Page 38 of Humility

“Shit! No. Turn it off,” Enzo yelled up the stairs, and my smile fell. “Dammit,” he swore as he stomped up the stairs. He was wiping his hands, but his shirt was soaked and sticking to his body. Once upon a time, it had been white, but now it was a disgusting mess. The wet material clung to the muscles of his cut chest and highlighted the tattoo that covered his arm and half of his body.

Enzo reminded me of a rock climber—I’d met a few—and how they were all fit and muscular but not bulky. It didn’t make him any less sexy, and I had to peel my eyes away from the sight of him. I didn’t have the freedom back home to spend time with men like this, and now I knew why. My father was afraid that I would fall into sin again. I wiped that image from my mind before it could take root. Too many nights, I’d cried over Angelo and Dario. Too many nights, I berated myself for ever thinking they loved me.

“I think you’re going to need a whole new one,” Enzo rubbed at his wavy, wet hair, and I crossed my arms and looked away.

“How long do you think that will take?”

“A couple of days to install. I don’t know, I’ve never done something like that, but I’ll figure it out. I like to build things.”

“Okay.” I looked down as I thought.

“You can use our shower tonight. At least then you can get the shampoo out of your hair,” Enzo said just as his phone dinged. He pulled it out and glared at the screen. “Actually, my co-owner said to take you to our hotel for a few days so we can fix the water and the leaking roof before you return.”

“Oh wow, I don’t want to trouble you,” I said.

“No trouble at all. When the boss calls for extra care for our clients, take it.”

I smiled, and even though I wasn’t sure this was a good idea, I nodded. “I’ll take you up on that. Thanks.” Pointing down the hall, I asked, “Is the greenhouse in working order?”

Enzo’s shoulder lifted and dropped casually. “Honestly, I have no idea. I couldn’t keep a cactus from dying, so that should tell you all you need to know,” he teased, the joking making me blush.

“I hate to impose on you anymore, but if I make a list, would you take me to a store where I could buy dirt and seeds? I think I want to grow some vegetables, maybe some fruit.”

“For sure. You make a list of what you want, and I’ll change my shirt.”

Before he could turn away, I reached out and grabbed his arm. His skin was hot under my touch, and his flexed arm felt amazing. He looked at my hand, then up into my eyes, and butterflies filled my stomach. I quickly let go of his arm as the strange tension that filled like a balloon swirled around us.

“I um…I just wanted to say thank you. I was ready to give up this morning.”

Enzo stuffed his hands into his pockets, the shy smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, making his dimple stand out.

“That would’ve been a shame. I’m glad you’re feeling better. You should make that list so we can get to the store before they close.”

“Yes, of course. Closing time, I should’ve thought of that.” He chuckled as I walked away and pulled out my phone to make a list in the notes. It didn’t take me very long, and it wasn’t like I really knew what I needed. I had a basic idea of how to garden, and I always loved the flowers back home, but everything seemed so new. It was like learning how to speak a whole other language.

Walking to the front door, I opened it just in time to see Enzo with his shirt off, and the sight stole the air from my chest. His perfectly tanned skin was sun-kissed, and the tattoo I’d seen through the T-shirt looked like the intricate patterns on the Persian rugs my father loved to collect. All too soon, the show was over. As he turned in my direction, I closed the door and locked it.

“Do you need a purse or anything,” Enzo asked, and my cheeks flushed hot.

“That would be helpful. My head is all over the place. I’ll be right back.”

“No, no, that’s okay. You can pay me back. I mean, I do know where you live,” he teased.

“Thanks, Enzo. I feel like I should say that every few seconds.”

“And it looks like Da…Maurice knew that we might need a whole new unit,” he slapped the tank in the back of the pickup truck.

“That’s great. I will have to thank Da…Maurice,” I teased.

“It’s just Maurice. My brain is fried,” he said and blushed, which looked so cute on him.

I slipped into the passenger seat of the truck and buckled my seatbelt.

“What music do you like,” he asked as we pulled out of the driveway.

“Do you like Peter and the Piper? I love them,” I said.

“Coming right up. I have all of their albums. The percussion one with the howling wolf they did as a Christmas song is one of my favorites.”