Page 21 of One Touch

KATE

It tookme a second to realize that the pounding in my brain was not from an afternoon of too much sun and physical labor. I blinked away the sleep and confusion as I sat up in bed. I glanced at the clock as the rhythmic pounding continued.

Five. Freaking. A.M.?!

I pulled myself from bed and stomped down the stairs and through the hallway. I yanked open the front door and stopped dead in my tracks. In the early morning light, Beckett was dressed in work boots, jeans, and a hunter-green T-shirt that stretched over his massive chest. Sweat already formed in a V down his back and clung to his muscles.

I swallowed hard. My nipples went rigid, and I sucked in a breath. “What are you doing? It’s five in the morning.”

Beckett didn’t even give me the satisfaction of a glance in my direction. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

I planted my hands on my hips. Itlookedlike Beckett was already underway, tearing apart the dilapidated porch despite the fact that it was supposed to be one of the last construction projects completed on the house.

I would know. I had a list.

“I thought the kitchen was next.”

Beckett glanced up at me, his eyes snagging for a fraction of a second too long on the front of my shirt. I crossed my arms to try to hide the fact that I hadn’t bothered with a bra yet.

“Plans change.” Beckett took the long handle of the tool, slipped it under a porch board, and pulled with a grunt. The wood split and released from the frame below it. He bent down and, with one hand, picked up the loosened board and tossed it onto a growing pile.

“Did this have anything to do with me tripping yesterday?”

His eyes flicked over me. “No. You bitched at me to get it fixed. I’m just following orders, Princess.” He pried free another board. “Besides, I can’t have my workers getting hurt on the job. The porch needed to be replaced.”

I looked down at the open floor joists, another term I’d learned since my Instagram page had gained in popularity and I’d scrambled to soak up as much as I could about home renovations.

“It’s five in the morning.”

“You mentioned that.” He let out a heavy, annoyed sigh. “I’m just getting it started so we aren’t behind on the rest of the projects.”

Another grunt. Another board pried free, and Beckett’s muscles worked as he tossed it aside.

I cannot sit around watching him grunt and sweat all day. But god, what would it be like for him to put those rough hands on me? To bicker only to have him shut me up with his kiss?

Still, I stood in the doorway, unable to look away. In a swift move, Beckett reached behind his collar and pulled off his shirt, leaving him in nothing but snug-fitting jeans, work boots, and a backward ball cap.

That’s it. I’m out.

Without another word, I turned and slammed the front door behind me. I absolutely couldnotallow those thoughts to run away from me.

After a few deep breaths in the safety of my room, I quickly got dressed for the day and checked my latest Instagram post. A happy little zip of excitement danced through me as I typed back as many replies to comments as I could.

Before bed, I had posted about the exterior paint color, asking the slew of new followers to weigh in and give their opinions. I’d also slipped in a line asking if we should get the Brutish Builder’s opinion—that choice was currently winning, obviously.

Insert heavy sigh and eye roll.

The actual truth was that as soon as Beckett had pointed out why the colors Tootie and I had originally chosen wouldn’t work, I’d hated them all. I hated the fact he was spot-on in his assessment even more.

Though he was short tempered, grumpy, and moody, Beckett Miller was frustratingly good at his job.

I dragged a brush through my hair and secured my loose waves with a fluffy silk hair tie. The summer sun had begun to deepen my natural olive coloring, so with a simple swipe of black mascara and some sunscreen, I was ready for the day.

I typed out a quick message to my friends Gemma and Sophie.

Me

It’s wrong to objectify a man, correct?

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