“Hey, come on in.” I clear my throat nervously. “Sorry for startling you.”Good god,what in the ever-loving hell is going on with me?
“That’s okay,” he says, sending me a sweet smile. I can’t help but take a moment to admire him. The way his faded jeans fit his long, muscular legs like a second skin, the way his T-shirt clings to his broad chest under his unbuttoned plaid flannel.
Tilting my head back to meet his eyes, I find him observing me carefully.
Shit, I’ve just spent the last fifteen seconds ogling the guy, and it probably weirded him right out. If I don’t pull my shit together right quick, this situation is going to get real awkward real fast.
“Um, right.”Jesus, Reed, brilliant conversation right there.“Let me, ah, take your coat, and I’ll show you around the place.”
“Okay, sure,” he says amicably.
After hanging his coat, I clear my throat again. “So, where would you like to start?” I ask, reminding myself yet again that he’s here to fix my electrical issues, not to help me, um, clean out my pipes—so to speak. I need to focus on explaining the problem so he can do what he’s actually here for. My dick, the stubborn fucker, hasn’t received the memo that this is not a playdate, and I have to discreetly adjust myself as I turn away from Dylan, praying to all the gods that he doesn’t notice the hard-as-steel bulge growing ever bigger in my jeans.Fucking hell.
“Why don’t you show me your electrical panel,” he says, and holy mother of god, I think I draw blood when I bite down on my cheek to stop the saucy retort that I’m dying to come back with. This. Is. Not. The. Time. Jesus, why can’t I remain professional for at least the first ten minutes he’s in my house.
“Sure, right this way.” I smile demurely and head toward the stairs. When we get down to my dingy basement, I explain to Dylan what the electrician told me as I lead him over to the electrical panel. He spends a few minutes poking around at the different breakers and switches, trying to decipher the chicken scratches that are supposed to identify which outlet is which.
Standing in the cold, dimly lit basement, I can feel the heat coming off his body, sending a pleasurable shiver down my spine. He smells of coconut and vanilla, which somehow seems to suit him perfectly. I subtly suck in a deep breath, and the scent is like feeling warm sunshine on my skin and my toes buried in soft, white sand.
“Okay, I think I know what I’m dealing with here. Can I have a look around upstairs?” Dylan asks, startling me out of my reverie. I jump back in surprise, my heel catching on a stack of old tile that’s lying on the floor directly in front of the panel for some reason, and lose my balance. A most unmanly squeal leaves me as I stagger back, flailing my arms wildly as I try to regain my balance. It’s no use. My ass hits the cement floor hard as I land squarely on my tailbone, forcing the air from my lungs in a loud grunt.
Chapter 8
DYLAN
“Holyshit,areyouokay?” I have no idea what happened, but somehow, Reed fell, and I swear I heard a crack when his ass hit the cement floor. Goddamn, that must hurt like a bitch.
“Oh, I’m fine, it’s fine,” he says weakly.
“Jesus Christ. Here, let me help you up.” He grabs my extended hand with a grateful smile.
Wincing as he gets to his feet, he reaches around to feel his lower back and tailbone, letting out a pained hiss as he puts pressure on the area.
“It’s okay. I don’t think I broke anything, but I’m pretty sure my coccyx is good and bruised.”
“Your what now?” I know I didn’t hear that right.
He grins. “My tailbone.”
“Oh, right, of course,” I stammer.
Oh, my favorite. Another unexpected and potentially embarrassing situation where I have no idea how I’m supposed to act. Yay. I lower my gaze to the floor, bending over to move the offending stack of tile over to the wall so it’s less likely to trip anyone else.
“Well.” Reed clears his throat, and chancing a quick look at him, I see his face is bright red, and he’s looking anywhere but at me. Suddenly, I feel better, realizing he must be embarrassed too. I know I would be.
Wiping his palms on his jeans, he offers me a weak smile. “I guess, now that I’ve provided this afternoon’s entertainment, we can continue with our tour.”
I shoot him what I hope is a compassionate smile. “Well, the entertainment was great, but I just hope you’re not hurt. That would be a bummer…” I let out a snort of laughter. “Hey, see what I did there? Bummer?”
Reed rolls his eyes and snickers. “Oh my god, that joke was nearly as painful as my fall.”
Suddenly, the tension disappears, and we’re standing in his basement, grinning at each other like two idiots.
“Well, let’s head upstairs to continue our tour, and I’ll make sure I haven’t done any lasting damage.” He grins and takes a slightly unsteady step toward the staircase.
“Shit, can you make it upstairs?” I jump toward him, arms out to catch him if he goes down again, but he waves me off.
“No, no, I’m okay, seriously. But I’m going to be real fucking sore for the next few days.” He starts up the stairs, shaking his head. “God, leave it to me to sustain an injury while doing nothing more than standing in my basement. Whatever made me think I could handle a whole house renovation like this, I have no damn idea.”