Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Joe nodded. “Definitely. And it has nothing to do with the holidays. For now, they think the famous writer has sailed into town spreading cheer and goodwill—supporting local businesses and putting money into our coffers when everyone needs it most. But if you reveal your inner Grinch too soon, you’ll get yourself a bad reputation.”
“They’ll think you’ve corrupted me,” I guessed.
“For sure.”
His sideways smirk was the perfect balance of playful and sexy. And fuck…I wished we were alone when that look took on a heated quality. I glanced over at my desk and licked my lips at the memory of what we’d done a few days ago.
I’d spent days with my head buried in my work with a renewed energy and focus. And yes, I’d been proud of my progress, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t thought of Joe. I’d tidily labeled the encounter under “Things I Want to Do Again Soon,” but I hadn’t allowed myself to dwell on how perfect his chest felt against mine. And so much more.
My cock twitched in my sweats as my brain treated itself to an instant replay of Joe on his knees for me or bent over my desk with his ass on display.
I plucked at the fabric and crossed my arms, then uncrossed my arms and pretended to be enthralled with the fir tree taking up space in my office as he sauntered to my side, tucking a pencil behind his ear as he filled me in on his progress with the window.
“…leak has been fixed, but the wood is still damp. I’ll strip the old wood and replace it with a sturdier wood.”
“Bottom line…I need wood,” I deadpanned.
Joe shook his head in mock consternation. “Nice to know age doesn’t diminish a juvenile sense of humor.”
I snickered. “Are you insinuating that I’m an old pervert?”
“Yeah, but I like that about you,” he replied conversationally.
Our eyes met and just like that…I knew we were on the same page, thinking the same naughty thoughts. Heat and need swelled between us like a rogue wave. I inched closer and tugged the string on his apron.
“I want you to wear this next ti—”
“Here we go!” Tony returned, shaking a plastic bag.
I snapped to attention when he pulled out a box of lights and immediately began unraveling them on the rug in front of the tree.
Joe furrowed his brow. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Tony countered.
He plugged in the lights with a proud “Ta-da” and beamed. “Pretty, aren’t they? Might as well put ’em up. Come on, Joe. You know how this works. Hook that end around the top.”
“Whoa. I can put the damn lights on the damn tree,” Joe protested.
“Yeah, yeah. Says the guy who left the garland in a heap on the porch. This will only take a few—” Buzz buzz. Tony fished his phone from his pocket and frowned. “Shoot. I gotta run. Abby’s running late and the babysitter has an appointment. I guess this is your time to shine after all, Joey.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“Later, man. And thanks. I appreciate the referral.” Tony bumped my shoulder as he turned to me. “Take care, Mr. Warren. If I can be of any further assistance, let me know.”
“Thanks. I will,” I assured him, nodding politely.
I listened for the telltale click of the front door closing, intending to pounce on Joe the moment we were alone.
He pushed the midsection of the strand of lights into my hands before I could make any sexy moves. “I know you’re paying me to do this, but if you hold the strand while I wind the lights through the branches, it’ll go faster.”
I heaved a dramatic put-upon sigh, but I think he knew I didn’t mind.
We shuffled around the tree, working in tandem like old pros. Joe threaded the wire in between branches, gently pulling when he needed more slack. I followed his wordless instructions without comment…and because I was me, I sized him up, willing inspiration to strike. I wasn’t sure how to incorporate a scene about stringing lights on a tree, though.
Handyman hopelessly tangled in fairy lights with a killer on the loose? No. I needed more information.
“You’re rather meticulous,” I commented idly. “I take it you’ve done this a few times.”
“Many times. I was put in charge of the lights after my fifth-grade growth spurt. No kidding…I woke up one morning in clothes that were two sizes too small and my feet hanging off the bed. By the end of that year, I was six one. My friends didn’t catch up till high school or college, so I was always the go-to tall guy. And my mom’s a shorty. She still calls me to come by to kill spiders in the rafters and pull platters from high shelves.”
“And hang lights on her Christmas tree?”