I grabbed my messenger bag, a notebook, and a pen. “Can I take some measurements and look around?”
“Yes.”
A buzzer went off, and for the first time, I noticed the aroma in the kitchen.
I inhaled deeply. “Do I smell peanut butter?”
Becca smiled and slid a tray from the oven. “Cookies for when you’re done. To say thank you.”
I eyed the tray, but she laughed, waving me away. “Too hot. Do your work, then you can eat them.”
“Okay.”
I returned to the living room. Becca was at the counter, tapping on her laptop. A plate of cookies sat beside her. I reached over, snagged one, and took a bite.
“Oh God, these are amazing. Peanut butter is my favorite.”
“Good.”
I pulled out the other stool. “May I?”
She laughed. “Of course.”
She pushed a bottle of water my way. “Got everything you needed?”
“Yeah. I’ll change the lock for the same kind we have in Ridge Towers. The camera is wireless. I’ll need to add the software to your laptop and phone for you. You can control it, look to see who is at your door, unlock it remotely. It’s a good lock too. You’ll be safe.”
“Is that all it does?”
“No, it has a lot of features. Maddox’s connects to his concierge desk, and he can talk to them directly, have deliveries sent straight up, check out visitors. I’ll set it up so you can use your phone to buzz people in from the front door.”
She chuckled, reaching for a cookie. “I’ll never get off the sofa.”
I snagged another cookie. “Once we figure out what you want, I can set up a bunch of features for your electronics and your music. Some wireless speakers would work well in here.”
“That would be awesome, but I don’t want to take advantage.”
I wanted her to take advantage. Especially of me. In every way possible. I cleared my throat and shifted on the stool. “Nope. I offered, and I meant it.”
“Thank you, Reid.” She bit down on her cookie, a few crumbs sticking to her mouth. She swept her tongue over her bottom lip, and I had to bite back my groan.
I wanted to kiss her.
She tilted her head. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Desperate to change the subject, I waved toward the shelves. “Do I need to bring stuff over to hang those?”
“I have a little toolbox my dad insisted I should own. There’s no drill though, and I’m not sure I have the things that hold them up.”
“You mean anchors?”
“Yes.”
“I can bring those and a drill. And we’ll need a level. I have all that.”
Or I would once I went to the hardware store.
“Are you sure?”
I bobbed my head in agreement. “Yep. When would you like me to hang them?”
“Oh, whenever you have time.”
“I can swing by on the weekend. Tomorrow works, if you’re free.”
She frowned. “That’s two of your Saturdays I would be taking. You must have plans . . . with your girlfriend . . . ?” She let the words trail off, not meeting my eyes.
“No. No girlfriend.”
“Oh.” That was all she said, but I noticed the way her mouth curled at the corners, as if she was fighting a smile.
“I-I won’t be interfering with your, ah, significant other coming to visit?” I asked, my throat dry.
She met my gaze, shaking her head. “No. There isn’t one.”
We both smiled, our eyes locking. Her gaze skittered away, the light flush appearing on her cheeks once more. I had to stop myself from reaching over to feel if her skin was warm.
“So what do you have coming for this spot?” I asked, indicating the empty space behind me. “A dining room table or something?”
She bit her lip, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand. “No, I’m good with the counter. I don’t do dinner parties.”
“A new desk?”
“No,” she repeated. “I use the space for exercise.”
“Oh, like yoga?” I knew Cami, Emmy, and Dee had taken up yoga recently.
She tilted her head, studying me as I took a large mouthful of my water.
“No, I use a stripper pole.”
My throat closed, mid-swallow.
Until that very moment, I had no idea how far I could spray water.
Apparently, it was really far.
Reid
I checked the contents of my bag, yanking the zipper shut. I had enough screws, nails, and anchors to hang the contents of a museum. My drill and level would be well used today. I glanced at my watch, wondering if eight a.m. was too early to show up at Becca’s apartment.
After I had imitated a fountain the previous night, she had scrambled off the stool, grabbed a towel for me, and patted me on the back as I choked.
“I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to!”
I drew in some much-needed oxygen and mopped the counter in front of me. “No problem. I wasn’t expecting the joke. My bad.” I glanced at her. “Did I get you?”
She shook her head, eyes dancing. “No.”
“Good.”
She shrugged. “Even if you had, it’s only water. What’s a little spit between friends?”
Luckily, my bottle was only partway to my lips, or I would have choked again. I had to bite my tongue in order not to tell her I would like to trade spit with her. Instead, I cleared my throat and swallowed the last of my water. I slid off the stool, wiping my hand down my damp shirt.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. What time is good?”
“I’m here all day, so whenever.”
I left before I could embarrass myself further. Her unexpected remark caused a flurry of images to go through my head. The vision of Becca on a stripper pole became a constant loop in my mind. I knew she had no idea her teasing would result in a barrage of fantasies starring her, but I couldn’t help it.
Deciding it was too early, I tidied my small apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was close to the office, and when I rented it, it seemed like a palace. I had never had my own space before. Growing up in foster homes and ending up in prison pretty much guaranteed a lack of privacy.
It was a simple, basic setup—one room, with a kitchen at one end, and a futon I used as both a couch and a bed at the other end. The bathroom was by the entrance door, and it held a toilet, sink, and shower. All old and chipped, but serviceable. The walls were plain beige, with only a couple of posters hung to break the monotony of the space.
In the middle of the room, under the one window, was the desk I’d made from old cinder blocks I had dragged home and a heavy slab of wood. On either side were compact, heavy, steel shelves filled with computers and parts. My one extravagance, the TV, hung on the wall, and a nicer set of shelves held my comic books. I hadn’t been joking when I told Becca I loved them. They were something I longed for as a child, and now I could buy them. I’d added some shelves to the cupboard at the front, and it served as a dresser and a place for my coat. I rarely had visitors. I lived simply, and until today, it never mattered. But as I studied the space, I knew I didn’t want Becca to see it. She wouldn’t judge me, but it was lifeless—a spot I used to sleep and change.