Page 34 of Take My Hand

My hand twitches, wanting to reach out and place it on his leg, in comfort and reassurance that I see him. I understand him.

But instead, I slip them beneath my thighs and lean back into the plush leather. “Of course. It’s nice to get out today. If you hadn’t shown up, I would’ve rotted away on my couch all day.”

The moment the words hit the air, I wish I could take them back. He doesn't need to know that I have nothing to do and no one to hang out with today.

But he raises a knowing brow at me as the light turns green. “Same here.”

Yet another worker enters the aisle and walks toward us, the third one in twenty minutes since we arrived.

“Is there anything I can help you find? Advise on anything you might be looking for? You look a little lost,” he calls out, stuffing his hands in his jeans as he stops in front of our cart.

“Christ,” Hayden mutters, and I shoot him a scolding look.

“No, thank you. We’ve got it,” I tell the associate, who nods once and backs off. “Be nice,” I tell Hayden once the worker is out of earshot.

He tilts his head to the side and rolls his eyes. “They’ve been circling us ever since we walked in.”

I shrug, grabbing the cool handle of the cart and pushing it forward. He falls into step with me, scanning the rows of screws on either side of us. “That’s how it is when I come to places like this. They take one look at me and assume I need help with every little thing and wouldn’t possibly know what I need to get my jobs done.”

“Fucking stupid,” Hayden mutters.

“I don’t disagree.”

I sneak a look at him, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say his annoyance has more to it than just the workers pestering us. By the way he steps slightly closer to me each time a worker approaches and stands up straighter, eyeing the guys with sharp focus, I’d think he might be…jealous?

No. I shake that thought out of my head. I’m reading too much into things. Looking for something that isn’t there. He hasn’t made any move or indicated that he sees me as anything more than a friend.

He’s just watching out for me, feeling protective over me and my intelligence while these men try to prove how competent they are while downplaying my own capabilities.

We stroll down a center aisle and I look up at the signs above, looking for the drills. I’ve already gotten Hayden a lot of the basics.

A set of screwdrivers with a mix of flat and Phillips head sizes, a level, pliers, a set of wrenches, multiple sizes of nails, a stud finder, wire cutters, and a few rolls of electric tape, painters tape, and duct tape.

“It’s fun shopping like this,” I tell him, turning us down an aisle to the left.

“As a team?”

I pause, swallowing his answer. I meant getting to pick everything out for him and not having to spend a dime of my light bank account. No budget to stick to, no expense to mind.

But now that answer feels so cheap, so surface level.

And I like his a lot better. Because I like the sound of us being a team. Doing this together. And I like having him here with me, taking turns pushing the cart, chatting as we search for everything he needs, and taking my advice with no questions asked.

He makes me feel like I’m offering him something of value. That my opinion is valued. With each step through the store, I can feel my confidence building.

I give him a small smile. “Yes. As a team.”

He holds my gaze for a moment, then two, his brown eyes shining like expensive whiskey before he clears his throat and turns toward the shelves.

“Alright. What are we looking for here?” His voice is scratchy as he speaks.

I abandon my spot behind the cart and walk beside him, our shoulders so close that just the slightest sway would have them brushing. His cologne overpowers the scent of oil and wood in the store, and I lean into it.

“Carter?”

His voice jolts me out of my stupor and heat rises to my cheeks. “Sorry, yes, um. Let’s see.” I step closer to the shelves, trying to look invested in the options in front of me and not distracted by the man standing next to me.

Hayden moves out of the way as I walk past him, weighing the options.

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