Page 87 of Fated

I’m not the type of person who gets excited about men with hammers. This is not a fantasy I’ve ever had.

Ever.

I wouldn’t choose to dream about it. Not consciously. And I wouldn’t look forward to watching it.

But Aaron’s leaning forward, and his white T-shirt stretches tightly across his shoulders. The muscles of his back are highlighted by the sun falling through the gables of the porch. As he swings, the muscles in his arms tighten and strain.

If I thought I was thirsty before, now I’m dying of thirst.

Even though he’s fifty meters away, I swear I can see a drop of sweat trickling down his neck. I want to put my mouth over him. I want to know the salt and sweat of him.

He repositions the board he’s working on, places a nail, and swings again.

I catch my breath. It’s sticky-hot and I’m sweaty, covered in fish guts, and dying of thirst, and all I want to do is cross the sun-hot sand, push Aaron onto the shaded grass, and ask him to whisper my name.

“What is he doing?” I ask, my voice scratchy and parched.

“I asked him to fix my porch step,” Dee says, looking in the direction of my gaze.

“Is that his job?”

Is he a carpenter? A handyman? Is that what he does now?

“Job? No.”

I watch him insert another nail. It glints in the sun, and then he strikes it, nailing the board in place.

I’m overheated. The air is suddenly heavy with salt and sand and the memory of lying beneath him as he kissed me senseless. I’m glowing with the memory of his mouth on mine.

“What does he do then?” I ask, watching him work.

Dee glances at me. “What he’s always done. Whatever anyone asks of him.”

I look at her then, tearing my eyes from Aaron. “What does that mean?”

She frowns at me, her wrinkles wrinkling. “You know. He fixes. He helps.” She holds up her hand and ticks off on her fingers. “Repairs—carpentry, plumbing, electric, roofs—whatever you need, he’ll do. Hurricane prep—trimming trees, taking down coconuts—and cleanup in the aftermath—downed trees, flooding, home repairs. He’s our only certified paramedic besides Nurse Nancy—he saved Errol’s life, remember that. He’s island council, organizes beach cleanups, community service. He does import/export paperwork and orders and distributes supplies. He’s president of the council, he goes out with Aldon and Chris if they’re expecting a big catch, he ...” She narrows her eyes. “Do you need me to go on?”

I stare at her, the waves roaring onto the beach, echoing the strange sensation inside me. “There’s more?”

“Hmm. Swim lessons, swim safety, CPR. Boat repairs. Generator repairs. You have that back garden—he’s out there a lot. He teaches the ocean science class at the school. He’s taken to walking Whiskers every morning since Ayla broke her leg. What else?”

“He’s a dad,” I say, a curious sensation rushing over me.

Dee smiles and pats my arm, studying my expression. “Becca, you look like you’re falling in love with your husband.”

I send her a startled glance and she laughs.

“Do I?”

Am I?

Have I already?

I said I would. I said I’d take all this dream had to offer—the happiness, the love, the everything.

I look back at Aaron, the line of his shoulders, the black flash of his hair, the solidness of him. My heart beats wildly, wings fluttering in my chest.

Would it be so dangerous to love him? Would it be so wrong to fall irrevocably in love with a dream?

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