Falling ass backward into success is a very particular skill set, thank you very much. The ability to make dildos when life gives you cucumbers really comes in handy. It’s all about finding the good in any situation, and there is some serious good in this disaster.
I finish placing the order, then wander over to the window so I can peek out and see if Griff is home from work yet. I don’t see any movement, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe he’s taking a shower before he comes over.
I bite my bottom lip and groan at the thought of him standing in the shower with his dick hard, reaching for his lube and remembering that I took it. I reach down to grind the heel of my hand over my hardening cock and sigh happily.Soon.
A knock at my front door makes me jump away from the window in surprise, yanking my hand off of my dick and grinning.
Let Bear Season begin.
Chapter 6
GRIFF
My back and shouldersare aching from the eight hours I already worked today, making major headway framing the second floor of the house so hopefully the guys can move on to plumbing and electrics in a week or so. I shift the length of pipe I have balanced on my shoulder and readjust my grip on my toolbox in my other hand. I haven’t done a ton of plumbing, but this shouldn’t be anything complicated. It’s just cutting and replacing the rusted-through pipe. The rest of the repairs to the ceiling, walls, and floor are all things I could do in my sleep.
The door swings open and the enthusiasm blasting from Ledger’s smile is almost a physical force, making me stagger back a step and avert my gaze. It’s like stepping out into a sunny day after you’ve been hiding in the dark with the blinds drawn tight for years. It’s too much to take all at once, but it makes something deep inside me ache a little, desperate for more.
“Is that a pipe in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Ledger waggles his eyebrows, and I frown, craning my neck to look at the length of pipe I’m holding.
“That’s my shoulder, not my pocket,” I say dryly.
“No shit. That joke really wouldn’t work though, since no one can put their dick over their shoulder.”
I snort and shift my weight, pointedly looking past him into the house.
“Oh, yeah, come on in.” He steps aside and holds the door open wide. “Teeps, no, shoo.” He makes a shooing motion that the raccoon ignores, choosing instead to scurry over and make herself a hazard by winding around my feet.
I try to step carefully to avoid her tail and end up stumbling.
“Shit,” I mutter, whirling as I find my footing and accidentally thrusting the back end of the pipe right into the wall. “Fuck, I’ll fix that.”
“It’s fine. You should see the holes this menace has chewed into the kitchen walls. Honestly, it’s probably good that this place is a fixer-upper, because I would weep openly if I’d bought a nice house just to have her eat through the drywall.” He chuckles and cards his fingers through his hair, his other hand stuffed into his pocket.
I drag my gaze over him slowly, realizing I haven’t really looked at him until now. I’ve seen him, obviously. I’ve glanced at and taken note of his biceps and his smile, but in more of an objective, detached way. This time I let my eyes linger for a few extra seconds on the outline of his nipples through his white tank top and the soft bulge in the well-worn denim of his jeans. I notice the light-colored stubble on his jaw and the plumpness of his lips as he runs his tongue along the bottom one to get it wet. That pit of hot, achy need in my gut ignites again and I swallow hard.
“Here, let me help you with that,” he says, yanking his hand out of his pocket and jumping forward to reach for my toolbox.
On instinct, I pull it back, immediately feeling like a dick when his face falls and he shoves both his hands back into his pockets this time.
“I got it.” I try to sound reassuring, but the words come out growly all the same.
Surprisingly, I swear I see a little flare of heat in Ledger’s eyes.
“No worries. I should know better than to touch a man’s tool without consent.” He smirks and tilts his head towards the living room. “Come on, I’m sure you’re itching to get started.”
I grunt in agreement and follow him. I didn’t think it was possible, but things look even worse than I remember. The parts of the ceiling that didn’t burst open are still bubbled and soggy, the floorboards are warped, creaking under our feet, and I don’t see any walls in this room that escaped at leastsomewater damage. I blow out a breath. This is going to be a fucking project.
My back gives another twinge of protest. I’m going to have to get really friendly with my heating pad for the next month or so while I get this done. I’m probably past the age where I can add an extra three or four hours of work to my day and make it through unscathed, but I’m committed now, so I’ll make it work.
I glance at Ledger again, taking in the view from this angle—the sturdiness of his shoulders and the delicious curve of his ass testing the limits of his jeans. At least I’ve got a damn good incentive to put myself through this.
“So, where do we start?” Ledger rubs his hands together and looks up at the ceiling.
“We?” I arch an eyebrow.
“What, you thought I was going to just stand around and enjoy the view while you get all grunty and sweaty from hard work? Actually, hold on, if that’s still an option…”
Laughter rumbles in my chest, making my throat ache a little from the years of disuse of those muscles. He’s direct andconfident and honestly funny as hell. I like that about him. It’s so much simpler than the games most people want to play, being coy and expecting you to guess what the fuck they’re thinking. He looks surprised by my laughter, and then a grin stretches across his face, even brighter than the smile he had on when he answered the door.