Page 16

JULIA

My father was an actor who did handyman work.

That fact notwithstanding, fuck this guy.

His father is a convicted felon and rapist and extortionist and compulsive liar who’s arranged judicial obstruction, executive robbery, and administrative murder.

He wrought economic destruction for fun and committed war crimes without a war.

And even for all that, his father’s still and always will be a mushroom-dicked, pants-shitting, little fucking crybaby bitch.

So yeah, maybe I’m a handygirl because my handsome and talented dad fixed things when he needed money, but if that’s the case, what does that make Duke?

Besides the guy I have to invoice at the end of this?

“I’m up tight because I’m tired . And tomorrow morning, I have to fix a garage door by myself because your contractor doesn’t know how to use a level.”

“You’re very nasty, Julia.” He starts to get up off the bed and all I can think is that I’m out of here. This has the potential to go from pain in the ass to real pain.

I have an unfinished punchlist. I hate leaving it. But the look on this guy’s face… I don’t trust it.

There’s a loud crash outside, where Caspian’s been hiding. I freeze, because right now, I’m not so worried about getting caught with a guest. If he’s hurt, I’m going to be mad at myself. He’s a screwdriver, and he may have a lifetime guarantee, but it’s my job to take care of him.

Duke leaps onto the bed, shoes and all, and jumps in front of the sliding door, but overshoots and slams his shoulder into the wall, buying my screwdriver a split second to get away.

He shoves open the door. I join him outside, ready to get between him and Caspian.

One of the cast-iron chairs is tipped over. That’s it, for all the commotion it made.

Nothing. No man. Not a rustle or snapped twig. Just crickets, trees, and shadows.

“Hey!” Duke calls into the woods. “This is trespassing!” He puts his hand on my shoulder. Fucking gross. “We’ll get him.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. The wind or whatever.” I turn to go back into the house, but also to get his hand off me. He’s looking down at me with one finger up.

“Better safe than sorry.” He gets out his cell phone.

“It was probably a deer or a hedgehog or something.”

“Bruce!” he says when the call connects. “We got a lookie loo. Sixth quadrant.”

He storms out of the house before I can find out how a quadrant has more than four.

Eyes darting around for a stunning naked man, I hiss, “Stay down.” I don’t see him and nothing moves. Good. Cool. He’s fine. Or he’s a hand tool again.

At the crack of dawn, I’m going home. This did not work out. The first ferry to the mainland is at four thirty in the morning. I have to call Tonya and tell her not to come. We’ll just fix the truck again. And again.

I’m barely inside when I realize I can’t leave without Caspian.

The guy is buck naked. There’s no record of who he is. He’s trespassing, for sure.

But mostly? He’s my screwdriver. Mine. I’m responsible for him. Nothing’s going to happen to him on my watch.

I go back outside.

“Caspian!” I don’t shout, but kind of whisper loudly.

Nothing.

Fuck.

“Caspian!” I go into the trees. “Caspian, you fucking tool!”

Deeper in the forest, I hear dogs barking. Big, mean dogs. They’ll have a field day biting a man with no clothes. It will be awful, and these lawless freaks will just let it go to its logical conclusion.

“Come out! I can’t leave you behind.”

The lights of the house get smaller on the other side of the tree line.

“Caspian, please!”

I whip around when I hear him behind me. “I’m sorry, Julia.”

His voice opens a valve and all the tension exits my body. Barely even looking at his magnificent fucking body, I throw my arms around him. Then I realize where we are.

“You big stupid! Why’d you go so far?” I push him away. A leaf sticks to my hand. My clothes are covered in dirt and grime.

“I didn’t want to get you into trouble.”

I brush forest scrap off my T-shirt. “Jesus, you’re filthy.”

He shrugs. “I was hiding.”

“Come back and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

“For what?”

“What do you mean, ‘for what’? Your human fucking dignity.”

I grab his hand and pull him toward the house, but he pulls back. But the dogs are barking, so I yank harder. This time, he doesn’t resist.

“How am I getting out?” he says as we walk.

“Shush!”

“I saw the security from the golf cart. I’m not supposed to be here. I don’t even have any clothes.”

He’s right, but it’s irrelevant. I got him in. I can get him out.

Once inside, I slap the door shut, lock it, and turn out the lights. My bedroom smells like Duke’s cologne. Gross. And I have to keep the windows and doors closed or he’ll come back.

“I can’t get a man out of here,” I say. “But I sure as hell can get a screwdriver out.”

I go into the dark bathroom, letting my eyes adjust to the light from moon in the window. The electric lights are staying off. I don’t want Bruce and his team of dogs to think I’m awake.

“How are you going to change me back?” Caspian asks.

“The same way I changed you the first time.” I turn on the shower. “Get in.”

The moonlight is just enough for me to see him raise an eyebrow. “If you insist.”

“I do. But I’m not laying the forest floor if you know what I mean.”

He gets into the shower. I snap the frosted glass door shut and rush out to my bag.

I have no idea if he’s got living sperm, and he did already come inside me that first time.

But now I have all my faculties and there’s no reason to push my luck.

I’m pretty sure I don’t want to get knocked up by a hand tool.

Condom in hand, I return to the bathroom, strip down, and get into the shower.

I can smell my shampoo on him. He’s washed his hair already. I put the condom on the little shelf next to the soap.

“Okay—” I start to say something that seems relevant, but he takes my face in his hands and kisses me.

His mouth tastes and feels like the apples he devoured. Sweet and fresh and hard. My entire body goes from solid wood to pile of sawdust. He pushes against me, and I feel something brittle against my breast. Pushing him back, I reach for it and come up with a dry leaf.

“You’re not clean yet.” I flick it over the shower door so it doesn’t clog the drain.

“I can’t keep my hands off you.” He buries his face in my neck, kissing and biting. How does he know what that does to me?

“Caspian,” I moan, grabbing the loofah. “One minute. Please.” He pulls back enough for me to soap up the scrubber. “Okay, turn around.”

He does it, and I have to take a second to appreciate what he’s got. His back is as magnificent as his front. I draw my fingers around the ridges of muscle, flicking away a twig.

“Is this a tattoo?” I ask. I can barely see it in the moonlight.

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“You want to fuck or talk about ancient history?”

“Not much of a multitasker, are you?” I run the loofah down his back.

“Is that a challenge?”

“What did you call them back in the day? A double-dog-dare?”

“Are you double-dog-daring me?”

“Sure am.”

“In that case…” I clean his hard ass cheeks and gently make sure he’s clean between them. He takes a heavy breath. “It’s a raven. We all have them.”

“We all?”

“The guys in your toolbox. We’re like a family.”

“A mafia family?”

“No such thing.” He looks over his shoulder. “We talked about that.”

“Sorry.” I reach around to scrub his neck and chest while running my face along his hard shoulder blades. “You said you’re Italian?”

“On my father’s side. I was born in Naples. Do I get to ask about you?”

“No.” I move down for his torso and a dick as hard as his abs. “Let me get under here.”

I work every crease and crevice of him, appreciating where he’s soft, where he’s hard, and lingering on what makes him moan, until he’s bracing himself against the shower walls.

“God, Julia, what are you doing to me?”

“I’m being thorough. Pick up your feet.” I clean off the tops, then the bottoms and between the toes. If he’s ticklish, he’s not showing it. I stand up and toss the loofah on the tub’s edge. “I pronounce you clean enough to fuck.”

Quickly, he turns and kisses me again, harder this time, pushing me against the tiles. “Now let me prove I’m dirty enough”

He sucks on the base of my throat. I dig my fingers in his wet hair and he works his face down my body. His mouth is rough, as if he wants to devour me. Kneeling with his nose on my thighs, he lifts my leg to put my knee over his shoulder.

Then waits.

The anticipation makes me squeak and fist his hair.

“What do you want?” he asks. He damn well knows what, but he wants to hear it as much as I want to say it.

“Eat it.”

“You taste so good.” He flicks his tongue over my clit. “How should I eat this beautiful fucking pussy?”

Damn. He is dirty.

“Lick it. Suck it. Fuck it with your tongue.”

He does exactly what I ask, but better, more. His tongue, his lips, even his teeth treat my pleasure like a meal he can’t get enough of. I groan for him, then I have a thought.

What if it’s my orgasm that changes him back?

Shit.

I don’t want him to go.

But it’s too late. He’s sucking and I’m coming hard in his mouth.

He stops right before it’s too much.

“You’re still here,” I gasp.

“We came together when I changed.” He shuts the water.

“Well, we better get to it.”

In a graceful swoop, he picks me up as if I’m made of foam insulation and carries me out of the shower. I grab the condom just in time.

“I’m not sure what I have left in me,” I say. He throws me onto the bed.

“I am. I just tasted it.” He crawls on top of me for a kiss, and I taste it too.

“I don’t know if it’s an issue, but…” I hold up the condom. He snaps it away and rips it open with his teeth, spitting out the foil strip.

“I’m going to need it to keep me from exploding in three seconds.”

After rolling it on like a champ, he’s inside, pushing deep with his eyes open, staring at me as if he’s in some kind of shock.

“Are you okay?”

“I can’t believe…” He bends his head at the deepest part of a thrust. “I’m here with you.”

“Me either.” The last time we were like this, a screwdriver handle went inside me and a real dick came out. Maybe we’re both having a moment.

He looks at me as he fucks me, with those big blue eyes and beautiful eyebrows that are as thick as crown molding. I cup his face in my palms and draw them to the back of his head, gripping his dark curls as beautiful molten pleasure rises in me again.

“Julia,” he whispers, and I know what he’s going to tell me.

“I’m not?—”

His face scrunches and he says, “I’m sorry,” with a groan, a grunt, then a last, resigned groan. “Shit.”

Well, so much for coming together.