He lies back on the bed, arms outstretched. “The garage was a mess but it’s looking pretty good now. I’m exhausted.”
My gaze darts from my toes to him. The edge of his tattoo peeks out from under the sleeve of his grey tee. As he rakes a hand through his unruly locks, his shirt rides up.
Mmmm…
“Tomorrow, we should go look for vanities. I was thinking maybe a double vanity or two single ones,” he says. “It all depends on what we find, I guess.”
He obviously has no clue what effect he has on me. What naughty thoughts I’m having.
I twist the cap of my nail polish closed, and tuck my supplies back in my toiletry bag. Suddenly it’s a little hot in my room.
I peel off my robe and stretch my legs. He doesn’t even notice! He stares at the dimmed light fixture on the ceiling, looking…well, utterly exhausted.
“You and Claire were having quite the little chat,” I point out.
He turns to look at me and does a double take. Now he notices. He smiles. “Yeah, we were playing this little game we like to play. She calls it ‘What do you care more about?’”
I smile. I’m surprised I’ve never heard of this game. “How does it go?”
His gaze sweeps over me and then travels across the room. He scratches his chin. “Well, what do you care more about?” he says as he takes in the bedroom. “Uh, that blue vase there,” he says, “or the table lamp?”
I smile. “Well, the blue vase I just picked up at a garage sale. But the lamp is from my aunt Rachel. And I think it’s worth something, so the lamp.”
He smiles at me. His smile stretches a bit lower on the one side, revealing crooked bottom teeth, but somehow his smile still manages to be one of the sexiest I’ve ever seen.
“Okay,” he says, leaning up on an elbow. “So what do you care more about?” he asks again. “The lamp…or,” he trails off, his eyes sweeping over the space, “ the TV?”
I laugh. “Well, that’s easy,” I say, looking at the fifty inch flat screen we just bought last year. “Definitely the TV. Screw Aunt Rachel.”
He laughs. “Okay, I have a tough one for you,” he says, and all of a sudden, he seems closer. I can smell the sweat on him. “What do you care more about? The TV or the dresser?”
“Oh damn,” I say, my mind at work. “This game is getting tougher.” He knows I bought this dresser a few years back at an antiques auction for a pretty penny. It’s one of the very few pieces of furniture in the house that doesn’t come from Keates Furnishings.
“Damn, Gabe, you know I can’t give up my TV. The TV, I guess,” I say reluctantly.
He trails his finger along my freshly lotioned foot. It feels so nice. My feet have never been an erogenous zone, but my body is pretty desperate for his touch. It clings to anything it can get.
“So, it seems like the TV is very loved,” he teases. “But what do you care more about? The TV or your bed?” His hand trails to the back of my calf. I really don’t know if he’s doing this absent-mindedly or with intention.
I bite my lip. “Well, I need something to sleep on, but I can probably buy one of those blow-up mattresses for two hundred bucks, so I’d have to say the TV.”
“Oh wow,” he says, blowing out a breath. “The TV is doing real well,” he says as he studies me intently. “But what do you care more about the TV or…your house?”
I smile. “That’s easy, the house,” I say without a second thought. I know we might be planning on moving soon, but that’s a no-brainer.
He cocks a brow. “Okay so, what do you care more about? The house?” he says and pauses for effect, “or your pinkie finger?”
I laugh out loud. “Oh, this is getting morbid now. A nice manicure would just not look the same if I were missing a finger.”
“You have to choose.”
“Well, do I get insurance money for the house?”
“No,” he laughs. “There’s no insurance money in this game. You lose it, babe.”
I shake my head with a shrug. “Well, in that case the house, I suppose.”
He takes my hand in his and kisses the tip of my pinkie. “Poor pinkie,” he whispers.
I smile down at him, suddenly wanting to play a whole different game.