Page 12 of Sweet Southern Heat

Ah, there it is.

She was impatient. The princess couldn’t wait like everyone else. No, somehow she kept convincing Dean to take on her projects last minute. And,of course, he said yes because he had me, the poor sap who never turned down a job.

When would I learn?

Chapter 13

Olivia

Son of a bitch.Of all the people Dean could’ve sent, he had to choose Landon? I should’ve asked him to send someone else,anybodyelse. But no, once again he sent the man who hated my guts, the man who considered me his enemy. The man who looked damn good in a pair of faded blue jeans and a snug white tee clinging to his broad, muscular chest. Despite the scowl on his face and his surly demeanor, he looked like every suburban mom’s fantasy with his stubbled jaw, bulging biceps, and rough, calloused hands. The hands of someone who used them every day and worked long, hard hours. Hands that gentled when they roamed my body.

No, huh uh. I couldn’t go there. Thinking about Landon’s hands on my skin was off limits. It was a no-go zone. He would never voluntarily touch me. And I wouldn’t let him.

Would I?

Snapping myself from that line of thought, I led Landon to the deck to show him where the problem was. When Dean stopped by the other night to assess the issue, he noted some of the steps needed to be replaced as well. I gingerly climbed upthem, ensuring I placed my foot on the side of the steps with the least amount of damage.

“These boards right here,” I said, pointing to the damaged planks when we reached the deck, “and those first two steps.” Landon surveyed the area and nodded.

“I’ll grab my supplies and start on the steps first. That way your path to get inside will only be cut off for a short time.” The other damaged boards were thankfully far enough from the stairs and door that I would still have an unobstructed path leading into the house, albeit small. A couple of the boards ended just at the edge of the stairs; so as long as I stuck close to the railing, I wouldn’t be in his way.

“Sounds good. I’m trying to get the pool ready, so I’ll be outside most of the morning. Honey will be over later, but we’ll try to stay out of your way.” He simply nodded and placed his tool bag down, pulling a worn, leather belt from it. There were various tools slipped into the slots looped around it every few inches. My mouth watered when he slung it around his waist, the muscles in his tanned forearms flexing as he secured it into place. I swallowed and averted my gaze before he could catch me ogling him.

“This shouldn’t take long. I’ll be done by this afternoon,” he announced, his face a mask of indifference.

“That’s great,” I croaked out, then cleared my throat. “Let me know if you need anything.” He only spared me a cursory glance, his eyes flicking over my form skeptically as if wondering what he could possibly need from me before heading around front to his truck. The sting of embarrassment prickled my skin, and I scurried down the steps back to the pool.

Plucking my skimmer from the ground, I dipped the net in the water and continued with my cleaning. It was coming along nicely, and once I finished adding the chemical, it would be ready. I was proud of myself for remembering how to do all this.In high school, one of my chores had been taking care of the pool, and I gladly did it. If it wasn’t for me, my nan probably wouldn’t have even opened it. But I used it almost daily back then and always had friends over, especially Honey.

Today would be just like the good old days where we sat around the pool, sipping lemonade, and snacking on cookies. Only this time, it was a batch of homemade sea salt and caramel chocolate chunk cookies instead of the soft, prepackaged variety in the red bag I used to grab from the grocery store. They weren’t as good as mine, but I almost wished I had those instead, simply for nostalgia’s sake. Honey would be here soon, with a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade, just like her grandmother used to make us. I was looking forward to spending the day with her.

Landon returned carrying what looked like an impossible load of wood over one shoulder. He balanced the planks effortlessly, even as he carried them up the steps. Placing them down on the deck with a thud, he went around front again and returned with another load. Guilt gnawed at my gut. I should've told him to bring his truck around, even if it would tear up the grass. It would’ve saved him so much time and several trips back to his truck.

When he left for his third round, I went after him, catching him at the side of the house with another armful of lumber. He halted in his tracks, his gaze raking down my body before he could stop himself. The heat in his eyes sent a shiver down my body. My nipples pebbled, and goosebumps spread over my skin. Shit, he shouldn’t have this effect on me. It was wrong. We were enemies. Actually,hewasn’tmyenemy, but I was his. So why was he looking at me like he wanted to rip this bikini off and see what I tasted like?

Just the thought had a longing ache settling in my lower belly. How long had it been since someone did that to me? A year? Maybe two? Either way, it had simply been too long. Itwasn’t like I actually wanted Landon to do that. I had simply been … neglected for a while. Although, he looked like the type of man who knew what he was doing, not an overly eager, bumbling idiot who didn’t know the difference between the clit and the labia.

“What are you doing?” Landon snapped when I failed to state my purpose for blocking his path.

“I, uh, just wanted to let you know, you can pull your truck around back. So you don’t have to keep making these trips,” I offered when he eyed me with that flat, inscrutable expression.

“It’s a little late for that. I’m almost done.”

“Oh,” I replied sheepishly. I probably should’ve said something sooner, but I wasn’t thinking. My face flamed as I realized my blunder. Stepping aside, I let him pass, unable to pull my gaze from the muscles in his back and shoulders bunching with the effort of carrying the heavy boards.

Once he had all his supplies, he set to work, beginning with prying up the partially rotted steps. It wasn’t long before Honey trudged across the yard from her grandma’s back door, an oversized bag slung over her shoulder and a pitcher in her hand. I waved her over as I unfolded a second chair and positioned it next to mine.

“Hey, Livy,” she greeted, pulling me into a hug. “How’s it—” she began, but then jumped at the sound of a power tool whirring to life. “What on earth?” she asked, her head snapping in the direction where Landon was securing a new step to the riser. Her mouth fell open, and she lifted her sunglasses to get a better view. “My, my, my, I didn’t realize we were getting a show today.” I giggled and swatted her arm.

“Honey,” I scolded playfully.

“A girl can look. Don’t you see how hot your little handyman is?” Heat spread over my cheeks, and I ducked my head.

“I can’t… He’s not—” I began but couldn’t find the right words. Landon finally rose from where he was crouched, drill in hand, and turned to face us.

“Oh,” Honey gasped. “I see.” The corner of his mouth twitched, but he showed no reaction to finding us staring at him. My cheeks flamed even hotter. “This is an interesting turn of events. Spill,” she demanded, plopping onto her chair.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I replied, sounding guilty even to myself. Just because I’d checked him out at least half a dozen times didn’t mean anything. He was an outwardly attractive man. My libido didn’t know he was a grumpy bastard who probably wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire. I ignored the pain that flared behind my ribs at that thought. I tried to pretend like it didn’t bother me, but it stung. Knowing what he thought of me, how he blamed me for something that wasn’t my fault, was like a knife to the gut. But telling him the truth would hurt him. Relieving my pain wasn’t worth causing him more.

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