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“A cranky bear.”
She scowls. “A cranking noise. Then a grinding one.”
I shake my head. “Not following.”
After she licks her lips, she makes the noises. Her mimicking what she heard is so comical, and I smile.
Do you have any clue how adorably sexy you are?
“It’s a bear.”
I shake my head. It sounds like a gear stuck somewhere. “You stay here, and I’ll take a look.”
She nods, only now seeming to realize I’ve been holding her upper arm. I release her and step back, needing the clarity of distance from her.
I go downstairs and notice a fainter clicking sound coming from behind the utility door. I glance down at myself, loathing that I’m not wearing my usual worn work clothes, but I sigh and open the door to see what work needs to be done.
Just like I suspected, the blower on the furnace is the culprit, and with a little bit of finagling, I fix the issue and retreat from the slim area. I can only imagine what she’ll think when she sees me covered in dirt and grime in her space.
She cringes, looking me up and down when I go back upstairs. “Find the bear?”
“Nope. Just the blower on the furnace acting like a punk.” I narrow my eyes as I lift my shirt to wipe my brow. A squeal reaches my ears, but I don’t miss how her eyes linger on my abs before I drop my shirt. “What’s that?
She lifts her face, blinking quickly. “What?”
I will never tire of catching her looking at me like she wants me for dessert. “That squeal.”
She points up. “The fan.”
I huff and shake my head. From here, I see the slow drip of the sink in the kitchen. Between the plops of water and the fan blade, she must be going nuts. “Anything else I can do here?”
It’s a loaded question, and while I have something wicked in mind, I’m sincerely asking about repairs.
She crooks her finger, beckoning me to follow her toward the bedroom, and I wonder if she read me correctly, or incorrectly, I suppose. I’m quiet as she takes me on a pathetic tour of maintenance past due. Wobbly showerhead in the master bath. The door to her room doesn’t shut properly. A draft in every window. I sigh, making a list on a piece of scrap paper.
When we end up in the living room again, I tell her the truth. “I met Dalton right after he bought this property. It used to be owned by a big vacation rental company. They were called luxury cabins, like Airbnbs. While they look nice and modern, they weren’t built well.”
“I can tell.” She crosses her arms, glaring at the squeaky fan overhead.
“I can see if my brother Jason has time to work on this.”
She brightens, making this late night all worth the while. “The one who has a crush on Marian at the Goldfinch.”
I chuckle. I want to be here to see more of those smiles. “Yeah, but I can handle this instead, actually.” I’m all for spending more time with Claire and hanging out. She shouldn’t be in my thoughts, but I can’t shove her out of my mind.
“I’ll come over tomorrow and start on some of those things.”
She follows me to the door, and I can’t help but wish I could ask if she’ll still be wearing that robe then.
“Thanks, by the way,” she says softly as she toes the shoes at the door.
I follow the tap of her hot pink toenails on the white of the sneakers, then I drag my gaze up along her leg, wishing my hands—and mind—weren’t so filthy that I can’t touch her.
I sigh. “Anytime.”
As I leave, I wonder when I became a glutton for punishment. Putting myself in the position to be near such a high-maintenance woman so far out of my league is nothing but asking for trouble.
Chapter 11
