“I don’t like that answer.” She taps her finger on my temple. “Use your imagination again.”
Alarm bells ring at what forms in my mind. As clear as HD, I can picture a bed along the far wall with her spread out, tangled in white sheets, arms outstretched, begging me to join her.
Her hand treks down the wall in slow motion and creeps dangerously close to mine. It’d be so easy to raise my fingers and touch hers. My heart pounds in my chest, echoing in my ears so loud she can probably hear it.
She drops her hand from the wall. “Want to see the bathroom?”
“Sure, and then I’ll get my measuring tape to get some measurements.”
Like a butterfly, Paisley floats across the large room and disappears into the en suite bathroom. “In here, I want a Roman tub. I’ve already been looking for one.”
I peek my head in the door, as she continues to talk, because my brain can’t process the thought of Paisley soaking in a Roman tub at the end of a long day, sudsy bubbles all over her naked body. Me slipping in behind her to wash her long locks.
“Vaughn?”
I shake my head, evicting the fantasy trying to move in. “Sorry, what?”
“Could you do that?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” I may have just promised to do something impossible like build her the Taj Mahal. But, I don’t care, because the smile that lights up her face is worth it.
“Wow, so manly.” She waggles her eyebrows and brushes past me.
“What do you mean?”
She stops in the middle of the room. “It’s just manly how you can fix everything.”
For some reason, I now have a desire to start hammering things. Like her. “Yeah?”
She takes a step backwards. “Yeah, it is. You could build a whole house for me.”
“This is true.” As I approach, erasing the space between us, she takes another step backwards until she’s against the wall.
She looks up at me, and I’m way too fucking close. I never meant to get this close, but if I’m making excuses, that wall came out of nowhere. I could lean down and kiss her if I wanted. And I want to.
Bad.
Fuck.
“I’ll get my tape measure.” Before I do something I’ll regret, I get the hell out of her bedroom.
What just happened?
I bound down the stairs, straight out the front door and to the back of my truck. It takes several minutes of breathing in the cool October air before my body no longer feels like it’s burning.
By the time I stabilize my nerves and re-enter, I’m calm and cool as a cucumber.
She’s waiting in the living room, unphased. “Need help?” she asks, as if she didn’t feel the charged energy that passed between us upstairs.
And hell, maybe she didn’t.
“No, I’ve got it.” I walk past her, into the kitchen, and take measurements.
Am I being stand-offish? Maybe, but I no longer care. I just want to get out of this house.
This is the second time in my life the opportunity to kiss Paisley has presented itself, and I’ve been able to turn it down both times. Even though both times I wanted to.
I deserve an award.
At eighteen, I knew better. I knew I couldn’t take what I wanted and deal with the repercussions of what kissing her would mean.
But tonight, it’s like all the what-ifs are surfacing once again.
“I have a few things picked out already,” she says from the archway of the kitchen entrance. “Actually, I have so much of everything I want to do picked out, I made a Pinterest board.”
That doesn’t surprise me. I haven’t forgotten Paisley’s need to decorate when we were younger. She once decorated my treehouse when we were just kids. Spencer wasn’t happy about it, but I have to say, Paisley kind of knew what she was doing back then, so I have no doubt she’ll be great at picking out things for her new place.
“I believe that.” I can’t help but smile as I lean against the counter, facing her. “I remember you used to have a knack for decorating.”
She grins. “I guess it’s always been a passion.”
“It’s a good passion.” I cross my arms, scanning my eyes around the outdated kitchen. “What do you see for this room?”
“Lots of storage. It’s a good layout. Sky-blue cabinets, black granite countertop, terra cotta tiles.” I listen as she rattles off everything from lighting to drawer pulls. “They have some affordable countertops at Harry’s Home.”
“We can go check some out.” I tell myself I’m only offering because I want to ensure she gets the best price, nothing more.
Her cheeks tinge pink as she glances at the floor. “Maybe.”
“Or you don’t have to go with me.” Maybe it’s best if we don’t spend extra time together.
“I don’t want to take up more of your time. I can always get my friend, Colby, to go with me.” She laughs a little. “He’s got an eye for these things.”
“Great.” I turn back around to finish with the measurements. I don’t know who Colby is, but already I don’t like him.
I click the tape measurer and snap it back into place.
“When will you be starting on the kitchen?”
I can’t identify this feeling bubbling up inside me. It’s occupying my entire headspace. I can’t even think straight.
“I don’t know yet. Spencer and I have to discuss a game plan first.”
“Ok.”
“Well, do you think I should get the countertop soon?”
I run a frustrated hand through my hair, wondering what on earth is wrong with me. “I don’t care what you do. If you want to buy the counter, buy it. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Whoa, you’re being a jerk.” She parks both hands on her hips. And the action draws my eyes to the appealing curves.
“I’m just gonna take a few more measurements and then get you home. I’m sure it’s past your bedtime anyway.” I hate myself.
And the thing I hate more is the anger in her eyes.
She scrunches her nose. “I don’t have a bedtime.”
I nod, not wanting to apologize to her, even though every cell in my body is begging me to sweep her into my arms and kiss her anger away. “Leave me alone so I can finish, ok?”
She stares at me a beat before turning and walking away.
Five
Paisley
* * *
Leave him alone? Sure thing. Don’t have to tell me twice. It’s my house, though, so I can look if I want. Take that, you crotchety exquisite man. He strolls throughout the house, measuring different things, and I watch the same way I used to watch him as a kid. When he and Spencer built their treehouse, that’s still there today, I’d sit on the back porch, soda in hand, studying Vaughn. He still has the same habit of biting the corner of his lower lip as he did back then, when he’d carefully place the wood and use a hammer to nail it all together.
That’s when my crush was born. In hindsight, I should’ve looked away when he smiled from across the lawn, seeking out my thoughts on the structure, like what I had to say was important. I was even the first one to enter the treehouse when it was finally done. And I instantly filled it with pillows from the couch and gave him his first housewarming present—a tractor.