“Okay. Sounds good.”
We leave the garage and head to the house. It’s slowly transitioning in my head from cottage to permanent home. We have more than enough steak, and we also have shrimp. I start pulling things out of the fridge and decide I might as well make biscuits too.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You can spin the lettuce.” I point out the spinner and push the field greens toward him.
He makes a face, as though I’ve asked him to clean up dog crap.
“Do you have a problem with lettuce?”
“I only like the kind in Caesar salads, when the flavor is masked with dressing, bacon and cheese.”
“You have the palate of a five-year-old.”
“Lettuce without dressing tastes like dirt.”
“It tastes healthy.”
“Exactly. Like dirt.”
I’m shaking my head, ready to fire off a joke about how he probably likes to eat canned spaghetti, when I hear the sound of gravel crunching on the driveway. “Um, question.”
Aaron stops dumping lettuce in the spinner. “Fire away.”
“We’re gonna play it cool, right?” I feel stupid the moment I ask it.
“As opposed to not playing it cool?” He sets the lettuce down and grabs me by the hips, lifting me until my butt rests on the countertop, and steps in between my legs.
“What’re you doing?”
“Demonstrating not playing it cool.” He takes my face in his hands, tips his head to the side, and presses his lips to mine.
I start to protest, which means he can slip his tongue into my mouth for a stroke before he breaks the kiss. He sets me back on the floor and moves out of my personal space. “Just clarifying that you don’t want me to do that in front of your brother and Dillion.”
I don’t have a chance to answer because the door flies open. “How much you want to bet Aaron and Teag—oh, hey!” Dillion stops in the doorway, and Van nearly knocks her over.
“Hey,” Aaron and I say at the same time.
Dillion’s eyes bounce between us and all the food laid out on the counter. “Does this mean we need more steak? Because I’m not sharing mine.”
“I bought four,” Van tells her. “I’m glad you’re here, Aaron. I need to pick your brain about that new monster of a home the Strykers want to build.”
“Sure. You know I’m always up for a challenge. You got drawings?”
Aaron and Van take the steaks out to the barbecue, leaving me and Dillion on our own. “You look like the cat who ate the canary.”
“Don’t start,” I mutter, then add, “I need a better poker face.”
“You’ve got a royal flush going on.” She steps in and takes over where Aaron left off with the lettuce.
I roll my eyes and huff a laugh.
“Guess he likes you after all.”
“Just stop.” I elbow her in the side.
“I have a million questions, which I’ll save for later.”
We finish making dinner and eat outside at the picnic table. “How soon do you think you can have preliminary ideas for the Winslows?” Dillion asks me.
“Probably by the weekend. I’m going to get started tonight with an idea board since it’s all fresh in my head.”
“I think it’s great that you’re helping out with the design side of things,” Van says before he takes another bite of steak.
“Seems like a good fit, considering the way you transformed the apartment in the garage in less than a week,” Aaron agrees.
I duck my head. “It’s something I do for fun.”
“Well, you do a damn good job,” Dillion says. “If you’re interested, we have a meeting with the Palmerstons on Saturday morning. It’s all the preliminary planning, but it might not hurt to have you sit in on it anyway. And the guys just finished laying the interlocking stone for their outdoor kitchen. You could give them some ideas, maybe?”
“Oh, sure. I can definitely do that.”
“Don’t take advantage of my sister. Teagan can’t say no to anyone,” Van says teasingly.
“Unless you’re busy,” Dillion adds. “I don’t want to overload you or anything.”
I roll my eyes. “I can say no.” I turn my attention to Dillion. “Don’t listen to Van. I can totally handle it. Do you have pictures of the outdoor kitchen? That way I can go into the meeting with ideas.”
“You have some, don’t you, Aaron?” Van asks.
“Yup. Sure do. If you give me your number, I’ll text them to you.” A slight smirk tips one corner of his mouth.
“I’ll share Teagan’s contact with you,” Dillion offers.
“That’d be great.” Aaron’s smile is wry as Dillion pulls out her phone and taps at the screen. A moment later Aaron’s phone pings.
He pulls it out of his back pocket, and a few seconds later my phone pings too.
Van glances between us and gives his head a shake.
After dinner Aaron makes an excuse about needing to take a couple more measurements in the loft before he takes off, so I leave with him. The measurements are clearly a ruse, because the second we’re inside and the door is closed, his mouth slants over mine. A minute later he breaks the kiss.
“What’re you doing tomorrow?”
It takes me a few seconds to switch gears from kissing to answering questions. “Um, I work at Harry’s from nine until five.”
“And after that?” His gaze is on my mouth.
“I’ll probably work on the Winslow idea board and maybe paint the wall behind my bed. Or put a decal up or something.”
He scratches the back of his neck. “I have a McMansion project I need to work on during the day, but I should be done before five.”
“McMansion project?”
“That’s what we call the houses on the other side of the lake.”
“Oh, right. Is it a lawn-mowing kind of project?” I squeeze my eyes shut and make a face that I’m sure isn’t the least bit attractive. Way to be too needy after sleeping together once, Teagan. Okay, twice, but still. “You don’t have to answer that. It’s not my business.”
“I haven’t mowed any of those kinds of lawn in the figurative sense in a long time.”
I crack a lid. “We’re talking about sex, right, and not the literal act of cutting someone’s grass with a lawn tractor?”
Aaron smiles. “Yes, we’re talking about sex. I don’t get involved with those women anymore, but if you’re interested, I could come over after work and finish up the trim, and we could do this again.” He motions between the two of us.
“I would like that.”
“Me too.” He tugs me forward by my belt loop and wraps his arm around me, bending until our lips connect. And we start all over again.
CHAPTER 11
INTO THE SWING
Teagan
As promised, Aaron shows up just after five the next evening, carrying a backpack and a bag of takeout from the diner where Dillion’s mom works.
“What’s this?” I motion to the backpack.
“A change of clothes for after I’m done with the trim. And I brought my shower stuff, because as nice as you smell, I’m not partial to me smelling like roses and chamomile.”