Page 26 of Beach Cottage Kisses
He was in jeans and a black T-shirt. All long legs topped with solid muscle…
“You need something?” she asked, turning back around so quickly she dislodged a creamer and would have broken it if she hadn’t shoved forward against the cupboard, effectively catching the vintage glass against her chest.
Of course he wasn’t in the dress pants, or beach shorts in which she normally saw him, Iris berated herself, praying he hadn’t seen her giveaway gaffe.
“A beer.” Scott’s response sounded a tad bit desperate.
Praying it was only her ears making up the nuance. Packing wasn’t his thing. And though Sage had moved out, there was a somewhat daunting amount of stuff left behind.
They had a long night ahead of them.
“There’s some at my place if you want to make a run for it,” she said into the cupboard. No more turning around. She’d learned her lesson.
Scott in jeans was a rare enough sight that she’d do well to avoid a second encounter for the moment.
“There’s some right here.” His voice came from just behind her right as she heard the refrigerator open. “I stocked it this afternoon. Help yourself when you’re ready.”
Right. She would. Gladly. As soon as he’d disappeared back to the other side of the cottage.
And left her to prepare herself for the next view of him. One in which she knew what was coming and therefore wouldn’t feel as though shock had done her dirty, leaving her dripping with unwanted desire for a man she didn’t ever want to touch.
* * *
Scott left Sage’s bedroom for Iris to handle. He tackled his sister’s office and Leigh’s room instead. He had movers scheduled for the next day. Everything going into storage, including what furniture was left in the place—Sage’s bed and dresser, a couch and the kitchen table and chairs—had to be ready to go.
Bathroom stuff he could handle himself later, if they didn’t get to it.
Same for the laundry area cupboards.
Sage had figured she’d have time to pack up the place after she got back. To go through things. But she’d already taken out much of the stuff that meant the most to her.
Scott found some photos, though. On the bottom of her file drawer,underneath the hanging files. Mostly of her and Scott, taken at various times through their early years, all when their mother was alive.
Back when failure had been a natural part of the learning process. Not a sin.
So what was his latent, persistent and momentarily intense attraction to his good friend there to teach him?
Not to fail. He answered the mental question with an immediate and strongly felt response. Put the photos in a manila envelope to take home until he could personally hand them to Sage, and moved on with the job at hand.
Rejecting thoughts right and left as he went.
Those hips.
Stop. File folders in file folder boxes. He might need more boxes. Started stacking folders along the wall so the cabinet in which they were held could be moved.
They smelled musty.
Iris smelled like lilacs, fresh sea air and…Stop.
The hour went on. His packing progressed. The mental workout continued.
And the office was done.
Passing Sage’s door on his way to Leigh’s room, Scott caught a glimpse of movement in his sister’s bedroom. Thought Iris was still in the kitchen.
Figuring the shadow was from one of the dogs, he glanced in.
To see his platonic friend standing in her leggings and long-sleeved tee, with a cloth bag in one hand and what could only be described as a still-packaged sex toy in her hand. No other way to see that one.
