“Trust me,” I said.
“I do, more than anyone.” The gentleness of his tone made my heart hitch. Somehow, though we’d only slept together in the most literal sense, Rob had burrowed so deep inside me that it was terrifying.
Don’t panic, I told myself. You can rely on him. He’s not the leaving kind.
“After that, we can have lunch and work on fleshing out the website. My goal is to launch by Monday. I have some ideas on how to promote it. So be ready to take some orders.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In a tool belt, Rob was every bit as irresistible as I’d imagined. While he banged away in the kitchen, muscles flexing, he explained to the viewer what he was doing and why. His manner was easy, relaxed, and the camera loved him. So did I.
Shit, what...? But it was too late to put that insight back in Pandora’s box. This wasn’t a crush. It was Lurve. Capital L. Fuck, why? My first instinct was to run. My heartbeat went into overdrive and my intestines twisted up in knots. I couldn’t even see, let alone inhale, and I almost dropped the camera. Breathe, breathe. My palms started sweating.
“Lauren?” Rob had paused, frowning, hammer in hand, and he was coming toward me.
“I’m fine. I’m okay, I’m...awesome.”
Oh, God, don’t touch me. Not now. I might ravish you.
He cocked a brow, but he was smiling. “I agree.”
Then he went back to work. Somehow I silently talked myself into calming down. And because I’d promised him a certain outcome, I finished shooting.
A while later, the mini panic attack dealt with, I checked footage in the window on the back of the camera. “This looks fantastic. Did you come up with a name yet?”
“Unless you think it’s stupid, I like Rob the Builder.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t think there are any copyright issues. But I think that should be limited to your website. Your vlog segment needs a different title.”
“‘At Home with Rob’?” he suggested.
“Sounds great.” I went to work creating the video channel.
“Okay, then. I’ll make some lunch.”
“Do you mind if I take a few pictures of the furniture you’ve made?” He had the bed, the dining-room tables, chairs, a few pieces up in his room. “Finished pieces will show better.”
“Go for it.”
While he browned ground beef, I adjusted the lighting and shot some photos—not professional quality, but hopefully good enough to interest customers who were drawn to unique, handcrafted goods. After I connected the camera to my laptop, I questioned Rob about his goals, which I then typed up on the welcome page. Next I fleshed out the product page with the pictures and brief item descriptions. Now I just needed to write something in the “about” section. Over lunch, Rob helped me with that. His construction résumé was really impressive; he’d worked on a number of huge projects. But people would be more interested in the progress he’d made on the house.
“Do you have any ‘before’ pictures?”
“Huh?”
“Of the dining room and your bedroom?”
“Oh. Actually, yeah. Let me get my phone.”
I uploaded them to my laptop and spiced up the site further with before-and-after shots of the work he’d done. “There we go. That went a lot faster than I expected. Once I edit your vlog, upload it, link your site to the channel, then we’ll launch.”
“Today?” he asked.
“If I push, yes.”
“You’re amazing. Do you think anyone will even see all your hard work?”
“In time. I’ve learned a few things online. There are forums, places I can advertise you. It’ll take a little money, but it’s worth it. Have you been sticking to your budget?”
He frowned at me. “Yes. You’re saying I should spend my savings on this?”
“Not all, but some. It’s worth investing in your dreams, Rob. I believe in you, and you should, too.” If he refused, I’d use part of my paycheck and buy the ads myself.
“Okay. Just tell me what to do.”
Excited, I leaped up from the table and hugged him. “Just wait, you won’t be sorry. If things go like I hope, you’ll eventually be able to live on what you earn building furniture. You can set your own hours, be your own boss.”
“That would be incredible.” My enthusiasm fired his, and he swung me around in his arms, then buried his face in my neck. “I have never, ever been this happy.”
His words went to my head like expensive champagne. My throat closed, so I couldn’t speak. I just held him as hard as I could.
Rob went on in a whisper, “You’re making it really hard to wait.”
“Good,” I said.
I shouldn’t be the only one who’s sexually frustrated.
“But why are you still waiting?” There had to be a reason other than anticipation, and maybe his answer would help me cool off.
His lips moved over my neck, then he bit down gently. The smooth stroke of his palms up and down my spine almost made me forget I’d said anything. But then Rob cleared his throat, drawing back enough that I could see the heat blazing in his blue eyes.
“Because I want to be sure the timing’s right and that neither of us has any doubts. I don’t want us to regret anything, Lauren. Plus, I need to show Avery some respect. I feel guilty about that public kiss, so soon after the split, but I couldn’t help it. You were so damn cute and sexy—” He broke off, regrouping before he continued. “I couldn’t control myself then, so I have to now. For a little longer anyway. Until it feels...decent.”
Rob wasn’t always the best at articulating his thoughts and motivations, so I wasn’t 100 percent sure what to make of this. “Do you still have...feelings for Avery? Is that why you’re worried about her?” If he said yes, I might hyperventilate.
He shook his head immediately. “No. It’s about doing this the right way and me not feeling like an asshole over being with you.”
“Okay,” I said. “I won’t push.”
“I appreciate it. If you think this is easy, then you have no idea how much I want you or how long it’s been that way.”
“You could tell me.”
In response, he pulled me onto his lap, the hard length of him like hot metal beneath me. I resisted the urge to straddle him, sensing that wasn’t what he had in mind. Not yet, anyway. He cradled me against his chest, rubbing his cheek against my hair. I listened to him breathe, just waiting for him to speak.