One side of his mouth hitched up in a smile. “Is it safe toassume you don’t have the Crown Royal, or the … what was the other one?”
“Sangria.”
“Right. I knew it was random.” He tipped the bottle to hislips.
“Sangria is not random, but you’d be right. I don’t haveany.”
He gave her a scrunched-forehead look like he thought shewas utterly banana balls.
Picking up his stuff, he headed for the enclosed patio andthe troublesome sliding door. She followed and watched him get to work. He bentover the lock, his broad back stretching a long-sleeved shirt molded to hisupper body like Spiderman’s suit.
A little cough escaped her.
“Bless you,” he called over his shoulder.
“Um, thanks, but that wasn’t a sneeze.”
He stood, reached for his beer, and took another swig, hiseyes boring into hers over the bottle.
She searched for a bit of conversation to anchor herself.Unfortunately, her mind U-turned to women on boats, and curiosity prevailed.As long as he already thinks I’m nuts … “Ever goneon one of those every-guy-gets-two-women hedonism cruises?” she blurted.
He sputtered and sprayed beer, dribbling it onto his chin.His hand shot to his face, covering his mouth. “Excuse me?” he said from behindhis fingers. He seemed to be laughing.
She handed him a paper towel and grinned. “Sorry. Sometimesthe random thing takes over, and I can’t stop.”
“Duly noted.” He set down his beer and dragged the towelacross his mouth. “Or you enjoy pushing people’s buttons.”
“A little of that too.”
He chuckled and went back to work, removing the lock. “I’mnot sure where you find a hedonism cruise, but it sounds interesting. I’llresearch it thoroughly and get back to you. It may take me a few weeks, though,so you’ll watch Ford for me?” He looked up at her, hazel eyes twinkling.Obviously, he was getting a kick out of this. So was she, and she respondedwith a belly laugh that busted all kinds of anxiousness loose. God, it feltgood to let go!
He rotated a shoulder as he lined up the new lock, and theshirt crept up, exposing a swath of skin, giving her an enticing view ofhard-ridged muscle. No fat here. No tattoo either. She tried not to picture itunder his shirt, curling around his beefy bicep.
“So what’s up with the California plates?”
He didn’t flinch. “I keep putting off going to the DMV.” Hisvoice was smooth and deep, and it rumbled like a low growl of thunder.
“How long have you been in Colorado?”
“Not quite a year.”
Not really an answer.
Though he wasn’t looking at her, she made a circle with herforefinger and aimed it at him. “How did you get the scar on your lip?”
Seemingly without thought, he touched the scar with hisfingertips. “Took a stick to the mouth.”
She frowned. “What kind of stick?”
Wide eyes flew to hers, like he was a deer caught in ahunter’s crosshairs, before landing back on the locking mechanism. He flicked alever and pulled. The door held. “Hockey stick. I played hockey as a kid. Weall did. Pond hockey.”
She nodded slowly. “Ah. Minnesota in winter.”
With an easy grace that broadcast his comfort in his ownskin, he turned his back to her and tested the door a few more times. He had avery nice back. It matched the rest of him. Yeah, he could totally be a pornstar. Not that I would know what a porn star looks like in his clothes.Or out of them. He’d have to be pretty buff, though, right? No fatties withfloppy bellies.
Tyler took another pull from his beer bottle. A long, throat-pulsing pull.
Natalie turned for the kitchen. “Think I’ll have a beertoo.”
She didn’t realize he’d been on her heels until he said, “Sodid you have any luck today?” Startled, she spun with her bottle, and he heldout his hand. When she gave him a quizzical look, he nodded at the beer. “I’llopen that for you.”
Passing it to him, she told him, in minute detail, about theenormous rainbow she’d caught, her mouth galloping away from her.Tingles were zipping through her bloodstream, but they weren’t because of thefish.
Within minutes, she and Tyler were seated at her kitchentable, exchanging more barbs and laughing in a comfortable cadence. It was thebest time she’d had in a very long, long while, which was remarkable,considering she was pretty sure her sort-of boyfriend was about to dump her.
A minute became an hour, and she found herself not wantinghim to leave. Being with him made her forget her worries, and she wanted tohang on to the feeling. When was the last time she’d spent Saturday night likethis? So long ago.
“Are you hungry?” She got up and stuck her head in the fridge.“I can whip something up if you are. And I have more beer. OrCrown Royal. I like Crown myself. And it’s Ford’s suppertime, isn’t it?I’ll feed him.” Jeez, blither much?
Tyler laughed as though he were trying to slide out of anawkward situation—like the girl he didn’t like just asked him to a SadieHawkins dance while the hot girl he wanted to ask him hadn’t gotten toit yet and he was looking for a way to stall. Or like his dog-sitter wasgetting too friendly. Yeah, that.
He surprised her when he said, “I’ve been holding outfor the coffee cake, but I’m not seeing any encouraging signs.”
“I’m on it.” Her back to him, she began pulling ingredientsand measuring spoons from cupboards. Behind her, Tyler had grown very quiet.Maybe he’d been kidding. She pivoted on her heel and caught him staring at her,an unreadable look on his face. They locked eyes for a long, heated beat, andher tummy teeter-tottered.
“Um, so … coffee cake. I owe you … I mean, the door andall,” she babbled.
Why was the air suddenly thick and ripe as though chargedfor a lightning strike?
He stood abruptly and headed toward the back door to let Ford in. “I should probably go. I’ve got this thing …”
In Natalie’s life dictionary, thing translated to date.“Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to hold you up.”
He shot her a hazel-eyed glance. Lord, he had long lashes.“Although, I gotta say, coffee cake …
