Chapter 67 Hammer Time
Hammer Time
Tessa
Like an awestruck idiot, I couldn't stop staring. In the back entryway, I let out a long, unsteady breath. "Wow."
Ryder had found a hammer in Maisie's back shed, along with some boards he'd been nailing across the damaged doorway.
He paused in mid-swing. "What?"
My lips suddenly felt dry. "I didn't know hammering could be so distracting." I meant it, too, because what I really wanted was for Ryder to be hammering me.
No tools required.
But there he was, doing what I'd asked – bracing Maisie's door to make it safe for the night, promising to have it fixed as good as new in the morning.
It seemed impossible. The frame was shattered. The door was splintered. And the hinges were barely holding on.
The only upside was that during the entire time I'd lived here, I had never once seen Maisie use this door. She always came in and out through the front, probably because that's where she stored her bike.
When Ryder returned to hammering, I couldn't stop myself from saying, "And by distracting, I mean sexy."
Ryder stopped and lowered the hammer to his side. With a crooked smile, he asked, "Are you trying to kill me?"
I let out a small, helpless laugh. "It's not my fault. You're the one looking all tempting."
It was true. He'd shrugged out of his jacket, leaving him in damp jeans and a dark shirt that clung faintly from the rain, outlining his muscular shoulders and chest.
I was still wearing the borrowed clothes – Ryder's shorts and that T-shirt, both too soggy to be comfortable. And yes, I could've changed, but it seemed incredibly unfair to make him suffer in wet clothes while I was comfy and dry.
So here I was – wet, cold, and burning inside.
With a bemused shake of his head, Ryder returned to his hammering. As he worked, candlelight skimmed over his form, catching the lines of his forearms, the flex of his hands, and the shine of his rain-soaked hair.
With every passing moment, it was getting harder to remember why, exactly, we weren't already upstairs.
I said, "Maybe I should help." I'd already offered once, but he'd turned me down, telling me I wasn't the one who broke it.
This time, he didn't even pause. "Nope."
"But it would go faster with two."
He laughed. "That's what you think. And you're the one who said work before play."
"Hey, I was trying to be responsible."
At this, he stopped hammering and gave me a long, lingering look – one so intense, I swear, my panties almost went up in flames.
Luckily, they were too damp to catch fire – and it had nothing to do with the rain. I moved closer to say, "Please tell me you're done."
"I'm done with the door." His lips curved into a slow smile. "But not with you."
I smiled. "Oh, yeah?"
He set down the hammer before taking my hand. "Be careful what you ask for."
"Who's asking?" I laughed. "I'm demanding."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
Forget talking. I threw my arms around him and kissed him, hard and hungry, like I'd been wanting to for the impossibly long time it had taken him to fix the door.
Okay, so in truth, it had taken him only a few minutes, but I felt like a kid at Christmas, eager to unwrap the only thing I wanted.
And what did I want?
Him.
Definitely.