Page 46 of Hammered (Dad Bod Contracting 1)
I spend the rest of the day cleaning house, mowing the backyard, and weeding the beds.
Once I’m done with my chores, I decide to sun myself a little in the backyard and do some reading, so I fix myself a little drink—some red wine mixed with soda water—and stretch out on my lounge chair. I’m only out there a few minutes when I figure, what the hell, may as well get some real sun. So I wiggle out of my shorts and peel my tank off, and enjoy some naked rays—with proper sunblock, of course, because skin cancer would suck, and so do sunburns. I flip to my stomach after an hour or two, and then, simply because I’m so relaxed, I end up falling asleep.
I’m startled awake by the sound of my front door opening, and Jesse’s voice calling a hello.
I wriggle back into my shorts and tank top in record time, and I’m still tugging the shirt down when he appears in my kitchen, carrying a huge sink in his arms. He glances through the window and sees me, catching me just as I finish rolling the tank down over my breasts, and his eyes go wide. He sets the sink down and sidles outside. I remain on the lounge chair, trying to stay calm.
“Hey, you,” he says, grinning. “Did I interrupt something?”
I don’t know how to respond. “I…um. No. I was just…sunbathing.”
His smirk is knowing. “Making use of that privacy fence, huh?”
I stand up and meet his gaze. “Yes, Jesse, I was sunbathing in the nude. I actually fell asleep, so you startled me.”
“I did knock like, twenty times,” he says. “And you know, next time you don’t have to be quite so quick to get dressed.”
I roll my eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He nods, not a trace of humor on his face. “Sure as hell would. Those stupid pink heart stickers are driving me crazy.”
I laugh. “I wasn’t quite daring enough to do it without them.”
“I get it. But I’m going crazy not knowing what’s beneath them.”
I snort. “Nipples, Jesse. Just nipples. Seen one pair, you’ve seen them all.”
“I know that, intellectually.” He steps a little closer, and the items in question tighten, harden—a fact his gaze doesn’t miss. “That doesn’t change the fact that I desperately want to see yours.” His smirk shifts into a full-on smolder. “Or better yet, taste them.”
I clench my thighs together and fight the urge to moan. “Taste…them?”
He nods, his voice dropping to a whisper so low and intimate I have to strain to hear him, have to lean into him. “Taste them. Lick them all over. Kiss them, rub them against my face, devour them until you’re begging me to stop.”
“That’s stupid,” I breathe.
“Which part?”
“The part where you think I’d beg you to stop.” I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. “I’d beg, but not for you to stop.”
“You change your mind about me, then?”
“It was never about that, Jesse. Not entirely, at least.”
He’s staring down at me, his eyes firmly on mine rather than the generous view he certainly would have down my shirt, from that angle. “Last time we saw each other, you shut things down pretty firmly. Now you’re singing the opposite tune.”
“Yeah, I’ve been kind of back and forth about things.” I’m not going to apologize for it, and I don’t.
He just lets the silence between us breathe for a moment, and then backs away. “Want to see your new sink?”
“Yes, please.”
He heads into the kitchen, and I gasp at the sink he’s brought. It’s huge, two deep tubs, made of spotless porcelain. On the floor next to it was a box with a photograph of an antique-style double-knob, high-arch faucet.
I crouch and stroke the porcelain. “It’s lovely, Jesse. Absolutely perfect. Exactly what I’ve always pictured.” I glance up at my current sink, which is significantly smaller than this one. “But will it fit?”
“What did I tell you about my skill at fitting big things into small spaces?” he says with a lopsided grin.
I blush. “Jesse!”
He just laughs and whips out a tape measure, lays it across the sink lengthwise and widthwise, and then the space between the lower cabinets. “Like the windows, it’ll just fit. You’ll lose a few inches of counter space on either side, though.”
“For a sink like this, I’ll happily trade the counter space.”
He slaps the counter. “Well, I’ll get started. Shouldn’t be too labor intensive.”
“I’m gonna get some dinner going,” I say, heart in my throat. “Um. Do you…want to stay? Have dinner with me?”
“You know I do.” He wiggles his phone out. “And we’re in luck—James is up at his hunting cabin in Wisconsin, so there won’t be any emergencies from el jefe.”
“Good, because it seems like every time we get a few minutes alone, your boss has an emergency.”
