“You know what a snap driver is, don’t you?” Troy prompts from where he sits as I sort through the endless box of tools giving him a clear shot of cleavage through my silky top.
“Of course, I do.” I have absolutely no idea what the hell a snap driver is. But I damn sure won’t tell him that as I take my time, glancing between him and the toolbox. He doesn’t so much as look my way as I scrutinize every tool.
“Then you are aware it’s a figment of my imagination.” He chuckles as I look up and see his movie star grin before narrowing my eyes.
“You dick.”
“Sorry, couldn’t resist. So, I guess having me around has come in handy?”
“Don’t go fishing for compliments after insulting a woman’s intelligence.”
“You’re the smartest woman I know,” he says easily as he tests the wheels on the bike before flipping it over and unlatching the kickstand.
“What?”
He studies the bike after weighing my expression. “It’s good, I swear, and I got the dorky ass helmet you demanded and knee pads.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m his—”
“I mean for that compliment.”
“Oh,” he waves his hand. “Well, you are.”
“It’s nice of you to say.”
“Well, I mean it.”
I yawn, and he stands.
“Tired, huh?” He looks at the clock. “This is normally the time I get ready for work.”
“How can you stand it?”
“Sometimes, I can’t. I’ll be happy when I have one job, even if it looks like it’s going to be UPS.”
“Troy, you’ll get drafted. There’s so much talk, and you had a spectacular season despite the way it ended.”
He shakes his head, his disappointment evident. “Let’s not go there tonight, okay?”
I nod. “Okay.” I perk up for his sake. “Hey, you want some eggnog?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Coffee?”
Tea? Me?
I’m doting on him like a lovesick teenager, but I can’t seem to help myself.
“I’m good,” he repeats, grabbing another box and pulling out the contents. “This is fun,” he says, opening another set of directions.
“Never has been for me. I’m thankful you’re here. I used to have a hell of a time doing this alone. Parker would sometimes help when she was home, but she usually just dictated while I pulled my hair out. And the irony is Dante is so good at this kind of stuff. Now I see where he gets it. I’m glad you’re here.”
“You said that,” he looks over to me as he rips open the plastic, and for that brief moment, I swear I see a flash of heat in his eyes. However, just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone.
“What?” He asks without looking my way.