Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lily
I stay where I am, leaning against the doorway, pretending I’m just watching him work.
I’m not.
I’m watching the way his shoulders flex when he drills. The controlled power in every movement. The way he moves is like he already knows the space, and he belongs here like this house isn’t empty when he’s in it.
He tightens the last screw and straightens, rolling his shoulder once. When he turns, our eyes collide, and it feels like standing too close to a ledge.
“So,” I say lightly, even though my heart is hammering, “Do I tip you? Or is intimidating silence included in the service?”
His eyebrow twitches. Barely. “Cameras are up,” he says.
I step closer anyway. One step. Careful. Not touching. Just inside his space.
His gaze drops. Not to my mouth. Not to my body. To the floor between us. I want him to actually look at me. I want him to see me, and I don’t know why. But I really do.
“You know,” I murmur, stopping a foot away, “most men flirt when they’re in a woman’s house this long.”
“You shouldn’t flirt with strangers,” he says flatly.
There’s no judgment in it, just a warning in his tone.
I laugh softly. “You’re hardly a stranger. You’ve been in my house all morning.”
What the hell am I saying? This is not me.
“That doesn’t make it smart.” His eyes drop again. To my hands this time. “And most men are idiots.”
That makes me smile. I hate that it does.
I tilt my head. “You don’t seem like one.”
I’m close enough now to smell him. Coffee. A deep masculine cologne. Something darker beneath it. My pulse stutters. Part of me was thinking it could be the scent I was searching for. But, it’s not. It’s not even close.
“Step back,” he says quietly. Almost like he’s asking me to save him.
I don’t. Instead, I lift my hand, stopping just short of his arm.
“You don’t know what you’re inviting,” he says, leaning in just a fraction closer.
The warning should scare me.
It doesn’t.
“Then tell me,” I whisper.
For a split second, everything stops.
His hand comes up fast and wraps around my wrist. Not rough, just enough to stop me. The contact sends a shock straight through me, enough to make me wet on the spot.
His eyes are dark now, like he’s furious with himself for letting it get this far.
“This is where it ends,” he says low. “Right here.”
My throat tightens. “Why?”
I need to hear it.
He releases me and steps back, creating space I didn’t ask for. Distance that feels like punishment.
“This isn’t appropriate.”
The rejection shouldn’t hurt, yet for some reason, it really does. There’s a part of me that wants to keep fighting him on this. It feels right.
“Because you work for Declan?” I ask quietly.
“Because I’m leaving,” he replies. “And you don’t invite men like me to stay.”
Something cold slides into my chest. My ribs squeeze like a vice.
“What kind of men are you?” I almost choke out as I wrap my arms around myself.
His eyes flick to the door. To the outside. To escape. “The kind who don’t deserve your attention.”
I swallow. “That’s not really your call.”
“No,” he agrees. “But it is my responsibility.” He grabs his bag and swings it over his shoulder, already pulling himself away.
“I’ll send everything to your phone. If anything glitches, call the number on the card.” He pauses at the door, hand gripping the handle like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “Lock up after I leave,” he adds. “And don’t open the door to anyone you’re not expecting.”
I nod, even though I hate the way it feels to be told.
For one brutal second, he looks back at me. Not like a stranger. Like a man denying himself oxygen.
“Don’t flirt with men like me,” he says quietly. “Next time, one of us won’t stop.”
Then he’s gone. The door clicks shut behind him.
I stay exactly where I am. Heart pounding. Skin buzzing. Knowing with terrifying clarity that I just brushed against something reckless.
Something that could ruin me.
And the worst part is that a piece of me wants him back anyway.