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“It’s fine,” he says, never ceasing to scrub.
“It’s not. That’s what I’m here for.” I stare into the side of his head, and he finally turns to me and nods.
“The floors. You can help with that. All the dishes are done, and I’m almost finished with the counters.” He glances around the room and sighs. “That’s all that’s left.”
“Point me in the direction of the supplies.”
His hand gestures to a door on the other end of the kitchen. It’s a pantry, which surprises me that he’d keep supplies with his food.
“Right out back,” he says. “Upper shelves, though, so let me know if you need any help reaching things.”
I open the pantry door to find it leads to his laundry room. In the corner, well organized in bins and on shelves, are all his supplies. Labeled as they would be, alphabetically.
I marvel at the stark white room, with pops of color here and there. It’s pristine. Gorgeous. Aiden. This place is amazing.
I grab the vacuum, plug it in, and get to work.
I’m lost in my own little world, bopping around to a song stuck in my head, finally getting to do my job. The reason he pays me. But it’s not long before I feel his presence behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see he’s leaning closer and shutting the vacuum off.
I twist around and when I do, his face, and his body are so close. I can practically touch his bare chest.
My heart hammers under my ribs, and I swear butterflies swarm in my stomach.
His nostrils flare slightly, a clear indication he’s not happy. “You’re doing it wrong.”
I blink. What?
How can I be vacuuming wrong?
Despite the fact that the words are on my tongue, I don’t ask what he means because it’s not something I’d ever say to him. It’s something most would say, not recognizing the effect that question could have on someone like Aiden. More ridicule for a man who ridicules himself enough.
He shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ll take over.”
“Could you show me? I’d like to know how you want it done. That way I can do it right.”
It’s as though his entire body exhales at those words. The rigid posture, gone. The blank stare that looks right through you, gone.
“Actually,” he says, glancing around. “I think you’re right. It’s good.”
When he turns fully toward me, the movement makes his pecs flex. I don’t mean to lick my lips, but shit, I do.
His hungry gaze trails over my mouth, and he takes a step closer.
“Aiden.” I don’t mean for my voice to drop seductively, but it does.
For a second, I wonder if he’ll kiss me again, but he steps back and takes the vacuum from me, essentially breaking the spell I was just under.
“Well… almost,” he says. The compulsion kicks in, and my stomach drops. At least he tried. But in the end, he couldn’t help himself.
A moment later, he’s taking over. Showing me exactly how he likes it done.
Just like he did all those years ago.
And I don’t know if I’m happy or sad that he’s still the boy I loved.
17
AIDEN
