Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
And she was breathtaking.
“Morning,” she replied, not looking worried by my tone. “Oh—coffee. I don’t imagine you’d share a cup with me? I haven’t gone to get one yet.”
“What the hell is Miller doing here? Like that?” I added in disbelief. He never went to strangers, yet there he was snuggled up to the annoying tenant.
She smiled. “I was sitting here, drying my hair in the sun, and he appeared. And you said he didn’t like cats—he and Barney are already fast friends!” she tsked.
The traitor certainly looked content. His injured paw was resting on her knee, his head lolling against her torso as he gazed up at her, his tail thumping a steady beat on the wood.
All I could do was growl.
I heaved a sigh for good measure.
Casey regarded me patiently. “Are you going to make me beg?”
Instantly, another image appeared in my head. Her naked on my bed, spread-eagled and desperate. Begging.
I had to shake my head to clear it.
“What?”
“For coffee. Please.”
Even I couldn’t deny her caffeine. I set down my cup and headed to my kitchen, pouring her one. I had no idea how she took it, so I added some cream and carried it back, handing it to her. “No sugar,” I muttered.
“It’s perfect,” she enthused, shutting her eyes as she sipped the hot liquid. “I need to go buy kitchen stuff.”
I was fascinated by the way her throat moved as she swallowed. The satisfied little moan of happiness as she took another sip.
I wanted to hear that moan again.
In my ear as I fucked her.
I almost fell off the steps at that thought. I stumbled a little, righting myself, and she glanced up. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I replied tersely. “I want to get those cabinets done.” I walked past her, heading to the kitchen.
“Shouldn’t you ask your tenant before walking in?” she called.
“You haven’t paid rent yet,” I replied.
Her laughter amused me, and I grinned, glad she couldn’t see me. I stopped short in the kitchen, though.
The cabinets were built, sitting in place, ready to be installed. The door opened behind me. “Surprise!”
I turned to her. “What did you do?”
“I built the cabinets to help you.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
I remembered the noises I’d heard, and I cursed myself for not checking on her.
“You should have left them. I know how to build them correctly.”
She slammed a hand on her hip. “I’ve built cabinets before. It’s like constructing a box.”
“If they’re not plumb, they won’t work.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You think because I have boobs I can’t build a cabinet properly? Or is it my vagina that you think renders me incapable? Check them.”
I grabbed my tools, trying to get her voice saying boobs and vagina out of my head. And tamp down the desire to ask her to show either of them to me.
I used the level and T square to check the cabinets. They were perfect. I opened the doors and made sure the drawer slides worked. Everything was done correctly. I grunted as the cabinet doors closed easily.
She tapped her sneaker-covered foot. “Well?”
“Good job,” I said grudgingly.
“I know. I can help you move them into place and put the countertop on.”
“It’s heavy.”
“I’m strong.”
I couldn’t help my snort. “Really.”
Her eyes narrowed again, and she crossed her arms. “Yes, really.”
“I could lift you with one arm,” I said for no reason.
“And I could bring you to your knees with one kick,” she replied.
Her response was unexpected and, for some reason, amused me. I barked out a shout of laughter and held up my hands in supplication. “I’m sure you could, Katharine Casey.”
“Are we doing this, Thorne, or do you want to stand around and trade insults all day?”
Her taunts amused me, but if she wanted to help, I decided I was going to let her help.
“Let’s do this.”
Three hours later, the lower cabinets were almost all in place. To my shock, Casey followed my directions, and we worked well together. I checked the level on the last cabinet, shaking my head.
“We need a shim. Right side.”
She bent, and I lifted the corner as she slid one into place and tapped it in until I grunted. “Good.”
I stepped back, miscalculating where she was, and tripped over her, falling backward in a tangle of arms and legs. I had noticed how clumsy I seemed to be around her, which seemed odd, given what I did for a living. I was up and down ladders constantly. Racing with hoses and heavy gear. Holding on to the back of a truck at times. Jumping on and off it.
Rarely a misstep.
But this morning, I had almost fallen off the deck, tripped over her, and hit my thumb with the hammer—twice.
“Goddammit,” I muttered, peering up at her. I was flat on my back, her draped over my chest. She lifted her head, meeting my eyes, hers dancing.