But then I look around at his room and relax with a little laugh. There’s one of Mabel’s standard quilts on the bed （courtesy of Gemma’s quilt shop, Comfort Quilts）， and there are several decorative trinkets on the dresser and bedside tables. A random owl. An antique clock. A pillow embroidered with the words Pretty as a Peach sitting in the middle of the neatly made bed where the top edge of the sheet is folded down primly. The only evidence that Will stays here is the cell phone charger plugged into the wall and the folded clothes on the dresser. Other than those, nothing suggests a modern-day version of a rake is staying here.
Clearly, I have nothing to worry about.
The door suddenly opens and Will rushes in, closing it behind him.
He leans back against it like he just outran a bear. In his butterfly hand is a piece of white siding. “Damn, Annie, what are you turning me into? I’m now at a new level of awful after having to deliberately rip off a piece of Mabel’s siding before they all came to look! Of course I told her I’d fix it for her—but I feel like I’m going to have bad dreams after seeing how proud she looked at me for offering to fix it after I was the one who ripped it off.” He’s still wearing the same black cargo pants and green tee from this morning, but now he has a roguish, excited smile in place. It fades when he takes in my expression. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say, waving him off and still not able to hold back my chuckles.
He cocks his head skeptically and tosses the piece of siding onto the bed. “Okay, it’s clearly not nothing. What’s with the laughter?”
I shake my head and give in to it, laughing until little mist droplets form in my eyes. “It’s silly. But I was a little nervous to hang out with you in your room tonight because of your reputation. But then when I realized you’re living in one of the Golden Girls’ rooms, I didn’t feel so worried anymore.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says, looking highly offended now. “Why don’t you feel worried anymore?”
“Because!” I say, laughing again as I think of Will trying to seduce me on top of that blue-and-white-checkered quilt. “Look at this room! The only thing you could hold in here is a Bible study.”
“Psh,” he says looking away and then back again with a grin I’ve come to know as a precursor. “You think this decor matters one bit? If I wanted to seduce you, the frills on a pillow aren’t going to stop me.”
“Nope—sorry, I call bull crap,” I say, sitting on the end of the very wholesome and unsexy bed. “Here I was thinking that Will Griffin would live somewhere with satin sheets and a record player in the corner where he could offer to show me his favorite slow jams that would set the mood. A real den of iniquity—”
“Well, I don’t love that name.”
“But really, it’s just getting me in the mood to go to the farmers market! Does this thing even…” I bounce on the mattress a few times. “Oh my gosh! It doesn’t even squeak, Will! What kind of a ladies’ man are you?!” I lose it, falling back on the mattress with a devastating laugh.
He watches me with a smile. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Quite. Because, you, sir, are a disgrace to bad boys everywhere by living in a room like this! I’m tempted to take pictures of you standing there with the Bless This Mess embroidery behind you and then sell them to BuzzFeed.”
Will steps toward me with a lazy smile. “All right. Get your ass up.”
I feel drugged and loose-limbed from joy as I sit up and take his outstretched hand. “Where are we going? To make some jam in the kitchen?”
But then my breath catches in my lungs when we get to the door and Will whirls me around so that my back is flat against it. “Because you’ve insulted my very carefully practiced reputation, your lessons start now. I’m going to demonstrate a few things—skipping lesson one, which I’d planned as light first date flirting—and we’ll jump all the way to lesson seven: postdate seduction for when you’re ready to take someone to bed.”
Oh Lordy.
“But first, I believe in absolute consent at all times. So I need to know if it’s okay for me to touch your hands—and only your hands?”
I swallow and nod, feeling my pulse throb against my neck.
“Words, Annie. I need to hear you say yes.”
I clear my throat. “Yes.”
“Great.” He steps closer—so close that his chest is almost brushing mine, and his bluish-gray eyes are searing through me. That suddenly feels like way too much distance. Will’s gaze holds mine—mesmerizing me as he intertwines our fingers. Slowly. Intentionally. Never has my skin felt so alive.