Chapter Twelve
Jessie
The one fortunate thing about this whole shit show was that it happened on a Friday night…
or early Saturday morning technically. Clint had the weekend to get some sleep and practice on his crutches and I had two days to figure out why the hell I wanted to kiss him so badly.
He’d been slowly growing on me the more time we’d spent together, and yes, seeing him without a shirt when he answered the door didn’t hurt.
My life was enough of a mess without adding a crush on my coworker slash rival.
I distracted myself from my attraction by thinking of him only as a patient that needed help. Maybe if I mothered him I wouldn’t want to bang him? Meh, it was worth a try.
Since I had avoided paying my mother’s late cable bill, I had a few extra dollars and decided to grab Clint some groceries.
When I arrived at his apartment on Sunday with a bag in each hand, I tried the handle without bothering to knock.
He wasn’t exactly speedy on his crutches and besides, I’m pushy.
The door wasn’t locked so I let myself in and put the bags down on the table.
The building’s hallway smelled of stale cigarettes but Clint’s apartment smelled clean and a little like his cologne.
I poked my head into the living room but didn’t see him, so I wandered up the hallway to his bedroom.
If I had a broken ankle, I’d have my ass in bed, so that must be where he was.
I was wrong.
He was standing next to his bed in only a towel, his back towards me.
The cast on his ankle was wrapped in plastic bags, but that was not what my eyes caught on.
His dirty blond hair was darker thanks to the water and I followed a bead as it slid over his shoulder and down his spine.
I’d gotten a quick look at his chest the other night, but he looked as good from the back as he did from the front.
He had some muscle on him. Mentally, I had put him in the category of spoiled, soft rich boy but the reality of who he was had slowly been permeating through my stubborn assumptions.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
I flicked my eyes up to see that he was watching me over his shoulder. His blue eyes were darker and more focused than usual.
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to drop the towel.”
I licked my lips. I did want him to. I wanted him to throw it out the window and burn it for good measure.
I wanted him to stalk across this room and let me run my hands down the wet skin of his chest. I wanted him to throw me down on his bed and make me forget that he was the one person who might fuck up my plans for the future.
Make me forget that my stubbornness had gotten him hurt.
I realized I hadn’t answered him and my brain couldn’t come up with what words to use. One corner of his mouth ticked up for a second before he turned his back to me again.
Then the towel hit the floor.
If I had pearls, I would have been clutching them.
Not in outrage, just to have something to do with my hands besides squeeze the very firm ass that was bare and pointed in my direction.
He started pulling clothes out of a drawer and putting them on the bed.
I managed to get my feet to cooperate and backed out of the room, my eyes never leaving the long lines of his back.
I retreated to the kitchen, clumsily shoving groceries into the fridge until I heard his crutches clicking against the floor. What was the protocol here? Pretend I hadn’t just studied his ass hard enough to get a PhD? Fess up to it and laugh it off? Or find out if he felt the same heat I did?
Naturally, I picked the most cowardly option.
“I’ll pick you up for work Monday just after six.
Do you need anything before then?” My cheeks burned as I asked the question and my eye contact was hitting around nipple height.
He ran his tongue over his lower lip and assessed me for a moment that felt a lot longer, before shaking his head.
I was out the door so fast, I probably left a cloud of dust in my wake.
******
Monday morning came quickly. More quickly than I was ready for. I fidgeted with my keys while I waited for him to answer his front door. I had learned my lesson about letting myself in. “Morning,” I said when the door swung open, faking energy that I didn’t feel.
“Morning,” Clint replied, trying to balance on his crutches while grabbing his lunch, keys and wallet.
My eyes landed on the table, memories of our almost kiss flooding my mind. My toes curled in my work boots.
“Alright, let’s do this,” he said, slinging his arm around my shoulder. The side of his body pressed against mine and I held tight to his hip while we maneuvered down the stairs and out to my truck. Fuck, the press of him against my side felt way too right.
He was able to get himself into the passenger seat, albeit slowly, and I was grateful for the small amount of distance I could put between us. Once he was buckled in, I turned my focus to driving.
“You okay?” he asked as I pulled onto the highway.
“Hmm? Yeah, just tired,” I lied. In reality, I was trying not to breathe in the scent of his cologne. Not to notice where his big hand was splayed on his thigh, or where his pulse beat in the side of his neck.
It didn’t help that I’d come to actually like the guy. He was smart and practical. Had more tenacity than I’d given him credit for. He was even funny, intentionally and unintentionally.
We couldn’t both win. And seeing him in his small apartment full of second-hand furniture and bare walls let me know he needed this job as much as I did.
I drove Clint right to the front door of the office once we were on site, before parking my truck.
I spent the day working on site, while Clint worked in the office.
There was a lot to do to clean up from the damage that was done by the protesters.
Mechanics were checking over the machines and repairing damage.
The trench needed to be checked for stability. It was one hell of a good distraction.
The entire week passed in similar fashion, a combination of the enticing press of Clint’s body when I helped him get around, followed by the welcome distraction of work.
******
Finally, five o’clock on Friday came around and the week of torturing my senses was almost over.
Clouds had been moving in as the day went by and it wasn’t long after we started driving home that the sky opened up. “It’s really coming down,” he said, as my truck threatened to hydroplane on the highway.
Kamloops was a desert technically, but when it rained, Mother Nature didn’t fuck around.
We were both quiet as I drove, my wipers barely keeping up with the onslaught of water.
I blew out a breath when, an hour later, I finally pulled off the highway. “We’re almost there.” My relief was short lived as my old faithful truck gave a shudder that it hadn’t before.
“What was that?” Clint asked as I frowned at my dashboard.
“Nothing good.”
Come on, just a few more miles to go.
But of course, the truck started to slow and then quit entirely.
“Shit.” It had enough momentum left for me to coast us to the side of the road before it stopped with a final lurch.
I slammed the butt of my hand against the steering wheel and rested my head against it for a moment. Like I didn’t have enough to fucking deal with.
A warm hand landed on my shoulder and I leaned into the heat. “It’s not going to restart, is it?”
I shook my head without lifting it. Outside, the rain continued, the constant patter of water on the windows flooding the cab with white noise. Clint’s apartment building was within view, mocking me from a short distance away. “What do we do now?” My voice sounded pitiful to my own ears.
“Stay here with me tonight.”