Page 27 of Only for the Season
“I can take direction.”
“Seriously?” Her eyes widen. “A man who can take direction? Are you certain you’re not a merman?”
“What the hell is a merman?” I tease. I know what a merman is, but I love to watch Parker get all worked up. The woman is serious about her sea lore.
She huffs. “Don’t let anyone else on Smuggler’s Hideaway find out you have no idea what the male equivalent of a mermaid is.”
“I have legs and not the tail of a fish. Pretty sure I’m not a merman.” I kick out a leg before circling it around. “See. All legs.”
Her eyes flare as she stares at me. Little Miss Prickly is interested. She doesn’t want to be, but she is.
She clears her throat. “You can hold the walls while I pipe the icing to glue the pieces together.” She whirls aroundand gathers several wall pieces before placing them on the thick cardboard tray decorated with holiday-themed paper.
“Hold these two together.” She arranges two walls at an angle. My fingers brush hers as I take over for her and a jolt of electricity hits me. Judging by how Parker jumped away from me, she felt it as well. Interesting.
She grabs the piping bag and leans over to glue the sides together. Her shirt gapes open and I catch a glimpse of her breasts fighting to be contained by her bra.
My fingers itch to touch her. To explore her skin. Will a jolt of electricity hit me if I did?
“Hold still,” she growls and I realize my hands are actually shaking.
“My hands are cramping,” I lie, since I’m not telling this woman who hates me how I can’t stop thinking about touching her. Her cake knife is way too close for that conversation to happen.
“It’s been a whole thirty seconds. Don’t be a wimp.”
“I’ll have you know I work out every day.”
“In which case, you should have better stamina.”
“I have stamina,” I grumble.
I’m not referring to working out. Judging by the blush spreading over her cheeks, she knows exactly what I’m referring to. My cock twitches. Again. It seems to do a lot of twitching whenever Parker is around. Especially considering how much the woman hates me.
“This side is done,” she finally says in a breathy voice, which is doing nothing to help my cock calm down. “Grab the wall there.” She nods toward another piece of the gingerbread house.
We work together in silence for the next twenty minutes to assemble the rest of the walls and roof panels.
“There.” She drops the piping bag on the table.
“We’re finished?”
She chortles. “Finished? Not hardly. It needs to set for an hour before I can add the windows, doors, and other decorations.”
“Coffee?”
“Don’t you need to get back to work?”
I do, but I wasn’t getting anything accomplished anyway. “Nah. I have time.”
We settle at a table in the corner of the café with our drinks. Parker closes her eyes and moans as she sips on her coffee. I notice she has bruises beneath her eyes, and her face is pale. She’s exhausted.
“You need rest.”
“Ha! What I need is to stop changing my mind about the design of the gingerbread house.”
“Is changing your mind why you’re on a time crunch?”
“I kept second-guessing everything. I had a whole plan and then decided I hated it halfway through.”
