Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
“Don’t mind me, Miss Peters, I’ll have this fixed up for you and be gone before you know it,” I tell her in as even of a voice as I can manage. Although I nearly pause my statement at her cringe. “It’s miss … right?” I ask to clarify and for a moment, for one small moment, I’m anxious.
The very idea of her being married creates a tension in every muscle I have.
With a quick shake of her head and a warm blush rising up through her chest and into her cheeks, she corrects me. “You can call me Aubrey, Bennet.”
My name. Her lips.
Fuck me.
There’s a silence between us as only our eyes lock and the temperature rises. That blush of hers rises too, all the way up to her temples.
I’m hard instantly. Those doe eyes and that naive innocence about her have always done something to me.
“I’ll just be,” she starts, her voice coming out in a high pitch and she steps backward, nearly kicking a cardboard box that’s damp and out of place. It must have been under the leaky sink when the pipe busted.
“Oh,” she says with a gasp, almost falling back, and that robe slips just slightly. As quick as I can, I force my gaze up to the left and turn slightly. Fuck me. That glimpse of her soft curves and that quick peek at her breasts will be burned into my memory forevermore. “Oh my God.” The sound of her stumbling over something is comical.
“I didn’t see a thing,” is all I say although it’s not exactly the truth. An asymmetric smirk lifts the corner of my lips up and I hide it by rubbing my hand over my jaw.
Her bare feet pad on the floor as she rushes out that she’ll be upstairs if I need her.
My mind wanders back to our past as I work. Back to the fact that her friend asked me out before I could ask Aubrey out. Pamela moved to Denver I think, had two kids and has a great life. I couldn’t care less about any of that. The only piece that matters is whether or not that’s changed Aubrey’s mind about dating me.
I huff a humorless laugh as I work on the busted pipe, cutting it out and doing everything I can to tamp down the feelings racing through me.
Aubrey is settled here, and I’ve only just come home, taking up this job until I get grounded. There’s no way in hell a girl like her would date a rough, blue-collar man like me.
AUBREY
All I can imagine is his rough, callused hands on my body. And it is so, so wrong. He’s here on business and working. Hell, I’m sure he didn’t even know I still existed until he saw me. He probably didn’t even remember my name.
Miss Peters. I remember him calling me that and it’s like stepping into a cold shower. Until I remember the way he looked at me when I told him to call me Aubrey. And how invested he seemed to be when he asked if I was a “miss.”
I bite down on my lower lip to stifle my squeal of delight and smile as I push open one of the two French doors leading to the en suite bathroom.
Bennet Thompson will never know what he does to me. Did to me. I try to correct myself but no, shaking my head I have to admit, he is very much doing it in present tense now.
It’s been years since I’ve really thought of him. I’ve buried myself in so much work as an editor that I’ve rarely noticed men at all. One look at Bennet and bam, I turned into a blushing fool.
Flicking the light on, I lean against the sink and try to contain myself.
Never in my life have I felt so … bad. He makes me think about things I shouldn’t. Makes me hot when I shouldn’t be. He’s only here to fix a broken pipe.
I can’t help the grin and the dirty thoughts that come to mind as I shake off my daydream and get back to the task of pampering myself. Pampering may not be the right word given that my calves are burning. This cream needs to come off right freaking now.
The water rushes out of the faucet as I wipe off the hair remover and go about my normal routine. One glance in the mirror and I cringe. Way to make an impression, I guess. If I had to depict it in a single sentence, I’d describe myself as a mouse who got caught in the rain. In the oversized robe I’m drowning, and my long brunette hair is nearly black because it’s still wet and stuck to my flushed skin.
It’s not exactly the outfit and styling I’d have chosen for the event that just played out on the first floor of my house. Grimacing, I keep myself firmly focused on the facts. Bennet doesn’t want me, he never has and I’ve probably made a fool of myself.