Page 15 of Smith

Philip and a million other people saw that video. After what happened yesterday I was thinking about halting posting any more videos until Smith figured out what was going on. And that sucked. Big time. YouTube wasn’t a huge source of income, but I was a budding real estate mogul and every little bit helped. Besides that, the thought just plain pissed me off.

Why should I have to alter my life because some jackass broke into my flip? Why should I have to alter the course of my life because someone was mailing the old owner weird letters? And seriously, why the hell had someone been following me?

“People are motherfucking assholes,” I corrected.

“Comin’ in hot on a Monday morning.”

“Is there a day of the week I don’t?”

Philip chuckled and doubled down with a shake of his head.

“Fair. I’ll let you set up and tell the guys you’re ready. Same crew as always.”

I watched Philip walk out the door thinking about how much I liked him. He was older than me by at least five or six years. No gray in his dark hair but the slightly leathered look of his face told the tale of his love for the outdoors. Incidentally this didn’t detract from his good looks. It only made him look rugged—the rough and ready kind that said he was up for a good time, whenever that was to happen. He also was a good guy, just plain good. He’d never treated me like I was less than because I was a woman—and yes, that had happened plenty of times with other men in the industry. There was still a backwards ass mentality of, ‘don’t pitch the bitch’ that I’d run into. Nor had he looked at me funny when he asked about my cameras and I explained I was filming the reno for YouTube—and, yes, again, some of the subs I’d had to contract for electrical and plumbing had given me looks and made comments.

Philip was totally game to be on camera. Plus he was a wealth of knowledge and was for hire for side jobs, which I’d taken advantage of when I needed an extra pair of hands to move lumber or drywall.

In other words, I knew him enough to feel comfortable cursing in his presence and sharing honestly my thoughts and feelings about someone breaking in.

By the time he and John carried in the first three pieces of sheet rock—which was impressive they could carry three at a time, that shit was heavy—I had two cameras in different corners of the room filming. Since all the men had signed off on being filmed, I let the camera roll for the next half hour while they unloaded. I knew better than to offer Philip help. He’d deny me with a shake of his head and a smile. This was not because he didn’t think I was capable, but I paid for delivery and that included delivery into the house. So instead of hanging aroundwatching drywall pile up, I went upstairs to survey the damage now that I wasn’t red-hot pissed to assess what repairs needed to be done.

Not-so-pissed didn’t last long when I walked into the bedroom I was in the process of gutting to turn half of it into a master bathroom and the other half into a much-needed, kickass walk-in closet. I’d tear out the existing closet in the master, giving the room more square footage.

“You up here?” Philip called.

“Yeah.”

“You got a visitor. Name’s Smith, he said you were expecting him.”

My smile wasn’t due to Philip playing security, which I appreciated. No, I was smiling because Smith was at least a half hour early.

“You can send him up!” I called back.

I should’ve known, Mr. Team Guy, former SEAL would be prompt if not early. But I couldn’t be sure. Most men who looked like Smith, talked like Smith, and had his swagger and confidence knew they could keep a woman waiting, therefore they did.

Guess the Team Guy side of him won out. Which was both good and bad. Good because I wanted to see him again. Also bad because I was desperate to see him again. The guy was just sexy. Sexy and fun to banter with. He had trouble written all over him and I wanted to know what kind of trouble he wrought. My guess was the heartbreak kind, but before that he’d show you a really great time. It was the good time I was after. I knew better than to allow myself to fall in love.

Nope.

Love led to pesky emotions. It led to compromise and selflessness. It led to making concessions and checking in and children and all sorts of other shit I had no interest in. But thatdidn’t mean I wasn’t in the market for an extended, exclusive good time—so long as there was an expiration date.

That meant with all those thoughts running through my head I was still smiling while Smith came into the bedroom looking positively delicious. I wanted to lick him from head to toe.

But first things first.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to show up to a party early?”

Smith glanced around the mess before his eyes landed on me. I was thoroughly enjoying the top to toe expectation, especially when his eyes landed on my chest and lingered. One could say I was busty. When I was a teenager, this was not fun. I’d complained endlessly to my mom. She’d rightfully elucidated one day I’d appreciate what God and genetics had granted me. She wasn’t wrong. I filled out a dress nicely—not too big to give me back problems but big enough to be fun.

I’d carefully chosen today’s outfit. My normal threadbare work jeans that did wonders for my booty and a black, ribbed tank. Under the tank I had my best hot pink push up bra, not that Smith would see the bra itself but he could see the miracles it produced.

So, yeah, I didn’t mind his gaze lingering. And I knew he’d caught onto my play when he smiled. I didn’t mind that either. I loved a good game of cat and mouse. I didn’t even mind being the mouse if my opponent knew what to do when he caught his prey and I had a feeling Smith knew exactly what to do and he’d do it spectacularly.

“I didn’t know we were having a party,” he returned with a wide smile.

“With me, every day’s a party,” I educated him.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

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