“Why do they have those number combinations?”
“It’s the wire. So a 12-2 wire is a twelve gauge with two conductors. A hot and a neutral, plus a ground. The 10-3 has three conductors. Two hot, one neutral, plus a ground. The lower the gauge, the thicker the copper, so it can carry more electricity.”
I need to get with Darla and let her know that she has misjudged her eldest son’s career choice. This is incredibly intricate and detailed work, and Mack is an expert. His mind on the job is as impressive as his body.
I can’t help it. I start to fan myself. I think I could listen to him talk electrician to me all day. Who needs neutral and ground wires?It’s all hot as far as I’m concerned.
“Hot.”
The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“What’s that?” Mack’s gaze is like a laser on me.
I shift my jaw. I could play this off. Ishouldplay it off like I’m echoing a type of electrical conductor or something. But a part of me wants Mack to know how impressive I think he is. His self-esteem has taken a hit since Tricia started those nasty rumors, and he should know that he’s got a lot going for him—including, but not limited to, the way he wields a drill.
“It’s hot. To hear you…or anyone,” I add becauseself-preservation, “be a subject matter expert.”
Mack’s eyes roam over my face as he closes the distance between us. “Poppy Kasper, did you just call me hot?”
He stops an inch in front of me. The smart little part of my brain that knows this is a bad idea because I’m leaving town and he’s Holland’s brother is screaming at me to deflect. But its scream is being drowned out by the much larger part of my brain that’s listening to my heart, which is currently saying,You think he’s gorgeous. You want to date him! Love him. Marry him!Like Sandra Bullock at the end ofMiss Congeniality.
A classic if ever there was one.
“I may have said that, yes.” I tip my chin up. Because I am wearing fancy underpants today, and I will not cower.
Mack’s gaze unlatches from mine for a fraction of a second to dip to my lips, and a firework lights up my spine. He puts one of his jean-clad legs between mine, and my hands find their way to his sides, and those glorious oblique muscles feel better than they look. His skin is warm and rough with dried sweat and sawdust, and I’m here for it.
I swallow, and my eyes fall closed as he erases the distance between us.
“Honey, we’re home!”
My eyes spring open, and I jump back at the sound of Lou’s voice. I whip my head around as he and Patrick and some other guys on Mack’s crew come sauntering through the door.
And by door, I mean the open framing, which means they likely witnessed the kiss that wasn’t between Mack and me.
Judging by the smirk Lou is shooting at Mack, I’d say the chances they witnessed us almost kiss went fromlikelytomost certainly.
“Alright, gentlemen. Back to work.” Mack’s voice is gruff and all business.
I am a strong, independent woman wearing fancy underwear, but I may as well be a wilting reed at the sound of the command and control in Mack’s voice. I shiver.
“Come on, Boo. I’ll walk you out.”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” I hurry to say. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
Mack doesn’t respond, just puts his big, capable, manly hand on the small of my back and gently nudges me in the direction of my car.
Why is there something so irresistible about the hand-on-the-back trick? Is this something all men know? If not, they should. Want to make a woman feel like she’s the most priceless thing in the world to you? Put your hand on her lower back. Even better, do it in a crowded room, when other people are around.
Every single man here—and woman too, because there are a couple, which is cool—is staring at Mack’s hand pressed against the gauzy blouse I’m wearing. It’s like, with that simple gesture, he’s not only taking care of me but also staking his claim.
It’s a win-win, as I see it, because I like both of those things equally as much. The heart-guided part of my brain currently winning out over the rational part is chanting,Stake that claim, Mack Bradley. Be the astronaut to my moon.
Okay, yeah, it sounded better in my head, but you know what I mean.
Mack guides me all the way back to my car.
“You didn’t have to walk me out,” I say, babbling again as soon as I manage to string two thoughts together.
