“—or cares if lemon goes with periwinkle,” Brick continued. “I just want her to be happy.”
“My guess is that you helping her pick things out for your house makes her happy,” Leo said.
His buddy put the tile cutter down in the corner with a sigh. “Yeah. Exactly. I’m hoping to end the torture tonight. We’re finally on the last damn page.”
“So I take it you’re not staying for the group session?”
Brick looked up from the logbook and shook his head. “Nah. Gonna get this registry nailed down tonight if it’s the last thing I do. What about you?”
“Can’t make it tonight.” As it was, Leo had just enough time to grab a quick shower and get to Dallas around the time Kaydee should return from dropping her grandfather and his grandmother off at bingo.
His buddy fell into step as they walked toward the door. “Heading up to Dallas to see your grandmother?”
“Yeah.” He locked the barn but didn’t bother to enlighten the man about Kaydee.
There wasn’t time. Not if he wanted to beat the traffic and spend an hour or two with her. Alone. Which he did.
So he showered, changed, and rushed north, holding a piece of barbecue chicken Vince shoved in his hand on the way out the door. By the time he pulled into his grandmother’s driveway, the chicken was gone and Kaydee was home.
Instead of going into his grandmother’s house, he strode across the street and knocked on Kaydee’s door. The fleeting urge to run, to play it safe and steer them back into the friend zone, flickered through him. But as soon as the door opened and her warm, welcoming smile met his, he relaxed, wanting to do more than exist, wanting to feel again. And damn, Kaydee sure as hell made him feel.
“Hi.” She stood back to let him in, her voice a little breathless, as if maybe he made her feel, too. “You made good time.”
Holding her gaze, he stepped inside and grinned. “I was motivated.”
“You were?” Her eyes rounded, and a pretty blush colored her cheeks.
Damn, she was beautiful.
“Yep.”
She cleared her throat, but the grin remained, while she waved at the boxes stacked near the stairs. “I wasn’t aware that hanging tile could be fun.”
“Oh, it can be. Trust me.”
“I’m…ah…not sure we’re talking about the same thing,” she said. “So I’ll take your word for it.”
They stood there smiling at each other, and he knew if he didn’t move, the tile wouldn’t make it upstairs tonight.
He stepped past her and grabbed a box. “I didn’t think you’d have trouble finding it in stock.”
On Wednesday, he’d figured out how much of the standard white subway tile she’d need for her shower so she could buy it and have it ready for him to install this weekend. Thankfully, she’d listened and hadn’t tried to carry the tile upstairs herself.
“They had plenty.”
After placing the last box in the bathroom, he turned around to find she’d followed him upstairs and was smiling at him in the doorway.
“What?”
“Those boxes were damn heavy, and you haven’t even broken a sweat.”
Oh, he was hot all right, but not from lifting tile. The way desire deepened the brown in her eyes was making him even hotter.
He stepped toward her. “Why do I get the feeling you’re thinking of something else now?”
“Because I am.” Her grin widened. “The guy at the store told me my taste in tile was common, and I can’t help but think about how yourtasteis anything but common.”
Shit.
