Page 43 of Blue Collar Hotties

My stomach lurches as I leave the sparkling kitchen, and I’m not sure if it’s nerves about meeting Lincoln or the memory of that stupid ice cream.

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Lincoln is gorgeous. Fuck my life. I stare at the man unloading his bags from the trunk of a cab onto the sidewalk, my face frozen in a mask of dismay. Thick, dark hair shifts in the breezeand hangs over his forehead; keen gray eyes flick to me then away as he goes to pay the cab driver.

A black t-shirt hugs his strong chest and toned shoulders, the dye faded from wear and multiple washes. Vivid tattoos spill out from his sleeves, wrapping around his muscled arms, and reach all the way down to his wrists.

A camera bag is slung around his neck, and his worn jeans hug his ass. His brown leather boots are those no-nonsense type, the sort that could grind me under his heel.

The cab pulls away, and Lincoln turns to face me. Oh, boy. Here we go.

I clear my throat and make sure my tongue is in my mouth.

“Hi.” I know from our brief text exchange that Lincoln just got back from a work trip to the Sahara, but from my hoarse voice,Isound like the one with the terrible thirst. I raise a hand, my fingertips still puckered from three hours in rubber gloves. Gross. “I’m Jenny.”

“Good to meet you, Jenny.”

Yikes, his voice is deep. There’s a roughness to it, too, like the growl of a motor engine, but Lincoln’s mouth quirks up as he shoulders his bags and scoops a large box off the sidewalk. He walks closer, holding it up like he’s presenting an offering, gray eyes sparkling with humor.

Even when he’s smiling, his eyebrows are pinched in a slight frown.

“This is for you.”

The breeze cools my cheeks as I crane my head, reading the words on the side. Cars rumble past in the street. “It’s a microwave.”

“So it is.”

A brand new,heavymicrowave in a bulky box, balanced on the palm of his hand, no less. I reach for it, ready to carry it upthe stairs since he’s already laden with bags, but Lincoln holds it over my head as if it weighs nothing. Damn.

I gnaw on my lip, watching his bicep bulge, and god, what is wrong with me? It’s like I’ve never seen a grown man before.

“Nope, I got it. Lead the way, Jenny.”

Right. I spin on my heel, cheeks flushing, and jog up the steps to my—toourbuilding. The front door is open, and Lincoln’s steps are deceptively quiet as he follows me across the empty lobby. Like he’s in stealth mode. Feeling his eyes on my back, I kinda wish I dressed in something nicer than jeans and a thin cream sweater today.

“The elevator doesn’t work.” I throw the words over my shoulder, eyes skating over my new roommate then away. He’s too much to look at. Talk about overwhelm. “Sorry. But I can help with your bags—”

“I’ve got it.”

Our shoes smack against the stairs, and my breaths come embarrassingly fast. Am I unfit, or am I just panting over my gorgeous new roommate?

Hard to tell.

But he’s somuch.His presence fills the narrow stairway; even without looking back at him, I’m hyper aware of his every movement. The rustle of his clothes and the deep, steady pull of his breaths; the masculine scent that fills my nose with each inhale.

Lincoln’snot gasping for air. He might as well be strolling empty-handed down a sidewalk.

“This is us.” I fumble with the key, my grip sweaty and numb, but he says nothing. Just waits behind me, piled high with bags. “I, um. The apartment isn’t much.” The door swings open, and I lead my new roommate inside, nerves gnawing at my ribs. “You’ll see now why it’s so cheap.”

Lincoln’s rough chuckle makes my belly tighten as he trails me through the cramped living room. “Relax, Jenny. It’s just a place to crash.”

No it’s not. Not to me.

See,out thereeverything is too loud and brash and bright and overwhelming. Danger lurks on every corner, and people are so freaking mean.The world outside that apartment door is a gauntlet to be run, but in here…

It’s quiet. Safe.Mine.

Mine, and now Lincoln’s. Part of me wants to double check that he read all the requirements on my listing—that he won’t throw parties or smoke or whatever—but I know that’s crazy. What am I gonna do, throw him out when he’s already here? And besides, he brought the microwave. He clearly read the ad.

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