Do I, though?
Nope, not even a little bit. Because when life throws you eye candy, you damn well get your fill.
Oh, speaking of my fill. There he is, like a true gentleman, standing on the porch waiting for me.
I get out of my vehicle with a smile on my face. "You didn't have to wait up for me."
Ang's hands are stuffed in his jeans pockets as he rests his left shoulder against the interior of the doorframe. "I figured you would need help bringing stuff in."
I pop the trunk with a smirk. "I actually don't have that much. One trip between the two of us and I'll be good to go."
I'm not ashamed to admit I watch Ang walk toward me. His short-sleeved shirt wraps tight around his biceps. I wait until he grabs two of the suitcases just so I can see his arms flex from the weight. It's obvious he's earned the muscles through hard work and plenty of hammering.
I snicker at my own joke.
Hammering.
Carpenter.
I crack myself up.
"What's so funny?"
I didn't realize how much time passed while I was busy laughing at myself. Ang is already back to grab the last suitcase.
"Just thinking of a new shirt idea," I blurt out before I can think better of it.
It isn't a bad idea, actually. I'm sure I could find something on one of the websites. I need to remember to look tomorrow.
Ang doesn't say anything as I follow him into my new apartment with my bag tossed over my shoulder. I don't take it personally. Not everyone shares my excitement over my wardrobe.
I check out his ass when he bends over to place the last suitcase next to the others. I never understood why women got all googly-eyed over a man's ass. I've always thought men's jeans were unflattering. That is until I saw Ang in his. It's as if they’re custom-made for his body.
I'm doing a poor job of hiding my ogling when he stands up and turns to look at me. The smirk on his face is a clear indication he knows where my mind is at. When he walks over to me and glances down at my shirt, I start to hyperventilate. This feels like a monumental moment.
"I'm curious to find out just how accurate that shirt is."
With that cliffhanger of a statement, Ang leaves me with my mouth hanging open like a guppy fish, wondering what the hell just happened between us.
Chapter Five
ANGELO
Squirter.
I've never seen a shirt like it, but damn do I want to know if it's true.
There hasn't been a woman who caught my attention since my wife's death. I didn't expect that when the time came again, the woman to snag my interest would be a spitfire like Gracie.
I always thought I had a type, but Gracie is proving that wrong. She's not docile like my wife was. Based on the shirts she wears, she's definitely not conservative in the bedroom. Or outside of it for that matter. I have a feeling I will never need to guess what Gracie's thinking.
Wait, what am I saying?
Gracie's my tenant. Nothing good ever comes from mixing business with pleasure. Plus, I have my daughters to think about. The only woman they've ever seen me in a relationship with is their mother. None of the babysitters have ever felt permanent. Certainly not in a girlfriend or stepmom role. Butmaybe Gracie could be. There’s something different about her that gives me permanent vibes.
I sigh and think again about my late wife. How Everly never met her mother. But you better believe I tell her about Nina every chance I get. I don't want my girls to forget the love their mother had for them.
"Daddy?"
