Page 27 of Lovingly Restored

I huff a laugh and pull out the other earplug. “It’s...Christmas-y. It reminds me of my fireplace at home during the holidays. Of my family.”

He’s staring at my lips while I talk. God, it would be too easy to let my eyes slip closed again. To pretend we aren’t a one-minute walk away from his grandmother’s house and let him kiss me. He would, right? If he doesn’t, I’d be the idiot standing here with her eyes closed and lips parted in fucking eye protection. I swerve around him to retrieve my cardigan, slipping it on and wrapping it around me even though I’m more than warm. I need another layer between us. Protection from Isaac, instead of protection from the elements.

“Aren’t you gonna help me cut a few more?”

“Uh, no.” I hold my hands up. “I’ve got to, um, check on my plants.”

He rolls his lips like he’s trying to not laugh.

“They’re finicky.”

His eyes crinkle. “Is that so?”

I nod. “Mmm hmm.”

I’m goddamn breathless, and all I’ve done is stand in one spot. My mind is running in circles, though. Images of me laid out on the workbench and Isaac stripping off his shirt flash in my mind. The gleam in his eyes holds similar secrets. I want him to stop looking at me like that…I think. I don’t understand what’s happening between us at all. My brain-to-mouth filter must be loose because the question I’ve been asking myself for weeks rolls off my lips and into the tension fraught air.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

I press my lips together a second too late and bite my tongue hard in retribution. I sound vulnerable and needy, like he owes me an explanation. His silence is torturous, lengthening between us. I’d give anything to have the noise of the table-saw back.

“The timing wasn’t right.” He becomes intrigued by a layer of sawdust on his clothing, brushing it off with annoyance.

What does that even mean? That he was with someone? Did he just go through a breakup and that’s why he moved in here?

“Are you seeing somebody?” I should have askedbeforeI offered my number.

He shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest protectively.

“Wereyou seeing someone when we met last month?”

His jaw ticks. “No. I wasn’t in the right place to start something serious.”

I almost laugh. This is the same guy who joked about not being sure if he had any kids. Who walks around the house like his full-time job is flirting.

“Who said anything about serious?”

He rakes a hand through his hair. The expression on his face tells me that’s not what he expected to hear. Honestly, it’s not what I expected to say. It popped out, my mouth filter is still loose.

“Is that what you’re into? Casual?” His tone lacks enthusiasm. I sense judgement. It makes me want to pry up a floorboard, crawl beneath it, and hope he nails it back down after me.

I backtrack. “I don’t usually, I mean…I thought we could get to know each other better?”

“Ashlyn, you can’t even do laundry casually. You almost broke out in hives when I ate an expired yogurt. You’re telling me that if I called you last month, a guy you met on the side of the road, that you’d have been content to, what, have a casual hook-up?”

I’ve never actually had a one-night stand before. That doesn’t mean Ican’t.

“Maybe.” I try to appear confident, standing as tall as possible. A futile effort in the presence of this man.

He’s scrutinizing me with his clear blue eyes again. “I don’t buy it,” he says, matter of fact.

My mouth pops open. Who made Isaac Lauri the expert on what type of relationships I am or am not capable of having? He doesn’t know my sexual history. For all he knows, I’m the fuckingQueenof casual. He busies himself around the workshop, ignoring me. I don’t know shit about carpentry, but even I can tell these are make-work tasks that he’s only using to distract himself from our conversation. A man that can’t handle talking about his feelings for five minutes. Shocking. It shouldn’t, but it hurts like I’m the latest victim of the table saw.

“Tell me how much I owe you for that tow.”

That gets his attention. His back is to me, but I hear him draw a deep breath through his nose as he bows his head. He lets the air out so slow I see his shoulders shake.

“That’scompletelyunnecessary,“ he says.

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