Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Gideon shook his head, trying to dislodge the distracting thoughts from his mind. Lizzy and her grief were none of his business. Matter of fact, this damned gutter was none of his business either. He hadn’t intended to offer to fix it for her, merely to inform her that it was a hazard. Okay, he could probably have messaged her or something, but he’d wanted to see her.
And then when he had…all he’d wanted to do was prolong the conversation between them. He was losing his ever-loving mind.
Lizzy was Lizzy.
A little bit of light fucking didn’t change that fact.
Yet, here he was, fixing her gutters like some knight in shining armor. It was disturbing. He didn’t recognize himself when he did shit like this.
He was muttering under his breath as he fumbled to unscrew a stubborn bolt. The bolt was literally the only thing still keeping this gutter attached to the wall…and it wouldn’t budge. His wrench slipped and he swore in irritation when it rapped his knuckles.
“It might be rusted, try unscrewing and tightening in a rocking motion to—”
Lizzy’s voice, coming from directly below him, shocked the bejesus out of Gideon and he jerked enough to send the ladder wobbling.
“Motherfucker.” The word was torn from his throat in a strangled gasp as he struggled to maintain his balance atop the teetering ladder. Once he managed to gain control, he glared down at the face that was staring up at him from the open window. The entire upper half of her body was leaning over the sill. “Jesus Christ, Lizzy, are you fucking trying to kill me?”
She looked pale and shocked and instantly apologized. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I thought you knew I was down here.”
“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”
“The window squeaked when I opened it. It was quite noisy.”
“I was busy. Announce yourself next time. And why the hell are you spying on me anyway? I told you I’d take care of it.”
“You seemed to be having some difficulty, I thought I’d…”
“You’re being a know-it-all again, Lizzy-bit,” he warned, and she glared at him.
“That’s because I happen to know about this. Are you too much of a macho guy to take advice from a mere woman about manly, handyman stuff?”
“Don’t try that bullshit on me, Scrappy. You didn’t even wait to see what my next move would be before jumping in with your unsolicited advice.”
“What would your next move have been?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.
“The fucking rocking thing. If that didn’t work, then some oil. If that didn’t work, then some leverage. If tha—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. You know what you’re doing.”
“And get your head back inside, for Jesus’s sake! I could have dropped something on you.”
He knew that her desk was right next to the window and he wondered if she’d clambered on top of it, or shifted it out of the way to stick her body out of the window like that. He was about to ask when he recalled that he wasn’t supposed to actually know where her desk was at all.
“I wasn’t spying on you,” she told him. “I wanted to see if you needed anything. A drink, maybe? A snack? Some help?”
“No to all of that. Thank you.” The little snoop had totally been spying and she continued to stare at him expectantly now. “Anything else you need?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
He was happy to see her looking less vulnerable and more like her prickly self, but seriously, she was getting on his last nerve right now.
“So you’re happy to just continue staring up at my arse, then? Is that why you’re doing this? To salivate over these steely orbs of perfection?” He flexed his glutes and was gratified when she flinched and retreated seconds later.
Gratified and—honestly?—a little disappointed. He had expected some kind of—
Aah, her right hand reappeared moments later, middle finger extended—and her voice floated up to him simultaneously.
“Your butt isn’t that great, mister! I’ve seen b-better.”
Gideon snorted at that feeble comeback.
“Yeah, right,” he said under his breath, knowing that she couldn’t hear him. “Mr. Hot Stuff in Thailand, no doubt.”
Her arm disappeared and the window slammed shut, leaving Gideon in peace to continue wrestling with the rusty bolt.
It took some doing, and a great deal of sweat and muscle power, but he managed to get it unscrewed after about ten minutes.
She was right—damn it—the gutter would need new brackets.
There was another combination of doorbell ringing and curt knocking about forty-five minutes after Beth had left Gideon to his self-appointed task.
This time she’d known it was coming, having watched him descend the ladder a few moments ago. Still, the impatience in his knocking made Beth cast her eyes heavenward before flinging the door open for him.
“This is becoming an unwelcome habit, Gideon,” she griped when he brushed past her without invitation and sat himself down on top of the same bar stool he had claimed earlier.