“Lavender and rosemary.”
“Pretty much the same thing.”
“Not even close, but okay.” I step aside so he can come in, which he does before he drops the backpack and the takeout on the floor, takes my face in his calloused hands, and kisses me until my toes curl.
Everything else is forgotten: the food, the things he came over to do—other than me. He kisses along the edge of my jaw, hands sliding under my shirt. “This okay?”
“More than okay.”
“How was your day?” he asks as he lifts the fabric over my head and drops it on the floor.
“Good. Yours?” I get to work unfastening his belt.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And every time that happened, I got a really inconvenient hard-on I couldn’t do anything about. It was a good thing that I was working alone, on a roof, otherwise it would have been embarrassing as hell.”
“I guess it’s also good we can do something about it now.”
“So good.” He yanks my pants down my thighs and takes my panties right along with them. Then he spins me around and pins my back against the door. “All day, Teagan.” He drops to his knees and hikes one of my legs over his shoulder. “You were all I could think about.”
An hour later we’re seated at the kitchen table, me with a martini and Aaron with a bottle of root beer, eating takeout from the diner.
Aaron picked up three different meals, and one included a side salad. I’m in awe of the way he shovels in food, barely tasting it.
“I already took care of the trim, so you don’t have to worry about that.” I pop a cherry tomato in my mouth.
He pauses with a forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth. “When did you have time to do that? I thought you were at work all day.”
“I woke up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep because my brain went straight into high gear. Anyway, I bought a bunch of light fixtures, and I thought maybe you could show me how to install them.”
“I can install them for you no problem.”
I spear a piece of grilled chicken and dip it in my salad dressing. “I know you can, but if it’s not too much trouble, maybe you could show me, so I know how in the future.”
Aaron tips his head, a small smile playing on his delicious lips. “Oh yeah, sure. I can definitely do that.”
“Thanks.” I return the smile and pop the piece of chicken in my mouth.
There are no leftovers because Aaron polishes everything off. Apart from what was left of my salad. He wasn’t lying about hating vegetables.
His phone rings as I’m washing up the dishes. “I gotta take this. I’ll just be a minute.” He presses a kiss to my temple and disappears outside for a few minutes.
When he returns, the dishes are done, and he sets everything up so we can install the light fixtures. He adjusts the ladder, turning it into what looks like one of those old climbers kids used to hang off in the playground at school. Except it’s silvery metal and not painted red. He lays a thick plank over the top and secures it, then helps me up onto it. I have to sit down, feeling unsteady. “I’m only a few feet off the ground. Why does this feel so much higher?”
“Because you’re not used to it. You’re not going to fall, babe, I promise.” He gives my calf a squeeze. “I’m going to pass you the chandelier, and then I’ll climb up after you.”
I don’t know if babe is a common term of endearment for him or not. Troy used to call me doll, and it drove me up the wall, but for some reason I don’t mind babe coming from Aaron. “Okay. Then what?”
“All you have to do is hold the chandelier for now.”
He climbs up beside me and hops to his feet, then holds out his hand. When I give him a skeptical look, he quirks a brow. “What are you worried about?”
“Losing my balance and falling.”
“You won’t. You’ve got thighs of steel. I would know since I’ve had them wrapped around my head and my waist recently.” He winks. “Now come on, babe, there’s an orgasm waiting for you after we install this.”
“Well, in that case.” I slip my hand in his, letting him help me to my feet.
I like this, having him teach me things. Practical things. Stuff I’d have to watch videos to learn otherwise. And it gives me reasons to touch him and have him touch me. It feels a lot like another form of foreplay. Especially when he moves to stand behind me, a foot bracketing the outside of mine, and drops a kiss on the side of my neck.
Every time I do something correctly, I get another kiss and more words of praise. By the time we’re done with the chandelier in the main living area and the ceiling fan over the bed, I’m ramped right up, like I’ve consumed a four-pack of energy drinks after a pot of coffee.
“You did good, babe.” Aaron’s arm wraps around my waist, and he drops his head, lips moving against my neck. “And you were sexy as hell doing it.”
That term of endearment is growing on me. “Thanks for being so patient.” I tip my head to the side.
“No thanks needed. You’re boss-level sexy when you’re handling my tools.”
“Such a bad line.” I laugh and then sigh as his lips part and I feel the warm, wet swipe of his tongue on my skin. I reach up and wrap my arm around the back of his neck, back arching with the stretch until I can feel the nudge against my butt, telling me exactly how sexy he thinks I am. “Is it time for that orgasm now?”
“Absolutely. Maybe even more than one if we’re both lucky.”
Over the weeks that follow, I begin to settle into life in Pearl Lake. Sometimes I find it hard to toe the line between the locals and the McMansion owners. I used to be them, but now I’m working all these very different jobs, and I feel as though I’m learning new things about myself every day. I see now that I took my comfortable life for granted, and I try to appreciate the little things more than I used to.
What makes the transition easier is the fact that I have a very gorgeous, very talented man showing me his skill set in the bedroom several times a week. We haven’t put a label on it, but whatever it is we’re doing, it’s fun and I enjoy his company.
At first Aaron’s visits are planned around finishing up stuff in the loft. It truly is the small things that need taking care of. He shows me how to install door hardware and teaches me tricks about screwing on plate covers, like that I need to use a flathead screwdriver, and that I want the slot to be vertical on both screws to give it a neat, finished look.
But even the final touches don’t take long, so I keep trying to find things that I need help with, and Aaron keeps on coming over to give me a hand. I don’t want it to stop, but I also don’t want to turn this into something bigger than it is. It feels like more than just sleeping together, but I don’t know if I’d go so far as to consider it dating, since we generally hang out at my place, work on projects, and have sex.
After about two weeks I’ve exhausted all the interior projects, and still Aaron finds reasons to stop by. He needs to check the electrical panel. There’s a squeaky floorboard; he wants to tighten the screws on my bed frame. Usually whatever it is takes all of five minutes, and then we’re tearing each other’s clothes off.