Page 60 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

Jamie nodded and picked up a picture hanger and the hammer for the first one. He lifted his arm. “You sure this is where you want it? No going back after I start.”

“I’m sure.”

He hammered the small nails into the wall, and she grabbed the painting and brought it over.

“So how’d that book work for you?” he asked as he took it.

She laughed. “Really well, actually. I had a great night’s sleep after you gave it to me.”

He glanced over at her and found her face strangely flushed. She seemed almost embarrassed for some reason, so he didn’t call attention to it. “I’m glad. This look even?”

“Perfect.”

They repeated the process with the other two, and he tossed the hammer to the carpet before positioning the final painting on the wall.

As he worked, she told him about her recent clients and the project she was finalizing for his sister’s bakery. He told her about a book he’d recently read that threw him for a loop in the best way, and she asked for suggestions for the best Mexican restaurants around town—which wasn’t difficult, because he hadn’t met a salsa he didn’t like.

“Good?” he asked before stepping away from the final painting.

Her eyes were bright. “Yes, I love it. Thank you so much.”

“Anytime.”

Seriously, he’d do anything for her, anytime.

A heavy silence descended, though Hank didn’t seem to notice, completely passed out and snoring on the edge of her couch.

“We’d better get out of your hair. Hank, come.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.” She took a step forward and her toe caught the lid of the toolbox he’d left open, pitching her forward. Jamie immediately reached out to steady her, his hands closing around her waist, andhers blindly reaching out and landing on his forearms. She regained her balance in his arms, her hip brushing his and her hair near his face.

Her breath hitched.

His heart stopped.

They both froze and he closed his eyes, fighting the urge to pull her closer, body flush against his. Energy pulsed through him, charged and thick.

She tipped her chin up and regarded him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Her pupils widened at the same time one of her thumbs shifted across his skin.

Had—had she justcaressedhim? That was on purpose, right?

In that moment, everything but her flew straight out of his mind: Carly, his dad, his worries about mass deforestation and global warming. All forgotten.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips parted and her grip tightened on his forearms. He wouldn’t make a move—would leave it up to her—but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to pull away.

Hank chose that moment to obey Jamie’s command and jumped down, coming over to shove his nose between their thighs.

She blinked as if coming back to herself and edged sideways, dropping her arms.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“No, um ... thanks.” Her cheeks were still pink. She knelt to close the toolbox and latch it, then rose again to hand it to him. “This would have taken a lot longer without your help.”

He took it from her, careful not to touch her skin. Her apartment suddenly felt warm, and he needed to keep her at arm’s length if they were going to continue whatever avoidance ritual they were doing.

Elliott ruffled Hank’s ears in goodbye, and they left, Jamie struggling to make sense of everything that had just happened.

She’d come to him for help: good.

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