Page 31 of Where You Belong

I don’t expect Corbin to come inside, but if he does, I don’t want the house to look a mess.

A few minutes later, I hear his pickup pull up outside, and the nervous flutter I get in my stomach when he’s around returns.

“You smile a lot when you see Corbin,” Huxton says, staring at me. He still has a pile of Lego blocks on the floor in front of him, doing more playing than cleaning up.

“You better get back to work, or Corbin’s going to wonder where his partner in crime is.”

He sighs, scooping a handful and tossing it into the little Rubbermaid tote.

Corbin wears a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and a pair of denim jeans. I can’t imagine why he’d want to wear jeans in the heat of summer, but damn, does he look good in them. He pulled on a baseball cap since he left the store. He’s going to make it hard to focus on anything but him.

His arms flex when he reaches for the handle of the tailgate, lowering it before jumping onto the truck bed to grab a few tools.

“I’m going to go see if Corbin needs any help. Once you’re finished, put your sneakers on, and you can join us.”

I slip outside, letting the screen door slam shut behind me, announcing my presence. Corbin looks up, twisting his baseball cap around backward, giving him a better view of me.

“You need any help?”

“I think I got it, but I wouldn’t mind the company.”

I smile and nod. The combination of his backward cap and the outline of his muscles flexing, covered in his tattoo sleeve, has me practically salivating at the mouth. Sweat dots his brow, and I nearly choke when he lifts his shirt to wipe his face, showing off his stomach.

Corbin was stocky and built like a linebacker. He didn’t have those chiseled abs you’d see on the front cover of Sports Illustrated. He had meat on his bones, and man, did he have me wanting a taste.

He wouldn’t have a problem lifting me in his arms and carrying me right into the house.

The sound of his throat clearing, peering up at me from under his dark lashes, earns me a devious grin.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks, just as Huxton comes barreling out the front door.

“Hey, buddy.” He quickly changes the subject, his gaze still lingering on me. “Want to give me a hand? I could use one.”

Huxton kneels on the ground next to him, tilting his head down to look beneath the mower while Corbin gets to work. I smile warmly at the sight of them.

Corbin may have it all down in the looks department, but watching him with my son, seeing how patient he is while talking through each step, may be the most attractive side of him I’ve seen yet.

Chapter Twelve

Corbin

It didn’t take long for me to figure out what was wrong with the mower. It turns out it wasn’t the carburetor; it just needed an alignment, which isn’t too difficult to fix. Once we got the mower running, I encouraged Haelynn to tackle whatever else she had on her to-do list for the day. She hesitated, insisting she could take it from here.

When I insisted I wasn’t leaving until I took care of it, she shook her head and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. Nothing serious. It was no different than if Madelyn were to stop over and help her with something around the house.

When she pulled back, the blush that tinted her rosy cheeks had me wishing I could pull her back for more.

She invited me to stick around for dinner as a thank-you. I ran home to get cleaned up and met them back to eat. We decided to eat out on the patio, enjoying one of the last few warm summer nights. Fall is around the corner, and soon, the leaves will change, and the evening temperatures will turn brisk.

I remain in the kitchen while Haelynn tucks Huxton in for bed. She apologized when she added it would be a few extra minutes while she read to him. I didn’t want to take her time away from him, but I also didn’t want to miss out on the chance to get her alone.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the night of the bonfire. The way her body came alive when I touched her. I crave all the subtle ways her body reacts to me.

She’s my addiction, and I never want to let her go.

I understand it hasn’t been long since she separated from Atlas. The last thing I want is to push her too hard and ruin what we have forming between us, but I also want her to know I’m not going anywhere. If I have to take things slow and move at her pace, I will.

I recognize the quiet sound of a door clicking shut and her soft footsteps padding down the hallway. The sun has begun to disappear beneath the clouds. The sliding glass door leading out to the patio is left open, leaving only the chirping of the locusts in the distance.

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