Chapter 8
West
I wasn’t a religious guy, but I was pretty sure some god somewhere was laughing at me.
I’d never in my life been so captivated by a woman as I was Presley Holiday. I didn’t even normally use words like captivated. I was consumed by thoughts of her, haunted by the desire to touch her, taste her. And I was stuck working on her construction projects for damn near all my waking hours.
It was torture. Sublime, dreadful torture.
Her home project had high stakes. My future depended on its success. Her coffee shop project would be an unexpected mini windfall for my finances. Both would make a difference in my girls’ lives if I didn’t fuck everything up by doing something dumb with the client.
On Sunday, I’d spent hours with Presley at her empty shop, measuring, discussing materials, drafting plans. I’d put together a timeline based on when I could get supplies in and secure childcare.
Monday I’d pulled a permit. I knew Sybil Wilson, the building inspector, well and had already had a conversation with her. She and I went way back, plus she was a coffee addict. I was optimistic she’d work with us to expedite things.
My mom and her husband, Thomas, who lived in Nashville, had agreed to take the girls for a few weekends to give me concentrated work time, which would enable Presley to open her shop sooner and me to get paid faster. Maybe I could swing a road trip with the girls before the school year started.
Today was Wednesday. The guys had gone to pick up lunch at Tripz, the convenience store where everything was guaranteed to be unhealthy and overpriced.
I’d brought a sandwich from home, as I often did, and was sitting in my SUV in Presley’s driveway with the window down, listening to a baseball podcast.
Presley had been gone for most of the morning, which should’ve made it easier for me to concentrate as we pulled electrical wires throughout the main floor.
Paul was a licensed electrician, so he was in charge of the electric.
Damn good thing, because I couldn’t stop glancing around for the homeowner every few minutes like a puppy looking for treats.
I stuffed the last of my sandwich in my mouth and laughed at a comment the sports commentator made about the Yankees.
“Hey, West,” Presley said at my open window, scaring the shit out of me. “If I needed someone to work on my boathouse, is that something your company could do?”
I swallowed my food, congratulating myself for not choking on it, and took a big swig of water. “Afternoon,” I said. “Didn’t hear you coming.”
“Oh. Sorry about that. I parked at the end of the driveway so I’d be out of your way.”
I took my keys out of the ignition, cutting off the podcast, then got out of the vehicle, getting a good look at her as she stepped back.
She wore a fitted plain-white short-sleeve shirt that wrapped to one side and had a deep V-neck, revealing a tantalizing bit of cleavage.
The shirt was cropped a good inch or so above the waistband of her button-fly denim shorts.
Once again, I imagined running my rough fingers over the soft skin at her waist before undoing those buttons one by one…
I shut the SUV door harder than necessary and told myself to stop with the dirty thoughts. Forcing my mind back to her question, I tried to catch up. I was learning that Presley’s mind never slowed down.
“What kind of work on your boathouse?” I asked as we walked through the garage to enter the house. This was the first I’d heard of anything to do with the boathouse.
She shrugged. “The wood inside is in bad shape. I think it needs to be refinished? And that flat roof… It would make a perfect entertaining space. I think it was intended to be a patio, but there aren’t stairs going up there. The previous owners didn’t use it. I’m just wondering about my options.”
“So you want to use your boathouse for entertaining?”
“I want to use my boathouse for a boat.”
I swung my head to her. “I didn’t know you were getting a boat.”
“I’m not sure yet. The boathouse is part of the consideration. I’d also need to learn to drive a boat.”
I chuckled. I couldn’t fathom how much money she must have for learning to drive a boat to be a bigger deterrent than figuring out how to pay for it. This rich girl was so far out of my league it wasn’t funny.
And yet I was dying to sample that skin at her waist.
“Are you laughing at me?” she said, grinning good-naturedly. “I’ve never driven a boat. Do you know how?”
“I do.”
“Where did you learn?”
“I grew up good friends with Jagger McNamara. His family owns—”
“McNamara Marina,” she cut in, nodding. “Got it.”
“They offer boat safety courses and lessons.”
“Perfect. But back to the boathouse…”
“I’ve got ten more minutes of lunch break. Let’s go take a look.”
If we could add on to this project, that would look good to Levi and maybe win me some points toward that promotion.
She led me through the house, out the patio door, and down the path to the shore.
There were overgrown paver stones leading to the boathouse but no actual walkway, which had me agreeing that the previous owners must not have used it much.
I made myself pay attention to the stones instead of Presley’s ass, but not before noticing the tantalizing heart shape of it in those little shorts.
She unlocked the door and pushed it open with a loud, slow creak. Several steps led down to the deck level that was a couple of feet above the water line. A closed garage door on the lake side let filtered daylight in, enough so I could see from the top of the stairs that the wood was in bad shape.
“Is there electric?” I spotted a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.
“It’s wired, but I need to change the bulb. The garage door is electric.”
She reached back by the door we’d entered and hit the button to open it, allowing more light in. I followed her down the steps.
The boathouse was no frills with room for a decent-sized craft, the deck forming a vee similar to the shape of a hull, built on what appeared to be a permanent steel-pile dock foundation.
The wood needed more than refinishing. Between being old and not being treated correctly or regularly, the floor looked to be rotting in places.
Presley walked toward the cutout for the boat, peering at the water that lapped below. “I’d love to turn the roof into a patio directly over the water. I could add an outdoor sectional, a dining table, some tiki torches…”
“Since it’s been wired, you might be able to do an outdoor kitchen,” I said.
“Oh, maybe a wet bar? Could I get water out here?”
“We’d have to see if there’s a water line.” I bent down to inspect the decking more closely. “You’ll need to replace all this wood,” I said as I pushed against a section, and it gave a little. I stood, alarmed at how bad it was. “This isn’t stable at all. We need to get back from the edges—”
Presley took a step toward me, then let out a yelp as the board beneath her cracked and shifted. I instinctively reached for her and pulled her into me. Fortunately the board hadn’t broken all the way through; otherwise she might be in the drink right now.
As it was, she was facing me, chest to chest, because I’d instinctively dragged her up against me.
We stood there catching our breath. My heart pounded like a jackhammer, fifty percent from the scare, fifty percent because…Jesus. Presley Holiday was in my arms.
Part of my brain was screaming that I should let her go, but when her hands rested on my chest and she peered up into my eyes with those pretty blues, that call went ignored.
When her gaze flitted down to my lips, all bets were off, and my dick went as hard as the steel piles beneath us.
All logical thought drained from my brain as I registered the slight sheen of her tempting lips and the way they were barely parted, as if in invitation. Ignoring the few brain cells that knew this was wrong, I leaned in and touched my lips to hers.
She was all softness and sweetness and femininity, smelling of flowers and lightness. She let out a little moan as she kissed me back, revving me up higher, hotter.
Presley was my opposite in every way. And yet her touch enflamed my blood like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
I deepened the kiss, running my tongue along the seam of her lips. She opened to me instantly, as if there was nothing she wanted more. Our tongues touched, swirled, tasted, tangled, the connection like an explosion that sent a throbbing need through my veins and straight down to my dick.
She pulled my head to hers, telling me she was all in. I slid my hands down her back, drawing her into my hard body, as if I could get her any closer. I wanted to devour her, consume her, lay her out on the floor and pound into her—
Shit.
I fought to pull back, put a few inches between our mouths, breathing hard, stunned at my urges. It was as if she turned me into an animal, which was fitting. Next to her, I was rough, coarse, clumsy, reduced to primitive thoughts.
Presley caught her lower lip with her teeth as her mouth curved into a half smile. She lifted her heavy lids and peered up at me, her eyes bright, alive, looking not at all regretful.
That didn’t make kissing her okay.
I tried to find words, but all I could manage was a low growl as I looked down at her gorgeous face, those pink lips, wanting to do that again.
“Thanks for saving me,” she whispered, still grinning.
That brought me back to reality enough to remember the floor we stood on wasn’t safe. “We’re lucky we didn’t both fall through,” I managed.
With my hands at her waist, I lifted her, pivoted, and set her on the bottom step, trying not to notice the feel of her bare skin beneath my palms. She weighed hardly anything.
“The stairs are okay?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t assume that,” I said, “but it looks like the slats closest to the water are the worst.” I took out my phone, squatted down, and turned on the flashlight to inspect the wood more closely, trying to concentrate on the task.
Trying to ignore the way my blood still pounded away from my brain instead of to it.
“It’s very valiant of you to whisk me here to semisafety, but shouldn’t you stay off the wood too?” she asked. “I’m guessing you weigh more than me. All muscle, of course.”
I could hear her grin without looking up at her.
“I know how to swim if I fall through,” I told her, creeping carefully toward the garage door, assessing the wood, coaching my heart to slow the hell down.
Thoughts were creeping in, making it difficult to focus on my inspection. Thoughts like, What the godforsaken hell were you thinking to kiss her?
Staying to the outer slats along the exterior walls, I made my way around where the bow would go, then to the other side, finding the same results there.
Presley moved up the stairs to the landing inside the door, her eyes on me.
When my pulse had slowed nearly back to normal range and my dick had calmed the hell down, I went to the stairs, headed up, and stopped two from the top, putting me at eye level with Presley. That landing would be tight quarters for both of us. I needed distance, not closeness.
“The floor needs to be replaced completely,” I said, summoning my professional tone. “The walls probably just repainted. I’ll take a look at the outside to be sure.”
“Could your company do that?”
Without looking directly at her, as if she was the sun and could burn my retinas, I answered, “We could probably fit it in while we work on the rest of the house. Might take us a couple extra days is all. Look, Presley, I was out of line.” I gestured over my shoulder as I dared to meet her gaze.
“Kissing you was inappropriate and wrong. I’m sorry. ”
Her pretty features dipped in a frown. “I’m not. Please don’t ruin it by apologizing. That was…too spectacular to apologize.”
I swallowed, trying not to get lost in her imploring blue eyes. Trying not to be pulled in by her words. Spectacular. She thought that kiss was spectacular, and I sure as hell couldn’t disagree.
“You’re my client,” I said, my voice rough.
She tilted her head, her expression lightening. “Does your company have a policy against kissing clients?”
I chuckled. “My company is a small construction business that doesn’t pay lawyers to write up official policies, no. But common sense—”
“That felt like something that shouldn’t be ruined by common sense if you ask me.”
I studied her, tried to argue. The words I knew I should say didn’t come out.
“I liked it,” she said confidently. “But I don’t want you to lose your job—”
“I wouldn’t lose my job.” Levi would have something to say about it, but he wouldn’t can me.
I thought about explaining the promotion I was working toward, but I kept it to myself. A raise of a few thousand bucks a year might be life-changing to me, but that money wouldn’t mean a thing to her. Not to a woman who’d paid cash for a lakeshore home.
She stepped closer, putting us mere inches apart. I held my ground. Hell, I was dying to pull her into me and do it all over again, but I was a grown damn adult. I could control my urges. Most of the time.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she said, “but it seems like we could have fun together.” Her brows shot up with the word fun. “Off the clock, of course. And no one would have to know.”
She hit the garage door button to close it, then opened the door we’d come in through. She flicked a flirty smile at me, and it was all I could do to keep my hands at my sides and not yank her back into me.
“The decision is yours, West,” she said as she headed out into the sunshine.
I stood there, stunned for a few seconds, then went up the last two steps and out the door. I knew damn well what the right thing to do was, and I was determined to do it—to keep my hands off her.
But I sure as hell was gonna have problems keeping my mind on the job for the rest of the day as I tried to wipe away the memory of what it felt like to kiss her.