As long as this lasted, he didn’t have a lot to give. He didn’t have lots of money. He didn’t have a cush pad. He didn’t drive a Mercedes.
But he could carry a fucking bag.
She thought better of it and he knew that when her body melted into his and she said, “Okay, Hap. You carry my bags.”
“Awesome,” he muttered.
She gave him a tentative smile and moved away.
He grabbed her bag, put it in the cab, and asked as she rounded the hood, “Everything locked down?”
She nodded, her long, thick fantastic hair sliding all over her shoulders and down her back. “Yes. All ready.”
She’d climbed in. He had too. He pulled out and they’d been on their way.
It was awkward for the first five minutes, and then Luci started chattering.
Nothing new. Luce had always been a talker.
She did this until they hit a diner Hap liked that was halfway between him and her. She did this during dinner. She did this after they got back in his truck and headed out.
He had to admit, Luci at his side, listening to her throaty, sexy, accented voice blathering at him on a trip he took usually blasting out metal and not minding the time or distance, got a fuckuva lot better.
Now he was pulling into his garage with her at his side, his house spic and span for her visit, food in the fridge, clean sheets on the bed, and he was asking himself for the five hundredth time what the fuck he was doing, as he put the truck into park and switched off the ignition.
You take care of your children until you die.
Shit.
I like nice things. I have the means to get them. I’ll even desire to get some of them for you. But I’ll do that in a way that does not make you uncomfortable, if you return that favor by not making me feel uncomfortable I have those means.
Shit, fuck.
She made it sound like they could work.
She made it sound like they did work.
You take care of your children until you die.
And that was just . . .
Jesus.
It was just the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard in his life.
He got out, reached in and grabbed her bag.
She got out chattering.
“Oh, I’m going to do this. This is marvelous. This is everything.”
He rounded the hood, hit the button to bring down the garage door and then looked at her.
She was staring at his peg wall that had some tools and garden equipment on it.
He had to admit, that wall was the shit.
His house was a disaster (until he cleaned it).
His garage was the bomb. Everything organized, maintained, in its place.
He didn’t so much as have to spend five minutes looking for a screw if he needed it. He knew he had what he needed (because he also kept everything stocked, no being woken in the middle of the night by fire alarms that needed their batteries changed—he had the batteries and he changed them on a rota before those bastards even beeped they were kinda pissed).
His grandfather taught him that.
The thing was, he hadn’t seen even a portable blower in Luci’s garage.
“You do your own yard?” he asked.
She looked at him. “No. But in the future, as we get our feet wet, and continue to do so, are you going to allow me to carry on paying my landscapers to see to my beach grass and planters?”
Was she high?
“Hell no.”
She smiled at him and tossed her head to his wall. “So I’ll need a wall like this.”
He’d give her a wall like that.
So you do got something to give, don’t you, asshole?
Shit.
Fuck.
“You wanna get inside or you wanna go through my lockers?” he asked, jerking his head to the opposite wall where he had the bright red cabinets, drawers and lockers installed.
Luci looked that way and stated, “I like the red.”
Of course she did.
“Babe, it’s after eleven. Let’s get inside so I can show you around, we can fit a quickie in, and I can pass out.”
The smile he got from that was a lot bigger.
It also shot straight to his dick.
He opened the door, held it for her and she walked through it.
He followed her, right into the kitchen.
When he got the house, he’d been dating a woman for a while that he’d liked and thought would stick around, and maybe they’d build more, so he’d gone for some upgrades.
There were tile and hardwood floors, not linoleum and laminate. The countertops were granite. The cabinets whisper closed. The fireplace was gas. And there was some shelving, segmented, lined drawers and shit in the master closet he’d thought a chick would dig.
He’d finally gotten around to that woman finding out about his dad, this being when his father showed up, out of money and wanting Hap to believe he was half a second away from panhandling. He’d laid it on thick, even if he saw Hap had company, or maybe because he had company, and when things did not progress as he would have liked, his father had lost his mind.
Hap worked out so he could eat junk food. Sure, he did the protein shake gig, and was smart about fueling for a workout with decent food. But he was a stick-to-your-ribs, meat and potatoes (including potato chips) guy, had a physically demanding job where he was expected to stay in top shape, so he did.
Not exactly ancillary to that, he worked out to keep his mood level.
Luci was a fiery Italian.
Back in the day, Hap’s temper could flash at a blink. It was ugly. It could get physical. And he’d thought he had no control over it.
He’d lived, aged and learned. The Army had helped . . . a lot.
His dad was a match though, and Hap was his tinder.
In other words, that visit had not gone well and the tell-all after it about his father to his woman had not gone better.
And his temper had scared the shit out of her.
Exit woman.
The story of his life.
Which brought him to now, Luci wandering into his living room that he had to admit had pretty boss furniture, since he liked to be comfortable but didn’t like to piss away money, so he bought the good stuff that would last, not stuff he’d have to replace in a few years.
He dumped her bag by the opening from kitchen to living room.
“You have three TVs,” she remarked.
He looked to the three TVs and back to her.
“Yup.”
She turned to him. “Why do you need three TVs?”
He actually had five. One in his bedroom. One in his workout room. And the three there.
As far as he knew, Luci had one hanging on the wall in her white living room, another one for her guests in the downstairs suite.
And that was it.
Then again, her view from her bed was the ocean and even he wouldn’t stick a TV in front of that.
“Sunday ticket,” he explained.
“What?” she asked.
“Sunday ticket, Luce. I can watch three games simultaneously on three TVs.”
For a second, she looked confused. It didn’t last long. Her beautiful face brightened with humor and he caught sight of her perfect, white teeth.
Time for that quickie.
“I fear, next to the word ‘man’ in the American dictionary, there’s a picture of you,” she noted.
Okay, maybe not time for that quickie.
Time for a little more of Luci being cute.
He leaned a shoulder against the jamb. “Why is that a fear?”
“I actually don’t know,” she replied. “In fact, I think I’ll call the dictionary people, tell them about you and suggest it if it’s not there already.”
He grinned at her.