Page 57 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
I’m distracted from his biceps by a droplet of sweat rolling down the side of his face. He stops and, without so much as a warning, whips off his T-shirt.
“Um…” My pizza slice droops forgotten in my hand.
“Hot in here.” He gets right back to work, now shirtless.
“Oh… sorry…” My gaze flicks toward the thermostat. I am deeplynotsorry. “Do you want me to crank up the AC?”
“Nah, this is fine.” He shakes his sweaty hair back from his forehead.
“Okay.” I bite off another piece of cheesy goodness, wondering if I’m in a dream. A yummy, yummy dream.
“Want some help?” I offer after a few minutes.
Daniel glances at me, lounging on the floor and reaching for my second slice. He shakes his head, laughing.
“Good. I need to regain my strength, anyway.”
“You did a lot,” he says, kneeling down to scrape up some staples from the subfloor. “Did I mention that I’m impressed?”
“You did. I mean, I’m impressed too. I’ve never done anything remotely like home renovations before.”
“If you get really into it, I might be able to offer you a job.” He sweeps the staples into a garbage bag. “Picture it: McKinnon and Rosen, partners in home management.”
I guffaw. “I better stick to my own home for now. You know, for liability reasons.”
I wipe my hands on a paper napkin and sit back against the wall, sighing contentedly.
“Feel better?” he asks.
I nod. “Have some pizza before it gets cold.”
“Yeah, let me just finish this up.” He grunts and pulls out the final piece of the carpet pad, then rolls it up. He reaches for the pry bar, but I stop him.
“I’ll do the staples. You eat.”
“Thanks.” He wipes his hands on his shorts and takes my spot on the floor, tearing off half a slice of pizza in one bite.
I dig out the staples, fighting the urge to curse under my breath.
“How did you make this look so easy?”
“I’ve done it before,” he says, his mouth full.
“Do you help all your clients like this?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Yes.” His voice is deadpan. I shoot him a suspicious look. “No, Mallory. Obviously I’ve been giving you special treatment. My gold-star level of service, if you will.”
“Why?” I pry at a bent staple that won’t budge. “Because you feel bad for that first night?”Making out with me before you knew I was a client?
“Bad?” Daniel pauses before selecting his next slice. “The opposite.”
“What?” I sit up on my knees, suddenly wishing we were using straightforward language instead of joking around. Because I’m confused.
“I don’t feel bad that we kissed, Mallory.”
I blush furiously. I guess that’s pretty straightforward.
“Would I have done it if I knew who you were?” he continues. “No. I do pride myself on being professional. But am I helping you out because I feel bad about all that? Also no.” He gives me a level look, as though he’s wondering if he needs to spell it out. “I enjoy hanging out with you.”
