Page 58 of Wrecked

“Your what?”

“I need to pound my hammer into a nail.”

I bat my lashes, trying to decipher if he’s using dirty euphemisms or if he actually wants a hammer and a drill.

“Leah, my hammer? My drill? I’ll carry the wood into the house, but I need you to get my tools.”

Yeah, he actually means he wants supplies.

“So, you really think Jessica and I should get together?”

I nearly hammer a finishing nail into my finger. “Yes, I think you two would have fun together.” Taking the next nail from my pocket, I hold it up to the wood and lightly hammer it in. “Do you date, or are you a love-’em-and-leave-’em kinda guy?” I pat my bottom, looking for another nail in my pocket but don’t feel one.

Adam holds a nail out to me. “What kind of question is that?”

“I know everything about everyone in town. I never see you out with anyone. You mentioned that Maggie girl but no one else. Why is that?”

Adam purses his lips. “I don’t know. Don’t have time. I work a lot. I’m not into the party scene.” He rises from the floor as he continues, “I don’t drink, and if I do, it’s just beer. Besides, most girls in this town don’t do it for me.”

I try to ignore the pang of disappointment in my belly and hammer the next nail in, a little too rough.

“Hey,” he says, obviously aware of the insult, “I didn’t mean you. I meant—”

“It’s cool. I know what you meant.” I stand and grab the measuring tape from the ground near the toolbox. I measure the space between the end of the trim and the wall. “Besides, I get asked out all the time.”

“Yeah.” His voice sounds indifferent. “I noticed.”

I snake a pencil out from behind my ear and write the measurement on the wall. A memory pops into my head, making me laugh to myself. “This one time, I was out with Emma, and this guy came up to us. He put his hand in my drink, grabbed a piece of ice, and threw it on the floor.” I laugh again because the line is just too funny. “And he said, ‘I was just trying to break the ice.’”

Taking a breath to control myself, I add, “Don’t worry. I know how to scare them off. He asked if I wanted to feel his biceps. I took my hand and rubbed it over the sleeve of his arm, and in the sultriest voice I could muster, I said, ‘Feels like boyfriend material.’” With a chuckle, I stand up. “He ran so fast.”

I’m still smiling to myself as I turn around and come face-to-face with Adam. He’s not laughing at all. Instead, his brows are creased with a look in his eyes like he’s slightly dazed.

“I almost forgot how much I love your stories.” His mouth curves into a lopsided grin.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at the small line on the edge of his smile. It’s so perfect that I could lean over and kiss it.

With a shake, I ignore that thought. “You gonna stand there all day? Because this trim isn’t going to cut itself.”

I rush down the stairs with the measurements in hand and head outside to the circular saw.

Adam comes up behind me. “You do this one.”

Since my shirt is wet, the heat is more tolerable. I slide on goggles and make the cut. He gives a chin up to let me know it looks good. I cut a few more pieces, turn off the machine, and walk the wood upstairs. I’m hammering the piece of trim into the wall when I feel Adam come back into the room. I look back at him while I work.

Paying way too much attention to the hammer in his hand, he nods his head, almost to himself. “You wouldn’t be upset at all if I asked Jessica to Velocity?”

His question catches me off guard, and I trip on the power cord, falling on the floor. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay?” Adam is at my side, my wrist in his hand, and he guides me toward a bench.

My skin is scraped but not bleeding. With puckered lips, he gently blows on the pulsing skin, and my injured knee is now the last thing on my mind.

“You need an ice pack? I’m sure Toby has something in the truck.”

He’s looking down at my leg, and I can’t help but stare at his sculpted jaw and the five o’clock shadow of gorgeous dark hair accenting those impossibly soft-looking lips. His hand is still holding on to mine, and the heat of skin-to-skin contact is making my wrist feel like the most erogenous zone on my body.

“You look a little flush. You want a drink or something?” he says, releasing my hand and walking over to his cooler. He grabs an iced tea and hands it to me.