Page 14 of Stud

Stray blond hairs blew across her face. Her very stoic face. I hadn’t been this close to her since that first day. I forgot how impossibly plump her lips were, how her eyes shone like blue beach glass. It made me wonder if her glass was the type to drift or stick or cut.

I inched forward, and her throat bobbed. Her shoelace was undone, her pink sneakers another cute thing about her.

“It sucked.” Her husky voice took on a softer tone. “Made me feel pretty shitty. I’d wanted to volunteer for a while, and what happened is one of the reasons I’d waited so long. It’s not nice being made the fool.”

Talk about a left hook to the jaw. “The only fool here is me.”

“You got that right.” She studied my face, maybe searching for sincerity. Her shoulders lowered. “But thank you for apologizing.”

Her phone buzzed from her tool belt, but she didn’t grab it. She glanced toward the road, probably looking to escape. I wasn’t ready to let her go. “It’s dangerous to use cellphones on site. You could get distracted, and you should tie your shoelace.”

“Is this you trying to give me handy-dandy tips again?” She backed up against the house, her chin tipped up in defiance. Her eyes still glinted, but not with annoyance. Her attention drifted down my sternum, and lower. It returned leisurely to my face. Warmth dusted my chest.

The construction area had cleared out, most people breaking for lunch. It was just her and me and this heaviness between us. And maybe something else…

I swallowed hard. “People get injured when they’re not careful.” I’d almost hammered my thumb earlier, watching her bend over.

“I’m not distracted. It’s an alarm. I was playing my crossword app when Sherise went to get more tape. Sometimes I give myself a time limit. It’s telling me I lost.”

“Crossword app?”

“Yes, crosswords. Those games where there’s a clue and you have to guess which word fills the space. Maybe you’ve heard of them?”

She was a snippy little thing. Feisty. I liked it. “I’ve heard of them. It’s not what I expected, is all.”

“Because?” Accusation lit beneath her raised brows.

Still holding her hardhat, I ran my tongue along the back of my teeth. I’d seen her on her phone at breaks, scrolling and tapping the screen. I’d assumed she was texting a boyfriend or checking fashion trends. Crossword puzzles were the last thing I’d have guessed.

“I’ll let that question lie.” I’d no doubt say the wrong thing. I didn’t want to end this conversation, either.

It had been years since I’d flirted, and I’d never excelled at it back in the day. My mother had me at fifteen, something that scared the crap out of me. It had kept me away from girls awhile. Until I’d discovered sex. I may have been a late bloomer, but the studious kid I was, I’d made it my mission to uncover the glorious riches of a woman’s body. Every canvas was different. Each woman had her own secrets, her body a treasure map.

Treasures I hadn’t sought in ages.

Ainsley was the first in a long while to spark my interest, and I was about ready to forget my lawyer’s no-dating advice. I’d also vowed to take it slow this time. Make sure I really knew someone before getting involved. If my flirting skills weren’t on the corroded side of rusty, it would make getting to know her a hell of a lot easier.

“You’re doing well,” I said. “Making a difference on site.”

Hope seemed to brighten her face, making her look younger, softer. “Really?”

“Pretty sure you’ve never used that hammer before, but you’re catching on quick.”

Her pointed look held more amusement than animosity. “Says you.”

“You telling me I’m wrong?”

Instead of answering, she said, “Did you know hammer heads can come loose? That’s where the term ‘fly off the handle’ came from.”

I cradled her hardhat against my stomach. It had a worn bit of plastic on top, protruding. I ran my finger over the sharp edge. My hands had a sudden need to keep busy. “You don’t say.”

“I do. Know what else?” She arched her back, and that rip in her shirt shifted, revealing a tease of purple lace. Damn. Purple.

I shook my head in answer, didn’t trust my voice to speak. But man, those eyes of hers were stunning, sucking me in again. I’d bet they burned into blue flame when she was coming. The possibility had me wanting to pin her against the wall, feel her surrounding me, grinding on me. Sweat gathered at the base of my spine.

“Well,” she said, mischief lighting her face, “according to my online dictionary, there’s also a peening hammer. It’s used in metal work. There’s a cross-peen hammer. A diagonal-peen. Point-peen. Chisel-peen. Like lots of peens that hammer things. Ever used one?” She batted her long lashes at me, dangling her teasing bait to see if I’d bite.

I sure as hell wanted to bite. To nibble and lick and kiss. Heat flooded my groin, my thighs flexing automatically. Time to dust off my flirting skills.