Page 117 of Not That Ridiculous

He flexed to his feet. “One day, I’ll do you with just my tool belt and boots on if you like.”

I nearly swallowed my tongue.

“Maybe these, too?” He held my gaze as he slowly dragged on a pair of heavy-duty work gloves. “They really help with your grip.”

Oh my god.

“Maybe now?” I said.

“Mhm.” He sauntered over to the bed and lifted my chin on a finger. “Think I’m gonna make you wait for it.”

I floundered for a witty comeback and couldn’t seem to bring my brain online. Kevin gave me a cocky grin and sauntered back over to his tools.

I’d made him a latte earlier. While I was doing that, he’d isolated the upstairs circuits in the fuse box and used a multimeter to check for any wiring or pipes that might be behind the plaster, even though there were no power outlets on the wall.

“Normally,” he said, crouching down and balancing on the balls of his feet as he fiddled with his drill bits, “I’d use a pry bar to take the skirting board off first, but since we’re just having a little explore to find out what’s up with the hollow areas, I’ll drill a couple of holes and cut a section out.”

“And you’re absolutely sure it’s not a load-bearing wall?”

“Yeah. But even if the original wall is load-bearing, I’m not going to do any damage to it. I’m not gonna touch it. This—” he laid a hand on the wall by his shoulder, “—is a false wall. It’s not the actual wall. It’s not part of the structure of the house. It’s an add-on, and I’d guess it was done sometime around the seventies.” He paused thoughtfully. “Were you born then?”

I glared at him. “No.”

He rapped the wall and frowned. “From the sound of it, I’d say it’s plywood sheeting with some layers of plaster on top.”

“You can tell that…from the sound?”

“I’ve handled a lot of materials in my time. You get a feel for things.” He rapped again, then spread his fingers wide and gave it a cheerful slap before sorting through a small duffle bag that sat alongside his toolbox. He pulled out a dust mask with elastic straps and tossed it to me. “Put that on.” He took out another one for himself, and slipped a pair of safety goggles over his head.

“Do I need a mask?” I grimaced at it. “I’m nowhere near the wall. I’m all the way over here. On my bed. All lonely.”

He snapped his mask on and his eyes twinkled at me over the top. “This is old, degraded plaster. It’s nasty shit. Humour me, Charlie. I’ve been doing this job for a few years, and I’ve learned the hard way that safety precautions are there for a reason. Got the scars to prove it.”

“All right, all right.” I tugged the mask into place and gave him a thumbs-up.

He got his drill sorted and moved over to the wall. “Let’s see what’s behind here, shall we?” He set the bit to the plaster and buzzed the drill.

This wasn’t at all what I’d expected. I’d imagined him marching up to my room with a sledgehammer over his shoulder, bracing his feet, and going at it like a one-man wrecking ball.

It said a lot about how far gone I was for him that I’d have had no problem at all if that’s what he wanted to do.

Instead, he’d carefully prepared the area, he’d kitted both of us out with protection, and his approach was controlled and contained.

I tried not to get too hard about it.

The drill buzzed for about five seconds before he pulled it back and stood there, staring.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh. It went in easier than I expected, that’s all.” The drill was hanging loosely from one hand. With the other, he brushed at the wall. He shrugged, then positioned the drill and buzzed it a few more times before he switched it off, put it down by his toolbox, and picked up a slender saw. He slid me a look. “You want to come on over?”

I was on my knees at the end of the bed watching him, and I nodded.

He waited for me to reach his side and slid an arm around my waist. “Is my drilling getting you hot?” he said behind his mask. I knew he was smiling from the tone of his voice.

“Of course not. This is me on tenterhooks to find out what’s behind the wall. I’m hoping for a built-in shelving unit.” I don’t think I sold it. For one thing, he must have felt my erection against his hip. For another, I was too busy gazing into his sweet brown eyes to spare the stupid wall a glance.

He dropped a hand and gave my bum a frisky squeeze. “Let’s see how you like my sawing then.”

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