Page 6 of Stitch & Steel
He smirked. Barely. But it was there—like a shadow at the corner of his mouth, gone before I could blink. “Could’ve let it be,” he said. “But I figured if I’m sticking close, I might as well not have to look at that damn bumper every day.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re staying close now?”
His silence answered before he did. “For a while.”
The air between us thickened. Hot, heavy, syrup-slow. I could feel the sweat gathering at the nape of my neck, trickling down my spine. Whether it was the heat or him, I didn’t know. Probably both.
I turned and reached into the fridge for the pitcher, just to give my hands something to do. I wasn’t even thirsty.
“You always this nervous around guys who fix things for you?” he asked behind me.
I bristled—because I never had a guy fix anything for me. But I’d never admit that.
I grabbed a fresh lemon slice and dropped it into my glass like it had insulted me. “No,” I said, turning back. “Just the ones who look at me like they know what color underwear I’m wearing.”
His eyes flicked down, slow as molasses. Then back up. “Red.”
My heart stuttered. “You?—”
“Lucky guess,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.
I swallowed, the heat now boiling in places it shouldn’t be. My knees. My throat. Somewhere deep in my stomach.
He stepped closer. Not too close—but enough that I could smell the faint trace of motor oil and pine soap clinging to his skin.
“I can stop fixing things if it bothers you,” he said, voice low. “But I’m not gonna stop looking.”
The glass in my hand was slick with condensation. Or sweat. Maybe both.
I cleared my throat. “Well… I guess if you’re gonna lurk around like a biker-shaped shadow, I might as well put you to work.”
He lifted a brow. “Yeah?”
“There’s a loose screen door out back,” I said, aiming for casual but failing hard. “And the fan in Gram’s room clicks like a metronome in a padded cell.”
He didn’t smile. Just nodded once. “I’ll take a look.”
Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just short-circuited every nerve ending in my body with a couple of words and a glance.
I exhaled so hard I nearly bent double.
This man was dangerous.
And I was starting to wonder if Iwantedto be saved—or ruined.
He fixed the screen door like he was mending something sacred—meticulous, silent, almost reverent. Same with the leaky faucet in the back bathroom and the fan in Gram’s room, which had been clicking like it was counting down to doomsday.
By the time he was done, the cabin sounded… calm.
Too calm.
He wiped his hands on a rag, tossed it in the sink, and turned to me with that unreadable expression I was starting to realize meant trouble. The kind you didn’t see coming until it was already breathing down your neck, whispering sweet, wicked things.
“I’ll be back,” he said, voice low and certain. Like a promise.
I crossed my arms, trying to hold my composure—and failing.
He moved toward the door, then paused, one boot lingering on the threshold. “Don’t get complacent up here, Bella.”
