he swallows, then answer his question. “We’re closed on Sundays. We used to be open, but most of our clients go to church, so it’s more cost efficient to close down the shop.”
“If you’re not busy, you wanna help me paint my kitchen Sunday?”
Normally I’d think we don’t know each other well enough for me to help him with something like that, but we did have a meal together, and I do find it easy to be around him. “I’m not very good at anything handy, so I don’t know how helpful I’d be.”
His eyes wander over me. “I’m sure I’ll find some way to use you.”
My nipples tingle, along with the area between my legs. His crass comment shouldn’t turn me on, but it does.
“So what do you say?”
“Sure,” I agree, and he smiles, taking another drink from his beer.
“So who’s the guy in the BMW?”
How did I know this was coming? “Just a guy.”
“You got dressed up to go out to dinner with him,” he points out.
“He was taking me to a nice restaurant. I wasn’t going to wear jeans and combat boots.” I sip my wine, then give him what he’s obviously searching for. “His name is Charles; we dated for a couple years when we were in high school. He’s a lawyer. I normally wouldn’t have agreed to dinner with him, but he asked me out in front of my mom, and my mom thinks he’s a catch, so I agreed to a date. I went, I found out what I already knew—I’m not interested at all—and I won’t be seeing him again.”
“Good.” He takes another pull from his beer.
“I won’t be seeing him again because I don’t want to, not because you don’t want me to.”
“Whatever. As long as you’re not seeing him again, I don’t give a fuck what your reasons are.”
“Remember when I said I’d kick you out if you aggravated me?”
He smirks, and I swear there’s something about that confident look that makes me want to throw myself against him and pull his mouth down to mine. My heart speeds up, and my stomach actually tugs in his direction, like it’s trying to get me to move toward him. I don’t do it, but I swear, from the look he gives me, he knows I want to.
Crap.
Suggestion 4
TELL HIM THE TRUTH
LEAH
With my feet aching, I get out of my car and head into my house while the garage door closes behind me. Once inside, I kick off my heels near the door to the garage and wander barefoot down the hall toward my bedroom.
Saturdays at the salon are no joke. I was busy from the moment I opened the doors at eight until my last client left at seven. All I want to do is put on some comfortable clothes, find something to eat, and sit on my couch with my feet up. When I reach my bedroom, I strip out of my top and jeans and put on a pair of leggings and one of my old baggy T-shirts.
I go to the kitchen and flip on the light, and Mouse, who’s on top of the upper cabinets, meows at me. “I know; I’m getting your dinner first.” I grab a pack of his wet cat food and dump it in his bowl, then go in search of something to make for myself. Hearing an odd scraping sound coming from the front room, I head in that direction, and the scraping sound stops. I really hope I don’t have mice. I swear I will lose it if I do. The noise comes back, and I realize it’s coming from the front door. I unhook the lock, pull it open, and smile when I see Bruce.
“Hey, big guy.” I rub the top of his head and scratch behind his ears. I let him inside and go in search of my phone so I can let Tyler know I have his dog. Last evening, Tyler stayed until he finished his beer, and while he was here, Bruce and Mouse seemed to get along. There were a couple of times when Mouse went out of his way to try to annoy him, but Bruce ignored him for the most part. Okay, he chased him through the house when he was done being pestered, but he didn’t bite him. Then again, he didn’t catch him either.
I finally find my phone and send Tyler a text before I go back to the kitchen with Bruce on my