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Fire in You (Wait for You #6) Page 64
Author: J. Lynn, Jennifer L. Armentrout

Brock faced me. “I remember everything, Jilly.”

A shiver curled its way down my spine, and I looked away. “You seriously came over to put together my bookshelves?”

“Yep.” There was a pause. “And I wanted to see you.”

I peeked at him, unsure of what to say.

“I know I said I’d give you time,” he said after a moment.

“And this is you giving me time?”

“Yes.” That half-grin was back, doing funny things to my stomach. “So where are the bookshelves?”

“In the second bedroom down the hall.” Deciding that if he wanted to put the shelves together, he could have at it. I had no problem supervising.

Aaand I was kind of, okay sort of, really interested to see him here.

“I’ll grab some drinks,” I offered, then pivoted around, hurrying off before I could change my mind and ask him to leave, even though I knew I wanted him to stay.

Gah. Sometimes I made no sense to myself. At all.

Once I had two bottles of water, I led him into the guest room. It was pretty barren. Just a narrow, single bed that was barely used, a desk in the corner, and a nightstand.

Brock didn’t comment on the lack of design as he walked toward the pieces of the shelving system. “Where’s your cat?”

“Probably in my bedroom, under the covers. That’s where he takes his afternoon naps.”

Brock laughed. “I like that cat.”

“Yeah, he likes you. Which is weird because that cat hates everyone.”

“Your cat has good taste.” He slid me a sidelong glance. “Then again, everyone likes me.”

“Ha. Ha.” I stared at his back and suspicion blossomed. “Did you talk to my mom today?”

“No.” His brows flew up. “Why? Should I have?”

I shook my head as I picked up the packet of hardware. Sitting on the bed, I watched him rummage through the boards. I liked how he was dressed, casual in jeans and a fitted thermal. My gaze got hung up on the clear definition of his chest and arms.

I started thinking.

Which probably was bad, but whatever.

Picking up the instructions, he sat on the left side of me, on the bed. “Well, this shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“It’s not. I’m just lazy.”

One side of his lips quirked up. “I’m surprised you don’t actually have any bookshelves overflowing with books, to be honest.”

Turning the packet of bolts and screws over in my hands, I shrugged. “I . . . I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“And you’ve lived here how long?”

“Shush it,” I murmured, fighting a grin.

“But you’re now doing it?” He dropped the paper on the bed behind him and rose. “Interesting.”

I had no idea why he found that interesting. “I plan on bringing back a ton of books when I come home from Thanksgiving.”

“How many is a ton?” he asked while he laid out the shiny gray boards.

“A crap ton.”

That grin spread, and damn it all to hell, it was truly a sexy grin. Who had I been kidding when I thought it wasn’t? “Well I hope a crap ton fits in the Porsche.”

My eyes narrowed. “I never agreed to ride with you.”

“You will.”

“You’re awful sure of yourself.”

The look he shot me screamed he had reason to be. Feeling a little flustered, I eventually stopped supervising and helped as he told me how he was renovating his kitchen.

“You didn’t buy a newer house? Or have one built?” I asked.

“Did buy a new house. Wanted something different. Plus, there wasn’t a lot of land available where I wanted,” he explained, spinning the hex key like a pro. “Also wanted to get my hands dirty.”

I arched a brow as I picked up the shelf and held it in place for him. “Seriously? Since when are you into construction and renovation?”

“Hey, I know how to use these hands.” He glanced over at me, lashes lowered. “Trust me.”

My cheeks heated as my stomach wiggled. Yes. Yes, he did. “Why do you have to make everything so . . . so perverted now?”

Brock laughed. “You think that’s perverted? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Yay. Something to look forward to.”

Shaking his head, he screwed two pieces together. “Some of the stuff I’m not going to be able to do. I’ve already demolished the kitchen, so it’s been carryout and grilling.”

“It’s kind of cold for that, isn’t it?”

“Nah. Doesn’t bother me.” Turning the shelf upright, he rose. “Where did you want this?”

I showed him. “So is the kitchen completely gutted?”

“Almost.” He carried the shelf to the wall across from the bed, then turned to the second one and began working at that one. “I’m going to try to rehab the cabinets, so they have to be taken down carefully.”

Surprise flickered through me as I watched him work to put the shelves in. This was something new about him.

“You don’t need to look that surprised.”

“Sorry.” I sat back down on the edge of the bed. “I just didn’t know you were into doing stuff like that.”

“There’s a lot I’m into that you don’t know about.”

There he went, saying something that so didn’t sound like a normal comment.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve used these hands for good.” He picked up the other packet of hardware and ripped the little bag open.

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