Page 28 of Sunset Catchers

I love knee tattoos on a man.

And if that man is any kind of smart; lethal combination.

“You scared me,” I say accusingly, disregarding that I am the one doing something sort of wrong here.

“Found anything of interest?” he says while tilting his head sideways.

Yes, your tattoos. Your love of reading. Your arms.

I shrug, willing indifference into the motion.

“Not my reading preferences, but solid stack.”

“Really? What kinds of books do you read?”

“Try and guess.”

“I’d say you’re definitely a romance reader,” he says confidently. I open my mouth to tell him that he’s mostly wrong, but he’s not done, apparently. “And a fan of thrillers.” My mouth closes. “I bet you lose a lot of hours, awake at night, unable to sleep over it.” My nose crinkles. The cocky smirk he gives me awakens my ire. “I got it perfectly, didn’t I?”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much; that was easy to guess.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, Win.” I arch a single brow.

“Win?”

“Yeah, Win.”

“You think we’re on a nickname basis?”

“I just caught you snooping through my room. I’d say that’s ground for nicknames.”

“Well, big stud, don’t expect any cute ones from me,” I say dryly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Win.”

I plaster a sickly, sweet smile on my face. To hide how cute I think him calling me Win is. Sure, my best friend has a slew of nicknames on the back burner for me, but none of those made me want to suddenly gush and giggle.

“You’re bothering me, Levi.”

He takes the dismissal with a snort and goes back to his computer. I breathe better without his attention on me.

I get the swatches onto his bedroom wall quickly, then do the remaining ones in the main area of the cottage that encloses the kitchen, dining room and living room. I feel Levi’s notice poke at me the whole time. Once finished, I gather my paint supplies then I’m on my merry way.

Levi clears his throat, commanding my attention. I allow it. My eyes land on his.

“Feel free to eat dinner here. Since you still don’t have a table or chairs.”

“Thanks for the offer, but it’s five o’clock. I’m clocking out.”

“We can still eat dinner together,” he argues with a dip between his brows.

“I don’t think so.”

It’s one thing to have lunch on the go when we’re in the middle of our work day, but dinner is entirely something else.

“We can only spend time together when we’re working?”

“That is how it usually goes with coworkers.” He sighs his frustration, clearly trying to come up with something else to say. I take a step forward, but he finds something. Dammit!