Chapter 5 #2
“One woman, only bedded one. I’ve courted one shop girl and one seamstress. Kissed one—just once. And patronized one actress a handful of times.”
Her expression softened, eyes searching his. Whatever she saw in them had her straightening, her shoulders dropping. “Couldn’t retain their interest?”
“No.”
“Pardon?” she demanded, brows furrowed.
He took a step back and leaned against the doorframe of the shed, one leg crossed over the other. “No, I couldn’t retain their interest. It never felt right—paying attention to some other girl.”
Those rich eyes widened, her gaze trapped. His arms ached to wrap across his chest, but he resisted, barely. He cleared his throat. “They were too nice to me.”
The corner of Bella’s lip twitched, just once, as her flush deepened. “Yes, well… Despite your many flaws, you’ve always taken constructive criticism well.”
“Constructive criticism? You called me a knuckle-headed lout.”
“I’ve called you worse than that.”
A grin teased at the corners of his mouth. “I know, but it would be inappropriate to repeat the more colorful insults in front of a lady.”
“Even the lady’s own insults?”
“Especially the lady’s own—filthy fucking mouth that one.”
Her giggle was bright and melodic. The chime settled into his chest, warming him.
“We ought to get started. Eliza certainly won’t be improved by tomorrow— I suspect we’ll be conscripted again.”
“She’ll not? How do you know?”
“Woman’s intuition…” A too-knowing inflection rang through the words.
A grumble rolled through his chest. “Bleeding hell, woman, no riddles. What’s wrong with her?”
“It’s not my secret to tell.” The sentiment was earnest, but her expression was one of smug satisfaction.
“Do you delight in being difficult?”
“I prefer mysterious,” she said, a low, sensual pitch to her voice.
Bella was a great many things. Some men would find her mysterious. But West fancied he read her rather well—and that tone was affected.
So were the dark eyes roving over his form. He couldn’t resist flexing his biceps in that way he used to when they were young—the way that never failed to make her flush. Her gaze flicked to the movement, and her pink tongue darted between rose-colored lips—that hadn’t been affected.
Attraction had never been their problem, though—not that they were in a position to have a problem.
He cleared his throat. “How many do we need?”
“How many what?”
“Little signs.”
“Oh,” she said in a brisk tone. She halved the distance between them in a single step, then halved it again until she was right beside him. Long fingers dipped into the neck of her gown—bleeding hell—and pulled out a folded slip of parchment in a motion that would haunt him the rest of his days.
He bit his tongue against the growl that bubbled up his throat, regretting his position, now trapped against the doorframe.
She pressed the parchment into his hands—the paper still warm from her flesh. His cock twitched with interest. Apparently, his prick was entirely unaware that it was being manipulated. But he’d never been in control of that particular appendage in Bella’s presence.
Amber, spice, and citrus surrounded him. He allowed himself the luxury of drawing her scent into his lungs once more. The last time he’d been this close, had this privilege, the copper tang of blood overpowered her essence. That memory cooled his lust slightly.
He unfolded the parchment, hoping she wouldn’t notice the slight trembling of his fingers.
“She wants fourteen signs. Four larger for directions, three medium for events, and seven smaller—for the booths,” Bella said. She shifted on her feet, ensuring that the soft curve of her bosom brushed against his forearm.
West swallowed his response. “How big?”
She arched a brow and pointedly dropped her gaze to his waist then trailed it back up. “Not big enough.”
Other, lesser men might have taken offense at such an insinuation—those men had not witnessed how this breathtaking woman’s eyes had fluttered when she saw his cock for the first time—the only time. Her complaint aimed to rankle him, nothing more.
“Funny.”
“I thought so too.” Her smile was cheeky, a little studied, and entirely beautiful.
Still, she held her hands up about two feet apart and then out the length of her wingspan to demonstrate the size for the larger signs. West nodded and gathered the lumber, grateful that Ben had at least prepared the boards at some point. He spread a piece of wood across the sawhorses.
“Four of those?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ll paint the directions if you risk your fingers.” She held out her hands, waggling her digits in an adorable demonstrative dance. He directed his smile toward the ground. Those moments were rare—when Bella forgot herself and just existed. He lived for them.
“I’m certain Eliza will thank you for it. Besides, you’re trouble enough with your hairpin. Cannot imagine what you could do with a saw.”
A queer expression crossed her face and her gaze dropped to the lumber between them. “My hairpin was a casualty of last spring.”