Inappropriate - Vi Keeland Page 0,75
measured. He had on a pair of jeans, work boots, a T-shirt, and a ratty old toolbelt. And he looked ridiculously hot. I mean, I loved him in a well-fitted suit, and I loved him with a pair of board shorts on his boat, but this… This made me want to get sweaty and dirty.
“Keep looking at me like that, and nothing is going to get finished.”
His head had been down, and I hadn’t even been aware that he knew I was watching. I sipped water from a plastic bottle. “Pay attention to the saw in your hand. I wouldn’t want you to cut off anything important.”
Grant lifted the cut sheetrock upright, pulled the goggles from his head, and hung them on the end of one of the sawhorses. He carried it up the steps and stopped in front of me, in the tight space of the doorway, to plant a chaste kiss on my mouth. “Let’s get finished. Every time I pass the frame where the kitchen counter will be, all I can think about is how it’s the perfect height to fuck you.”
Despite my confusion about our future, I seriously had it bad for this man. One kiss and the mention of sex, and I could feel my nipples harden and a tingle between my legs. I had to clear my throat to not show how affected I was. “Better get back to work. Or I won’t pay you later.”
His eyes darkened. “Try not to pay me later, sweetheart.”
While Grant went back to the bathroom, I sat down on the steps of the porch. I wanted things to truly be as light and easy as they’d felt for the last few minutes. I’d avoided Grant since my discovery that he didn’t want children. I’d given a lot of thought to breaking things off with him. I already had strong feelings, and spending more time together would likely just make it worse when the time came. But that was logical, and the heart doesn’t do logic. So for now, for the short term anyway, I’d decided to stay in the moment.
I wasn’t ready to give up Grant, and I wasn’t ready to accept that I might not have a family someday. Basically, I’d decided avoidance was my current tactic. I also needed to understand why Grant was so adamant about not having children, and if there might be some compromise on that someday.
On that thought, I went back to the bathroom to be in the moment with my sexy construction worker. Grant was screwing in the drywall he’d cut.
“What can I do?” I asked from the doorway.
“If you’re good at measuring, you can take that tape measure over there and figure out the dimensions of the last piece we need to cut.”
I smiled. “I can do that.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “You’ve measured before, right?”
“Of course.” I actually hadn’t, unless you counted slipping the tailor’s measuring tape around my waist when I was on a kick to lose an inch. But how hard could it be?
After I measured and typed the dimensions into my phone, I waited for Grant to finish. He lifted his chin to the area that still needed drywall. “Want me to double check what you came up with?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Do you think I’m incompetent because I’m a woman?”
Grant raised his hands in surrender. “Nope. I’m sure you did fine. It’s just that we only have one piece of sheetrock left, so if we screw it up, we’ll have to make another run to the store.”
“I didn’t screw it up.” I really, really hope I didn’t anyway…
Back outside at the saw, I enjoyed the way Grant’s muscles bulged as he held the sheetrock in place. “How often do you work out?”
Grant looked up at me. “Five days a week. More if I’m frustrated and need to burn off some steam. Needless to say, it was seven days a week for a while there after I ran into you at that coffee shop.”
I tilted my head. “So now I don’t frustrate you?”
He smirked. “Didn’t say that. But now I have a much better way of working that frustration out—on you.”
He finished cutting, and I followed him to the bathroom to put up the last piece. Only when he raised the sheetrock to the wall, it was a few inches too small. My eyes bulged. “You cut that wrong.”
Grant’s brows shot up. “Me? Pretty sure it’s your measurement that’s off.”
I squinted.