Page 15 of Blame it on the Kiss
“I wish all the time Payton was still here.” Honor turned and opened the door in silent invitation. Bryce softened things inside her, and while having Payton in common hurt too much for anything serious to happen between them, maybe they could let each other off the hook now and then.
“She’s lucky to have had a friend like you.”
Honor squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m the lucky one,” she said under her breath.
Sunlight spilled into the space and she hurried over to the windows to let in some fresh air. Turning to find Bryce scanning the large room, she almost changed her mind and asked him to leave. The far left wall cried out for new paint. The hardwood floor needed a few new boards and sanding, and once she found the right screwdriver, she’d assemble the pile of shelves.
Several pieces of furniture decorated the space, but boxes overflowing with fragile items wrapped in newspaper sat in no particular order in the corners.
“It’s nice,” he said, his voice sincere, and her overactive nerves calmed. “Is the space below yours, too?”
“Only until Mr. Case rents it. For now he’s letting me store a few things for free.”
Bryce raised his eyebrows. “You’re leaving something out.”
How did he know that? “Okay, not exactly free. I’m helping him get a date with Shirley in the mayor’s office.”
“How’s that going?”
She lifted some loose papers on the small desk in the middle of the room. “Have you ever tried getting two stubborn senior citizens together?”
He came up beside her. “Can’t say that I have. You looking for something?”
“My measuring tape.” She searched the desk drawer to no avail. “I wanted to measure one of the walls.”
“We could do it the old fashioned way with our feet. I’m a size eleven, so that’ll get you a pretty close measurement. Which wall?” He wandered over to the help-me-I-need-paint wall.
“That’s the one,” she managed to get out, her mind having immediately jumped to shoe size indicating another size. Or was it big hands that meant a big—
“Back me up here, shop owner.” He gestured her over with a lift and tilt of his chin.
She hustled to his side while she extinguished all thoughts of inches and how she’d felt him pressed up against her their night in his hotel room.
“You all right? You look a little flush.”
“Fine.” She glanced down with every intention of looking at his feet, but got stuck on his zipper instead. Involuntary and sooo inconvenient, given he cleared his throat. Her gaze jumped back to his handsome face.
His very nice white teeth sparkled. Crap. He’d caught her checking out his junk. This man discombobulated her from here until Tuesday.
“Like what you see?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She kept eye contact, daring him to call her bluff.
“I could show you.”
She shook her head. They couldn’t flirt and keep the tenuous connection they’d just established. “No. You can’t.”
“You’re right.” He pressed a hand to the wall and looked down. “Sorry. I forgot myself for a minute.”
“It’s okay. I did, too.” Turning off the feelings he triggered whenever he stood close hadn’t been as easy as she’d hoped it would be. “So, measurement?”
“Let’s do it.”
With silent agreement, they focused on his shoes and she quietly kept track of each step he took along the wall.
“Fifty-seven,” he said at the same time she said, “Fifty-three.” She’d let his very nice counting voice intrude on her thoughts for a couple of seconds, but she thought she’d stayed with him.
“One of us can’t count,” he teased before his attention drifted and he veered around her to pick something up off the floor. “Look what I found.” He held up the tape measure.
