Chapter 6—Aspen #2
Aspen needed to figure out how to act like the poised and confident businesswoman she professed herself to be when Wolfe was around the shop.
So what if his arctic-blue eyes caused her stomach to flutter and her panties to dampen. Channing Tatum caused a similar physical response in Aspen’s body.
Yes, but Channing-freaking-Tatum wasn’t sauntering around your bakery like Wolfe with the tightest ass and thickest thighs you’ve ever seen grace your shop.
Aspen took the opportunity to watch Wolfe quickly and effortlessly attach the vinyl baseboard that he said would be more functional and easier to clean.
Thank goodness her mixer was on a timer because she found herself riveted to Wolfe sprawled across the floor to affix the baseboard. The muscles forming his exquisite biceps flexed and danced all to themselves as he ensured the adhesive covering the backside of the new baseboard stayed in place.
“...easy to clean without warping the material like the wood did.”
Aspen could literally feel her eyes twirl in a hypnotized fashion like that damn Cuckoo bird from the cereal ad.
Wolfe’s explanation ignored. In a last-ditch effort to rejoin reality, Aspen collected a bit of skin on her forearm and pinched herself—hard—to force herself to snap out of her reverie of Wolfe sprawled on the floor, working in her shop.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the mixer,” Aspen said, and puffed up with a bit of pride that her voice sounded somewhat in control. “What did you say?”
“I said that I used a trowel to apply the mastic, so there’s no way the vinyl will lift. It will also be much easier to clean and far less porous than the warped wood that tripped you up, giving you a one-way ticket to land on your ass.”
His contractor-y words sounded Greek to Aspen, but the deep baritone of his sultry voice washed over her in sexy waves.
Wait, what?
“I didn’t fall on my ass,” Aspen snapped her retort.
“And I took a look at your air conditioning unit,” Wolfe ignored her and continued.
“From the lack of cold air pushing through your shop, along with the clunking sounds periodically beating through the system, I’d say the unit is about ready to call it quits.
I’ll check with a guy I know to see if I can increase the system’s output with a little work. ”
Instantly, Aspen felt as heavy as the giant oven housed in the back of the bakery. “This is too much,” she whispered “Connor? Wolfe? Gosh, I don’t even know what to call you except my knight in shining armor. It’s just too much. I simply can’t ask you to do this for me.”
“First, you can call me anything you want, BB,” Wolfe purred, promptly knocking Aspen from her tenuous hold of sanity as her mind instantly wandered down the path of the ridiculous Viking fantasy. “Everyone calls me Wolfe, except for Mia. She sometimes slips and says Uncle Connor, but not often.”
Aspen took in the sharp lines of Wolfe’s jaw, his cheekbones, his muscles for miles, and realized she didn’t want to be like everyone else.
In some crazed alternate universe, she wanted something different to connect her with this gruff but generous man who stirred a symphony of emotions inside of her.
“I think I like Connor,” Aspen said sheepishly and looked down at his sexy construction boots, unwilling to meet his stare.
Were construction boots sexy? On Connor? Indeed. Hell, moon boots would be sexy on this vexing Viking.
“All right, BB. Connor it is.”
He loaded the last of his tools into a plastic painter’s bucket and then disengaged the buckle from his tool belt. This had Aspen longing for other, more interesting buttons and buckles on his faded Levi’s to be magically opened.
Aspen cleared her throat, trying to chase away her sex-laced thoughts.
“So, let’s figure out how to settle up for your time. Your materials. Your generosity. All of it.” Aspen wildly waved her arms trying to demonstrate how much he’d done around the shop in such a short period.
Connor shook his head and the ends of his rich, golden hair brushed against the top of his shoulders. Not as violently as they did in Aspen’s epic Viking fantasy, but enough for her to feel that squish of attraction pool in her pelvis.
“I don’t need your money, BB,” Connor set his tool belt on the counter.
“Working construction gives my mind and body a break from training and... other things.”
Aspen wasn’t daft. She knew he made bank playing hockey, but she didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness.
“But I’m certain you have tasks around your house that need completed. Hell, I can’t even bribe you with sweets.”
“No. No sweets,” he bit out, his eyebrows pinched together. Shaking his head, he paused a moment before continuing. “How about I take you to dinner?”
“Well, that certainly doesn’t meet the criteria of me repaying the debt I owe you, now does it?
” Aspen rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet to distract herself from smoothing the line that gathered on Connor’s forehead.
“I know, I can fix you something here and we can eat at one of the highboy tables by the window or even outside.”
“Nah, I don’t want all of downtown Denver to walk by and watch us eat.”
“A bit of an exaggeration, but I get it. How about I take you to dinner?” Aspen remembered she had a two-for-one Groupon offer for an awesome food truck tucked away in a neighborhood a few blocks away from the buzz of downtown.
“I know the perfect place for fish tacos. Super-clean eating so you don’t get sidetracked from your training. ”
“Is it quiet?”
Odd question.
“Yes. And totally out of the way.”
If picnic tables set up near a small park counted.
“What time should I pick you up?” Connor asked and began gathering his toolbelt and bucket, the line that pinched his brow and creased his forehead relaxing.
It was at that point Aspen realized their conversation shifted from paying him back for his work in the shop to what some might consider a date.
“It’s not a date,” Aspen blurted out.
A predatory smirk slightly curved one side of Connor’s lips. “It’s anything you want it to be, Boss Baker.”
“Well, it’s not a date,” she said smartly. “I just want to take you to dinner as a gesture of thanks.”
“Okay.”
Okay was such a simple word, but Aspen wasn’t na?ve enough to think Connor’s ‘okay’ didn’t have much more meaning than he relayed.
“Here, put your phone number in my cell and I’ll text you the address so we can meet there,” Aspen fished her phone from her apron and thrusted it against his chest.
Yep. It was just as hard, just as wide as she remembered.
With the sexy smirk remaining in place, Connor set his tools down once again and entered his contact into Aspen’s phone before handing it back.
“It’s a date.”
It’s not a date,” Aspen pressed, sounding more like a schoolmarm. “It’s just dinner.”
“Whatever you say, BB.”
With that declaration, Connor collected his materials and made his way to the bakery’s front door.
Of course Aspen wasn’t checking out his perfect ass and perfect long, thick thighs, all tucked into a pair of perfect jeans.
“Way better than Channing Tatum,” Aspen mumbled under her breath.
Connor stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder. “Channing’s a cool dude, but there’s no comparison with me. Later, BB.”
With that, the door closed and the bells above the frame jangled a soft tune as Connor walked toward his truck.
Aspen laid her head atop the Formica-covered counter with a little more force than necessary. She hoped she knocked a little sense into her crazed, coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs brain.
“Idiot.”