Page 11 of Ravished By Her

“I can,” I said. It seemed like the right thing to do for my very first client.

Lacey shrugged. “You don’t have to.”

“Whatever you need,” I said, and she flashed me a quick look before focusing on the donut.

The two of us ate in silence before entering the house. “I’d love to get the kitchen finished today,” I said.

In addition to the living room and kitchen, there was also a dining room and an office on the first floor. The dining room and office were going to take probably a day each, due to how crammed they were. Finishing the kitchen was an easier task today. My body was sore already, but I wasn’t going to breathe a word of that to Lacey.

Today she had on another pair of cargo shorts and a black tank that showed off her arms. I was trying not to stare too much at them, but I had a thing for arms and shoulders on a woman and Lacey’s body was just the type to make my mouth go dry and my hormones start to race.

Even the baseball cap was doing it for me today, for some reason. Mentally slapping myself, I focused back on my job. There was no time to be lusting after my client. I was just here to work.

Lacey and I got moving, falling into the same routine that we’d had yesterday.

“These are nice dishes,” I said as we cleaned out one of the cabinets.

“Think they’re worth something?” Lacey asked.

“Definitely,” I said, wiping off a dish before stacking it with the rest of the set. Lacey had emptied her truck bed yesterday, so it was available to fill for another trip to the storage unit. We wrapped up each plate before carefully setting them in a box.

“Good,” she said with a sigh. “That’s good.”

I wondered what that was about, but I didn’t question it further.

“We’re definitely going to have to paint in here, at least the cabinets,” I said. There was nothing we could do about the ancient appliances but redoing the cabinets would make a world of difference.

“Mmm,” Lacey said. Her phone went off and she fished it out of one of her pockets, frowning at the screen. She sent off a quick reply before shoving it away again.

It was strange, spending so many hours with this woman that I didn’t know, going through the detritus of someone else’s life. In addition to the collections of art and statues and dishes and everything else, there were photographs that I’d carefully put aside in the living room so they didn’t get damaged. I’d made it a point to not look at too many of them. That felt too intimate. Too invasive a thing for me to do. So I put them in a corner and told myself not to look. Not to think about the man whose life was contained in this house.

“Do you like turkey sandwiches?” Lacey asked me when I suggested that we stop for a lunch break.

“I do,” I said, wondering why she’d asked.

Lacey pulled a cooler out of the fridge. “I made extra, if you wanted some.”

I’d brought my own lunch today like yesterday, but for some reason a turkey sandwich sounded better than what I’d packed.

“Sure,” I said.

“It’s just turkey, American cheese, tomato, lettuce, and mayo,” she said, handing me a sandwich wrapped in a reusable cloth wrapper.

“Works for me,” I said.

Her face relaxed into something that wasn’t a smile, but it wasn’t a scowl either. It was a pit stop on the way to a smile.

“I only brought one pickle though and I don’t share,” she said as we headed outside.

“That’s fine. The only pickles I like are fried and dipped in spicy ranch,” I said, and she plunked herself down on the steps.

“That sounds really good, actually,” she said.

“They make them at Nick’s Pizza,” I said, surprised at myself for chatting with her about fried pickles.

Lacey unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. I did the same, enjoying the thin-sliced turkey and fresh bread. There was just the right amount of mayo too.

“Now I’m going to be thinking about Nick’s for the rest of the day,” Lacey said, frowning into her sandwich.

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