Page 24 of Look My Way (Bloody Desires #1)

Zavier

My drill bores through the wood, my hands moving too fast, and I graze my hand.

It’s nothing but a small nick. They aren’t uncommon for the type of work I’m in, but they’re also more common when my mind is sidetracked.

Liam distracted me enough when he was in a different house, so to have him sitting right across from me is making it that much harder to focus.

Peering over at him, I smile as he bobs his head to the song blasting from his headphones.

His shoulders move side to side, and then he freezes when he catches me watching, eyes as big as saucers.

Clicking on the right ear bud, he removes it and leans his head a little to the right.

“I don’t think you’re getting paid to stand there and hold a drill while you watch me dance in my chair. ”

“Are you sure?” Eyes squinting from the sun’s harsh light, I press my lips into a grin. “Because it feels like that’s what’s happening.” He should be used to me watching him by now. Is it different when I do it during the day? Is that another thing he’s not quite ready for?

Tossing his head back, he laughs and widens his legs in his chair. “I don’t think you’re going to get many boxes done in a timely manner if that’s the case.”

“And what constitutes as a timely manner?” I click my tongue, and his right fingers squeeze around the armrest of his chair.

“How long does a job like this usually take you?”

“It all depends. Sometimes a week. Two when I’m unable to work every day.”

“Two, huh?” His lips quiver as he sips his lemonade.

“Yeah.” My lips break into a smile and I unbutton my shirt, letting it fall to my feet.

His eyes lock in on the tensing muscles of my arms as I lift another piece of wood.

“Never three?”

Dipping my head, I brush the front of my falling hair back and flit my gaze at him. “There are always exceptions to the rule.”

The bottom of his chair scratches the ground as he wiggles in place. “Such as you needing to watch what I’m doing in between working to ensure you do a top-notch job?”

“Exactly.” My lips stay pressed in a smile, my eyes never leaving him as he sips his lemonade.

That wandering pink tongue of his works its way up and down the straw.

Yeah, we can pretend that watching him in between using the power tools will keep my head on straight enough to complete the job properly while also not putting myself in the damn hospital.

He’s telling me what he wants, and it’s taken too long to reach this point for me to set us back to where we were. I’ll make this work for him. Whatever keeps him smiling at me like that. His stomach growling interrupts my thoughts and my brows meet. “You sound like you need to eat something.”

His face flushes and he rubs his belly. “Yeah. That wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Pressing both hands to the sides of the chair, his feet flatten on the ground. “I’m going to fix a sandwich. You want one?”

“As long as it’s not tuna.”

Laughing, he rolls his eyes and stands from his seat. “That’s not all I eat, you know.”

“Hey, I gotta make sure. You going to wear your pretty pink apron while you make them?”

His face is beet red and he tugs at one side of his hair, gaze drifting away from me. “I don’t have a pink apron.”

He writes a lot of himself into Lex, changing small details here and there but never straying too far. “No? What color is yours then?”

Teeth chewing on his bottom lip, he looks further off to the side. “Baby blue, with something silly written on the front.”

“Another gift from your sister?”

He inhales deeply, not exhaling until his eyes are back on mine. “Yeah.”

“I bet it’s cute.”

His lips shake and he looks down, appearing bashful. “It’s just an apron.”

“Yeah, on anyone else, but I’m sure it’s way more than that on you. Especially when you have nothing underneath it, like Lex when he cooked dinner for his fiancé while his stalker watched through the window.”

“You’ve reached that far in the book?” His words come out broken.

“Sí, carino. I’m way past it actually, and we can continue from there if you’d like.”

“What do you mean?” His bottom lip turns inward, nose twitching.

“I think you know exactly what I mean. It’s okay. You don’t have to say it out loud right now. You will when you’re ready. You can show me instead. You’ll know . . . whenever it feels safe for you to.”

Fumbling with the hem of his shirt, his toes turn inward, and he looks perplexed. “Going to go start on those sandwiches. I’ll bring them out when I’m done.”

“Sounds good.” That means he won’t be wearing the apron when he makes me lunch today.

He didn’t have to say the words for me to know when he’ll have it on.

In his book, Lex, the main character, wears it to cook dinner for his fiancé, knowing the man couldn’t care less what he was wearing or not wearing underneath.

It didn’t matter because it wasn’t for him.

Lifting the front of my shirt to wipe my brow, I go back to drilling. I take my time, attaching each piece of wood, remeasuring everything twice and taking unnecessary extra steps. Anything I can do to make this one-week job a three-week one.

Getting lost in the sound of my drill, I don’t hear Liam return back outside. He shouts my name, holding two plates in his hand as he squints his eyes.

“Sorry.” I shut off the drill, wiping my face again and shaking the front of my shirt. It’s a lot hotter when I’m no longer focused on something other than the sun biting at my skin. “I kinda lose myself in work sometimes.”

“That’s okay.” The corners of his mouth curl and he sets both plates down.

Setting down my tools, I rub my hands on my jeans and pull out some wipes from my bag.

“You’re very prepared. What else do you have in that handy bag of yours?”

“You’ll see, all in good time.” I wink.

Snorting, he sits down and reaches for his plate.

I walk toward him, sliding the chair close to his before sitting down, and like the last time we ate together, I rest my hand palm up on my leg, my pinky rubbing over his.

His breath hitches and his left hand stays still while his right one lifts the first half of his sandwich.

It’s not until he’s working on the second that he lays his hand on mine.

Minutes later his fingers squeeze over my knuckles, and we finish eating in silence.

He hums between each bite, and even when he’s done devouring his last chip, he keeps holding my hand.

I don’t go back to work until he’s ready to let go, and I occasionally sneak a glance at him writing while I work for another hour on my first planter box, taking as much as he’s willing to give me while the sun is out.