Page 60 of Passion at the Lake

“Take the old one out, and put the new one in. That’s the whole list.”

I always worked with a checklist. It was the organized thing, the smart thing. “There have to be installation instructions for us to follow.”

“How many water heaters have you put in?”

I swallowed. “None. That’s why I was—”

“Questioning my ability?” he filled in.

Oops, now I was the insulter. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

He was quiet.

“What can I do next?” I asked before adding, “Sir?”

He grunted once as he tugged on the wrench. “Just stand back for the moment, please.”

If he added that I should look pretty while I did so, I’d clobber him with his own hammer. When he didn’t, it was time for me to take the high road. “Sorry I snapped at you.”

“Not a problem, Angel. I appreciate the help and didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t know you had a degree.” He’d called me Angel back when I was his girlfriend, and he hadn’t used the term once since I’d returned. Had he used it on purpose or had he slipped up?

“We’re cool then?” I asked.

He nodded as he strained against the tool “As cucumbers.”

I settled back to see who would win this battle: the rusted, old fittings of the plumbing or Boone.

As he strained against the wrench, powerful back and shoulder muscles rippled under his shirt, stretching it almost to the breaking point. I caught myself drifting back to this afternoon and remembering him backlit in the hallway of the B wing. The lighting here wasn’t as good, but given the tight quarters, the view was even better. I made myself look away from his ass, but that meant I focused on his tapered back, broad shoulders, and powerful arms. He was more than BG, the Butt God, much more.

He had been the star of our football team, and the way he’d looked in that uniform—merely recalling the image made my cheeks heat. Why did such a rotten personality have to be housed in such a lick-worthy body?

When he’d asked me out our senior year, I’d thought it was a prank. He had to repeat it two more times before I agreed. It didn’t make sense that the star football player was asking out the class nerd, but he’d meant it.

For a few months, I’d gone from invisible in school to being someone—Boone Benson’s girlfriend. The memory filled me with warmth. I’d thought of him constantly, and looked forward to taking that big leap to womanhood with him.

He growled a few times as he struggled with the wrench.

I blinked back the question that formed in my mind. Was that what he sounded like in bed? We hadn’t gone that far, although I would have been willing to a few weeks later, after the winter formal.

I knew one of the guys on the team had gotten his older brother to book a few rooms for couples after the dance. I’d wondered, even hoped that Boone might have gotten involved in that.

Boone turned and brought me back to the present. “Could you hand me the hammer, please?”

I leaned over to find it among his tools.

When I stood, he’d pulled up the hem of his shirt to mop his brow.

My eyes fell to his sculpted abs as I offered the hammer to him. AG, the Ab God had to be added to his description.

I turned away to hide the heat in my cheeks. BG, SG, AG—why was I having these thoughts about my own personal devil?

My runaway mouth unintentionally filled the silence. “Stacy seems nice.”

“She is.”

“You two good friends?” I asked. What a stupid question.

Without turning, he answered, “No.”

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