Why did I have to take the call that night? Why did I have to walk in here and see her? Why did she have to be so fucking beautiful? These are the questions that play on a loop in my head as I move and sweat. Then the question that I’m scared to ask creeps in and it won’t let go. What if I gave in?
It’s too fucking big inside me and I feel like I might split in half. I can’t believe after raising teenagers this is going to be the thing that kills me.
Hours go by and I don’t stop working. The advantage to that is I’ve completed in a day a job that would usually take a week. If I were smart I would have dragged it out, but I was too focused on not thinking about what I feel, but it didn’t work. As soon as I stand back and use the bottom of my shirt to wipe away the sweat on my face it all comes crashing back.
“Oh god,” I hear Harlow gasp, and I look over to see her staring at my bare stomach.
I glance down to see my own stomach that’s long past the years of a six pack and now is a little soft around the middle. I’m hairy, too, and I wonder if she’s used to seeing young muscled guys with tanned skin and I hate that she might not like what she sees. I drop my shirt quickly and turn around to pack up my tools.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Jason Statham?” Her tongue darts out and licks her bottom lip.
I think the boys have mentioned it in passing when we’ve watched his movies, but I’m a little softer than he is. I shrug and don’t answer as she steps farther into the kitchen.
“This looks so beautiful.”
I want to tell her that it’s nothing compared to her, but I clench my jaw tight. I just need to get out of here and these feelings will stop. Never mind that I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night because I was thinking about her.
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing my tool belt and slinging it over my shoulder.
“Let me know where to send the bill. Normally Nellie handles all that, but I know this was an emergency.” She won’t look at me now and I can’t fucking stand it.
“There’s no charge.” My voice sounds like I’ve never used it before. It’s low and rumbling in my chest and I want to scream so that she understands the pain I’m feeling right now.
“I can’t do that, Butch.” The sound of my name on her lips is like a knife in the heart. “I appreciate everything and it wouldn’t feel right.”
The way she says “everything” has so many more connotations than just the work in the kitchen.
“Fuck,” I curse and drop my tools and go to her. I push her back against the wall and wrap my arms around her waist as my mouth falls on hers. She gasps and I run my tongue past her lips and give in to everything I’ve spent all day trying to stop.
I’ve never been so uncontrolled in my life, but letting go and kissing her is the single greatest thing I’ve ever felt. It’s selfish and I can’t remember the last time I had that luxury. As a parent you always put yourself last and you do it because you love your kids. But Harlow has opened a set of doors that I thought were welded shut forever.
“Have dinner with me,” I say as my kisses slow. I don’t stop, but I’m able to at least form a thought while my lips are on hers.
Her hands snake up my shirt and I feel her fingers in my chest hair. I want to purr like a fucking panther at her touch on my skin and I have to lock my knees to keep from falling over. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched, but it never felt like this before.
“Dinner?” she asks between kisses and I nod. “Tonight?” I nod again, and she smiles against my mouth. “Yes.”
“Good,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers and trying to get myself under control. “I’m going to go home and take a shower. I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up.”
“You’re not going to get cold feet on me again, are you?” she asks as she looks up at me through her lashes.
How could I have ever thought I’d be able control myself when it comes to her?
“One hour,” I confirm, and she nods as I grab my tools. I go to the door and I look her up and down one last time. “Wear a dress.”
With that I walk out the door and down to my truck. I breathe in the warm air and try not to think about all the ways this could go wrong.