bad. They’re both workaholics. Neither one of ’ em are round much. I see ’ em more at the Cellar than at home.”
“Huh?” Hal said, sounding surprised. “I suppose that’s mighty friendly of you, Powerhouse.”
Clay paused in his mopping, realizing that was probably the most Hal had heard out of him—ever.
He’d just made a decision not to speak, but Melody pulled down the walls he’d been putting up for as long as he could remember just by being around him. He wasn’t sure if he was happy about it or not, but it was hard to be mad at her for it. Rather than dwell on it, he focused on mopping, his arms straining from the force of his enthusiasm, because thus far he hadn’t managed to work off one bit of the sexual frustration.
* * * *
“Drive carefully.”
Melody nodded. Her stomach fluttered with a million emotions, and she wanted to stand there with Clay in the snow forever. She looked up at him, trying to memorize his handsome face framed in golden light from the streetlamp over the parking lot while snowflakes danced down from the heavens. Scruffy whiskers, black hair sticking out from underneath his black UFC hat still on backward, he was sinfully beautiful with his soulful eyes studying her just as closely.
She reached up and brushed at his forehead, which was still shiny with sweat. Her touch lingered and then slid down to feel the prickle of a day’s worth of whiskers on his cheek. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Sure.” He smiled, showing off even white teeth that were almost too perfect. “Anytime.”
“You have a pretty smile,” she blurted out before she could stop herself, because she noticed it often. “It makes you real handsome.”
“It’s fake.” Clay clicked his teeth together, showing them off. “Most of ’ em are fake . I spend a small fortune on dental work ’cause having a buddy like Wyatt is hard on my smile. I’m always showing up in Clara’s office with some sorta emergency.”
Melody laughed. “Well, she does a good job. They’re like movie star teeth. I need me some of those.”
“I like your smile. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
His low voice caused a zing of pleasure to dance across Melody’s skin. His dark eyes ran over her once more. He was getting bolder, because his gaze lingered on her chest, exposed to the cold from her open jacket. Then he stepped into her personal space and reached for the zipper of her worn jacket, working on getting it closed for her.
“You need a new jacket.”
“I know,” she whispered, because she was suddenly breathless. Having him zip up her jacket felt so very intimate. Letting him do it caused a low heat to build in her stomach and spread into her arms and legs despite the cold. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the pulse of need between her legs. “I need a lot of things.”
“I sorta wanna give you those things, Melody,” Clay whispered, his tone husky and compelling. He slowly pulled the zipper up, letting it run over the curve of her breasts, making her feel as if she could sense the warmth of his touch through her uniform. “I wish you’d let me.”
Melody took a shuddering breath, knowing they were talking about more than jackets and big tips. Why did this have to happen now? She’d never expected to find a man who affected her as Clay did. It felt like her life was a jigsaw puzzle, and Clay was the missing pieces. They just fit together so well. She felt safe and happy and whole when she was with him.
God, she wanted him.
Her body literally ached with need, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Giving in to everything he was offering would be effortless if she’d allow herself the luxury of letting down her guard, but she couldn’t. She hated her ex-husband for damaging her to the point that she didn’t recognize hope and happiness even when it was looking her dead in the
“Huh?” Hal said, sounding surprised. “I suppose that’s mighty friendly of you, Powerhouse.”
Clay paused in his mopping, realizing that was probably the most Hal had heard out of him—ever.
He’d just made a decision not to speak, but Melody pulled down the walls he’d been putting up for as long as he could remember just by being around him. He wasn’t sure if he was happy about it or not, but it was hard to be mad at her for it. Rather than dwell on it, he focused on mopping, his arms straining from the force of his enthusiasm, because thus far he hadn’t managed to work off one bit of the sexual frustration.
* * * *
“Drive carefully.”
Melody nodded. Her stomach fluttered with a million emotions, and she wanted to stand there with Clay in the snow forever. She looked up at him, trying to memorize his handsome face framed in golden light from the streetlamp over the parking lot while snowflakes danced down from the heavens. Scruffy whiskers, black hair sticking out from underneath his black UFC hat still on backward, he was sinfully beautiful with his soulful eyes studying her just as closely.
She reached up and brushed at his forehead, which was still shiny with sweat. Her touch lingered and then slid down to feel the prickle of a day’s worth of whiskers on his cheek. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Sure.” He smiled, showing off even white teeth that were almost too perfect. “Anytime.”
“You have a pretty smile,” she blurted out before she could stop herself, because she noticed it often. “It makes you real handsome.”
“It’s fake.” Clay clicked his teeth together, showing them off. “Most of ’ em are fake . I spend a small fortune on dental work ’cause having a buddy like Wyatt is hard on my smile. I’m always showing up in Clara’s office with some sorta emergency.”
Melody laughed. “Well, she does a good job. They’re like movie star teeth. I need me some of those.”
“I like your smile. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
His low voice caused a zing of pleasure to dance across Melody’s skin. His dark eyes ran over her once more. He was getting bolder, because his gaze lingered on her chest, exposed to the cold from her open jacket. Then he stepped into her personal space and reached for the zipper of her worn jacket, working on getting it closed for her.
“You need a new jacket.”
“I know,” she whispered, because she was suddenly breathless. Having him zip up her jacket felt so very intimate. Letting him do it caused a low heat to build in her stomach and spread into her arms and legs despite the cold. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the pulse of need between her legs. “I need a lot of things.”
“I sorta wanna give you those things, Melody,” Clay whispered, his tone husky and compelling. He slowly pulled the zipper up, letting it run over the curve of her breasts, making her feel as if she could sense the warmth of his touch through her uniform. “I wish you’d let me.”
Melody took a shuddering breath, knowing they were talking about more than jackets and big tips. Why did this have to happen now? She’d never expected to find a man who affected her as Clay did. It felt like her life was a jigsaw puzzle, and Clay was the missing pieces. They just fit together so well. She felt safe and happy and whole when she was with him.
God, she wanted him.
Her body literally ached with need, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Giving in to everything he was offering would be effortless if she’d allow herself the luxury of letting down her guard, but she couldn’t. She hated her ex-husband for damaging her to the point that she didn’t recognize hope and happiness even when it was looking her dead in the
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