chapter 13: Wyatt
"I thought you were going to stop hitting on me," she said, turning her palms up. "I thought you were being nice by reassuring me that I was safe up here in the middle of nowhere and then you went and ruined it."
"You are safe," I said. "And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you all worked up."
"I'm not all worked up."
"My mistake," I said, amused by her defensiveness. "I guess I'll get back to work then."
"I think that's a good idea," she said, holding the jam jar in front of her with both hands.
"Nice meeting you, anyway," I said, heading down the stairs.
"You, too," she said. "And if there's anything else I can do to help you out-"
I smiled. "Actually," I said, turning around. "There is something-"
"You must be joking," she said. "You're not actually going to ask me for a favor after all that?"
"I wouldn't call it a favor as such."
She rolled her eyes. "I’m listening."
"I was thinking that later- when I'm done with work for the day- it might be nice to have a beer."
"I'm afraid I can't help you there," she said. "Don't have any."
"I wasn't actually suggesting you bring me another drink."
She furrowed her brow. "Oh."
"I was suggesting I get you one."
"You want to go for a drink?" she asked. "With me?"
"Yeah," I said. "Maybe even two if you'll put up with me that long."
"I don't know."
"If it helps, when I say go for a drink, I'm suggesting I take you to a bar in town full of people."
"Right."
"Not that I drive you into the forest where no one will hear you scream."
“That’s a relief.”
"I won't try and make you scream until you've had a few drinks."
"Are you going to be inappropriate the whole time?"
"Not the whole time," I said. "Not out loud anyway."
She shook her head. "I appreciate the offer," she said. "Really. I'm flattered. But I don't think it's a good idea."
"Why?" I asked. "You afraid you might actually have a good time?"
"No. I'm sure I would have a lovely time. It's just that-"
"You're worried you won't be able to keep your hands off me?"
She sighed and looked down at her feet, her red hair falling around her face.
"Cause that's okay," I said. "I can handle myself. No matter how much you try to violate me-”
"Unbelievable."
“I can assure you I will be a complete gentleman."
She looked up at me. "I'm not really looking for anything right now."
"You mean you don't usually date guys who don't have to wear a shirt to work."
"No, that's not what I mean at all. I just don't have time."
"How long do you think it takes to have a drink?" I asked.
"I meant for a relationship."
It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. "Look, I don't know what going for a drink implies where you come from, but I'm not suggesting you commit to anything, especially not to me."
She pursed her lips.
"All I'm saying is that I'm going to go for a drink. Do you want to come or not?"
"Just a drink?"
"Yeah," I said. "Believe it or not you aren't the only one on the planet who isn't interested in a committed relationship."
"I know. I’m sorry. I didn't mean to imply-"
"I don't give a damn what you meant to imply," I said. "Can I take you out for a drink or not?"
She pressed her palm flat against her forehead and closed her eyes.
I walked down the last two steps to the ground. "If you're too busy bird watching, I understand."
She groaned. "Fine."
I turned to look at her over my shoulder, ignoring the fact that she hadn't exactly sounded thrilled to accept my invitation.
"You make a good point."
I smiled. "And good conversation I like to think."
She rolled her ankles so she was balancing on the sides of her feet. "Let's not get carried away."
I laughed, hoping that’s exactly what we’d do. "I’ll pick you up at eight."
"How about seven," she said. "I'm not looking to be out too late."
"Fine," I said, pleased that I’d be seeing her a little bit sooner. "Seven it is."
"And normally I would insist on meeting you there, but since I don't know where there is and I don't have a car-"
"It’s no problem," I said. "I’m happy to pick you up."
She seemed slightly paler for a moment, like all the color in her cheeks had moved to her lips.
"And I promise to have you home by your curfew and everything."
"Okay," she said, twisting the jar in her hands. "I'm going to head back inside then before I change my mind."
"Sounds good," I said. "I'll do my best to keep it down out here."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "Just do what you need to do to get it done."
"Yes ma'am."
"And don't call me ma'am."
I smiled thinking of all the things I'd rather call her, names that would get her riled up and encourage her to behave badly.