Page 39 of Just This Once

“Thanks for letting me in on your workspace.”

She blinks away any lingering emotion and nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”

I wink. “Mm-hmm. Yep.”

Chapter 13

Taryn

It’s cold, but Dante appears unaffected as he works outside in only a hoodie and jeans. And his bandanna, of course. He knocked on my door this morning to ask if he could use the backyard to build a project, and I easily agreed, although I’m not sure how exactly he’s going to move that…shed—I think—wherever it needs to go. He’s been hauling wood, sawing, and hammering all day, but it’s only since reheating my coffee for the third time that I’ve been here at my kitchen table. Watching.

It started out of curiosity, but I stayed for the Billy Joel soundtrack and the way his jeans fit his ass. He’s so at home in his body, flipping the hammer end over end as he plucks a nail from between his lips before pounding the pieces together. It’s a dance. The way he works is beauty.

How he understood what I meant when I said I loved making things with my hands. He does the same thing. We both are artists. Creators. Making the world beautiful one ceramic mug and refinishedporch at a time.

The renovation at The Nest is coming along well, and here, as a tenant, Dante has been incredibly easy to have around. I had my reservations about him, but once again, he’s proven me wrong. By his looks, anyone might assume he’s all brawn and no brains, but he’s so much more than his face. He’s a good listener and an even better friend. He’s thoughtful, funny, charming as hell, and masculine without being toxic.

A true unicorn.

With a six-pack, thick thighs, and the ability to actually build a girl a house, if they asked.

Not that I would ask.

I have a house already.

But…if someone else wanted one…

Which makes me wonder about that girlfriend he’d broken up with. What happened there? Because everything I’ve seen of Dante is all green flags.

Much to my dismay.

He squats down, eyeing something on the wood, then takes the pencil from behind his ear to make a mark before sticking it back in place. He stands and moves the 2x4 over to the circular saw. I blow out a breath and force my attention away, suddenly a little warm from all the competency porn.

Needing a break from leering at the man a dozen years my junior, I meander into the living room, where Maddie is sprawled out on the couch, her eyes glued to the TV, her phone clutched in her hand. She glances up as I enter, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Hey, Mom,” she says, her voice soft and squeaky like an elf. It’s the voice she uses when she wants something.

“Yes?”

“Can we order Benny’s for dinner?”

I cross my arms, playing at annoyance. “You paying?”

“Pleeeeaaaase. I’m so hungry for it. PMS.”

I huff. She got her period over the summer and uses PMS as a reason for everything with me now. If she wants something special or as an excuse to get out of something. It’s smart, really. But I caught on quick enough to her evil plan.

“Yeah, all right. Only because I’m PMSing too.”

She wiggles back and forth, giddy. “I was going to watchWickedlater. Wanna watch with me?”

“Again?”

“Director’s cut this time.”

I shrug. “Lemme talk to your brother and see if Holden’s staying for dinner.”

Holden and Jake have been best friends since they met last year on the soccer team and they hang out a lot, so I assume he’s going to stay for dinner and don’t even think before I open the door to my son’s room to find them kissing.

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