Page 25 of Hammered (Dad Bod Contracting 1)
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“Nah, it’s not that. I just get put into a particular box pretty frequently. And, for the most part, that is where I fit. It’s just…it’s not totally and only who I am as a person.” He laughs again. “Anyway, I’m gonna let you go. I wanna get this little project finished.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet—you haven’t seen what I’m doing!”
“Okay, okay, well…I’ll talk to you later, then?” I think of something. “Wait—did you guys get your emergency flood situation under control?”
H sighs deeply. “We worked until like four in the morning, but yeah, we did.”
“That’s good,” I say. “I’m glad you got it sorted it out.”
“Me too.” A pause. “Anyway, I’ll call Dr. Waverley and then call you. Have a nice day off.”
“I’ll try. You too. Bye.” I hang up, and my food arrives, and I lose myself in wondering what he could possibly be doing to my house.
After lunch—and cutting myself off at three margaritas, because it’s just too early to get sloppy—I decide to take myself to a movie. There’s a new romantic comedy out, and the theater is just down the road. I splurge on popcorn and a bottle of water, and enjoy some much-needed laughs.
Of course, the romantic element of the movie isn’t doing my overactive imagination any favors. On the way out of the theater, a ridiculous fantasy runs through my head. I have this vision of arriving at home and seeing Jesse in my living room, covered in sawdust, shirtless, sweaty, wearing nothing but a pair of tight jeans and a tool belt. He’d be ecstatic to see me, and he’d push me up against the fireplace and kiss me, and his big strong hands would go to the tie of my scrubs—
Down girl. Rawr. Seriously, I need to get this libido of mine under control. I haven’t been this worked up since…well, ever. Those first few months after I lost my virginity in high school, I was a horny little thing. And there were a few boyfriends between that first guy and Nicholas, who could get me going, but these last few years with Nicholas I was half-dead. Just switched off. Like he’d lost interest in me, and thus I stopped thinking about myself as a sexual creature, stopped thinking about my needs. He lost interest in me, and I lost interest in myself. And now, suddenly, I’m alive again. I’m remembering that I have wants and needs again.
And my sex drive is coming back.
I wasn’t a hookup or a fling sort of girl, but when I was dating a guy, I tended to be pretty uninhibited. Adventurous, even. Sitting in my car, I think back to those days. Specifically, a certain college sophomore named Lee. All-State soccer, ended up being valedictorian at graduation, med school student…surfer blond hair, freckles on his nose—and on his ass—with a charming smile and an easy confidence that I couldn’t resist. Lee also had a preternaturally powerful sex drive. The boy was insatiable in a way I’ve never known, before or since, and that was infectious. I don’t think I’ve ever been as wild, kinky, or voracious as I was with Lee.
And just being around Jesse is making me feel like I did when I was with Lee; like I’m a starved monster, a creature who simply cannot get enough. I want, want, WANT.
Gah. It’s infuriating.
Because back then, I was innocent, with an intact heart and a willingness to trust, a willingness to take chances.
Nowadays? My heart ain’t exactly intact, and neither is my ability or willingness to trust and take chances on a guy.
Let him into my house to fix it? Sure. I can change the locks, or even move, if it came to that—but it won’t, because I think Jesse really is a good guy, honest and trustworthy.
Doesn’t mean I’m willing to let anything happen, though, because I’m just…well…scared, I guess.
My phone rings—it’s Jesse. My heart leaps, and my cheeks heat.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, it’s Jesse.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I know. There’s this little thing called caller ID.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Better than being a dumbass, as my dad used to say,” I say, laughing.
“I’m not sure where that leaves me, then. My dad used to say I was the dumbest smart-ass he ever met.” I hear him take a drink of something, and then he’s back on the phone. “So, what’d you do with the last couple hours?”
“Ate lunch and saw a movie. I actually just got out of the movie.”
“Oh? What’d you see?”
“Just some romantic comedy. Nothing you’d like.”
“There you go making assumptions about me again, Imogen. What if I like romantic comedies…in a very straight, very manly sort of way?”
“Then you’d be a frickin’ unicorn among men.”
He does a very, very bad impression of a neighing horse, and I lose my shit, cackling until my ribs hurt.
