Page 20 of Handy

“That’s okay. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anyway.” I rumble an almost-laugh and we head back out to pick up lunch like we originally planned.

If Lewis had told me who my secret admirer is, what would I have done with that information anyway? It’s better to leaveit alone. Whoever it is will probably get bored and stop sending presents eventually anyway.

An unexpected smile twitches my lips as we ride back to the worksite though. Itiskind of nice knowing someone is thinking about me. Whoever they are.

LEDGER

I’m just finishing up giving myself an impromptu haircut when I hear Griff knock on the door.

“I’m coming,” I shout, snipping one last strand before hustling down the hallway to the front door, shirtless, with a towel draped over my shoulders, still holding the pair of scissors in one hand.

I swing the door open and try not to audibly whimper at the sight of my big bear standing there with a sledgehammer over his shoulder. I bet he looksgooooodswinging that thing around. I imagine the way his biceps must bulge and the grunt he probably puts behind the force of his swing. New kink unlocked.

“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out huskier than intended.

Griff’s eyes darken just a shade, and he grunts a greeting.

“Sorry, I lost track of time. I was just giving myself a quick trim.” I laugh and whip the towel off my shoulders.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t preen at the way his gaze lingers on my bare chest for a few extra seconds. I wave him in, and he steps inside. Instead of moving back to give him space though, I stay planted, eager to feel the heat of his body brushing past me. The quiet, restrained rumble he tries to swallow is all the assurance I need that he’s still eager for all the touch he can get, he just doesn’t know how to ask for it.

I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. He sighs and his eyelids flutter closed as he tilts his head slightly into my hand.

“You’re looking a little shaggy. You want me to take care of that for you while I’m in the zone?” I give his scalp a little scritch and a satisfied sound vibrates in his chest.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, then his eyes snap open like he didn’t expect to say that out loud.

I grin and give his hair one more slow stroke before untangling my fingers from it and draping my towel over his shoulder that isn’t supporting a sledgehammer.

“Come set that down first.” We detour through the living room. I managed to get a dumpster delivered this morning, so the chunks of ceiling are no longer piled up, leaving plenty of space for us to start tearing the drywall apart tonight.

He leans the sledgehammer against the couch as he follows me into the bathroom.

“Shirt off so I don’t get it all covered in hair,” I instruct, reaching into my shower to detach the shower head. “Then sit down next to the tub so I can get your hair wet first.”

He makes a noise in his throat then does what I asked. I try not to appear overeager as he strips his shirt off and hangs it from the hook on the back of my bathroom door. I really didn’t plan this as a creative way to put my hands on him again, but honestly, it’s an unintentionally genius move on my part. The only comfortable way for me to make this work is to crawl onto Griff’s lap and straddle him once he’s seated next to the tub.

His forehead scrunches and his lips twitch, his eyes boring into me as I get into place.

“Let me guess, this is how they give professional haircuts?” he rumbles, his mouth quirking momentarily into a smile that’s gone too fast.

“Only if you tip extra,” I say solemnly, and his lips quiver again. “Now, just tilt your head back and relax,” I say in a soothing voice.

Griff lets out a long breath that kind of reminds me of the one a horse does right before it relaxes to let you tighten the saddle. His shoulders sag a little and he holds his hands up awkwardly for a second, like he can’t quite figure out what to do with them, before he settles for resting them on my thighs. Then, he leans his head back and closes his eyes. It’s somehow both sweet and a little hilarious to watch him go through such a long process to just relax.

I lean over him, our bare chests pressing against each other, my rapidly hardening cock against his belly. Like always, I can smell sawdust and sweat on his skin, and something kind of woodsy underneath. I want to bury my nose in his throat and just inhale. I want to lick him all over and make him gasp. I have to reach a little farther to be able to turn the water on, and then I settle my weight on his lap, feeling his answering stiffness against the inside of my thigh.

“How was work today?” I ask in that same soothing voice, testing the water to make sure it’s warm enough, then aiming it at his hair. I card my fingers through it again, nice and slow, massaging his scalp.

He grunts, and for a second, I figure he’s not going to answer. That’s okay, fuck knows I can talk enough for the two of us if I have to. But then his lips part and the tension in his face smooths out.

“Finished framing the house today, so that’s something,” he says. I hum in response and keep running my fingers through his hair even though it’s plenty damp for a haircut. “And Stone—he’s one of my bosses—dragged me to the flower shop during lunch to try to find out who sent me those flowers.”

I still, my heart pounding. Can he feel it against his chest? I don’t mind if he finds out I’m his secret admirer—it’s not like I’m exactly playing coy about my interest in him. But what if it’s too soon and it freaks him out?

“Sorry. That’s weird, right?” he says, misinterpreting my lack of response. He opens his eyes and frowns at me. “We’re… hooking up or, you know, whatever it is…” He stumbles over his words, and I flatten my lips, trying not to laugh.

I flex my hips a little so he can feel the drag of my erection against his belly again. He makes another gravelly sound in his chest and his fingers tighten on my thighs.

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