Page 12 of Stick Work

Young life.

And there it is—a sharp reminder that she’s younger, and I’m too old for her. Not to mention the endless reasons why we shouldn’t even entertain the thought of… whatever this is.

“Is Grandma on your mom’s or dad’s side?” she asks, dropping onto the bed, and sitting cross-legged as her fingers absently twist loose thread on the blanket.

“Dad’s,” I say, moving toward my dresser.

“And Grandpa?”

“He passed away when I was little. Honestly, I barely remember him. Grandma’s been with us for as long as I can remember.” I shrug, my voice softer than I expected.

She nods, her gaze dropping to the blanket for a moment. “I’m sorry about your grandpa. Mine both died before I could really know them too.”

There’s a pause. Her eyes flick back to me, curious now. “What?”

“You said your parents are old-fashioned.” She sits up straighter, tilting her head. “Are they going to drag me out of this room and insist I sleep somewhere else?”

I watch her closely, trying to figure out if that’s worry or a challenge in her tone. “Is that what you want?” The words are out before I can reel them back in, and my chest tightens. Why the hell did I ask that?

Her lips part, and she looks at me like I’ve just thrown her a curveball. “Well, I mean…” She tugs at the blanket again, avoiding my eyes. “My brother…and none of this is real.”

“Right, yeah, I know,” I shoot back quickly, rubbing the back of my neck.

She glances at me sideways, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Or… is your mom on the grandbaby hunt too?”

That catches me off guard, and I let out an honest-to-God snort. “Honestly? It’s possible.” I shake my head and the drawer creaks as I tug it open. “But if Grandma put you in here with me, no one’s going to question it. Trust me.”

She gets up, smoothing her hands over her tight yoga pants and paces to the window, peeking out at the pool with longing. “Why do I feel like she runs this whole place?”

I laugh, leaning a hip against the dresser. “Because she does. She’s a force of nature, no doubt about it.”

She turns back to me, one brow arched. “So, I’m definitely staying in this room with you?”

“Yeah,” I say with a smirk. “Get yourself comfortable. Grandma has a way of getting what she wants.” I gesture toward the open drawer as she leans against the window, her movements teasing my damn dick. “You can put your things in here.”

Oh, and where would you like to put your things? Or rather…one thing.

Fuck off.

She steps closer, her hesitation fading as she sets her bag down on the floor. “It’s too bad that we’re going to disappoint her.”

“Yeah,” is all I say.

Needing something to do with my hands, I grab her bag and carry it to the bed, dropping it onto the mattress like it’s suddenly filled with lead.

“Thanks,” she says, flashing me a quick smile before unzipping it. She starts sorting her clothes into neat piles, and I try not to notice how natural she looks doing something so domestic in my space. I guess it’s a good thing she was kidding when she suggested she could be my roomie when I move out of her brother’s place. It all just feels too normal, too right.

Then, like a laser-guided missile, my eyes zero in on a pair of pink lace panties.

Jesus Christ.

I whip my gaze away like I’ve been caught staring at the sun, feeling my ears heat. It’s not like I haven’t seen her underwear before. Hell, I’ve done her laundry more times than I can count. But somehow, here, in this space, on my bed… it feels different.

Intimate.

She runs to the bathroom to drop off a cosmetic bag, and I busy myself with my own clothes, sorting them with shaky hands because I need something to do. Normally I’d dump my clean laundry into an empty drawer and work from that. But now I’m exaggerating every move.

“So,” I begin, my voice strained when she comes back, “How about that swim?”

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