Page 7 of Keeping It
“Are you talking about yourself or me?” I say, picking up a clean brush and dipping it into the bright white. “I’ll work on trim.”
Tyler nods. “I’m talking about anyone who the statement can apply to. I’m really not big into talking,” he says, flicking his gaze down to meet mine. A shiver rakes my whole body.
I laugh nervously. “Okay. Are you some kind of robot? How do you live without speaking to other humans?”
He sighs. “All the humans I’m surrounded with don’t ask me questions…like that,” he explains. “It’s easy that way. Less complicated. You seem like an uncomplicated person and you also seem like you could use a hand.”
Carefully, and slowly, on my knees, I brush the baseboards until the standard cream color turns white. I’m not sure if being uncomplicated is a compliment or an insult, and I think it was a purposeful tactic used to confuse me even further. “Maybe if you talked more you wouldn’t be here,” I say, trying to engage in a different direction. It’s rude to dodge questions, but he didn’t ask any questions. Not flat out, anyways.
“It might be a good thing I’m here,” he replies almost before the statement left my mouth.
“I talk all the time and my life is easy,” I argue.
He grins, it’s sharp and full of an emotion I can’t put my finger on. “I think you just proved my point, darling. That said, it seems your life isn’t well rounded either. You don’t have a boyfriend or he’d be here rolling paint, and you have a hard time making decisions.”
My brush drops into the paint tray. “Excuse me? I make thoughtful decisions. You’re just a brute and a bully.” I have to remind myself how this man got inside my house to begin with.
“Ah, so no boyfriend. Gotcha’. What happened? Was it him or was he just not that into you?” he grins.
“I didn’t invite you in to let you insult me,” I snarl. “You annoyed your way in here. The least you can do is act like a civil gentleman!”
He drops his roller so the end hits the floor and faces me. “I didn’t come here to be interviewed,” Tyler replies, and his eyes narrow as he lets his gaze slide from the top of my head down to my feet, leaving a trail of fire on my skin. “And I’m not civilized.” Tyler licks his lips, then shakes his head. “Not anything even close to a gentleman, either.” He leans his head to one side and then the other, like he’s stretching after a workout. I’m left breathless, in a state so unfamiliar, my body feels like a traitorous enemy.
“Why did you come here?” I raise on brow, challenging him to do something he doesn’t want to do. Talk. And because I’m breathless, wondering how in the world this man can affect me so swiftly when no other man in the past has, and surely they’ve tried, right?
He pauses, stares me down once again, and then turns away and starts painting again. I clear my throat and sigh to the roof. “Boyfriends take time. Time is precious to me. I’d rather be doing other things. Like flying planes or working on engines, or helping my parents. It’s my choice to be single, and quite honestly I enjoy doing house projects on my own,” I say, slinging one hand on my hip. “Key words: on my own.”
He nods, his face thoughtful and dips the roller again. A drop of white paint lands on his burly, tattooed forearm. I watch it slide a few centimeters as he works the roller up and down.
“I came here because it’s fun to…annoy you, and believe it or not, I don’t have very many friends here,” he replies, smiling. That brings my gaze to his face.
Pressing my lips together I remark, “You don’t say? Most people respond better to kindness than intimidation. Just for your information.” I offer him something to drink and he declines, I offer him to sit down on the sofa and take a breather and he declines. I give up on trying to talk to him or trying to get anything more from him than an arm with a paint roller in it.
After I finish painting the baseboard against the longest wall, I start making dinner. “Are you hungry?” I call across the room. It’s an open floor plan. One huge room with everything except my bed and bathroom which is behind a half wall in the far corner. My damn southern hospitality kicks in as I envision my mother telling me to be a good host.
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Tyler replies, appearing from the side. “Please, that is. If you’re cooking. I would love to eat.” His smile widens, then he pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth.
Before he sees me blush, I look away. “So you’re nice when I leave you alone for a while? Noted. I was going to make a grilled chicken salad,” I explain, opening the fridge, and then the freezer just to see what supplies I have. “Is that okay?” I pull the ingredients out before he has time to respond.
“Not so much leaving me alone, more about talking about things I’m agreeable to.”
“Food is okay to talk about, but anything personal is off limits?” I ask. “Where I come from it’s rude to be in male company without a buffer. I don’t even know you, other than you want to take my airport from me. I feel like you should offer me something of substance.” I light the pilot on my oven and pull out two plates from above the sink. Tyler’s gaze pierces through me. “Or you can stand there and stare at me like a creep,” I add on, opening the drawer for the silverware I’ll need.
I feel him then, his body heat against my back. Tyler smells like dried sweat and a faint hint of sweetness mixed with paint. I swallow hard. “I told you I’m not a gentleman, Caroline. I don’t play by the rules. For me, there are no rules, just what I want and what you’re willing to give me.”
I spin to face him and I lose my breath. He looms large, his massive chest at eye level, his crystal blue eyes challenging me—taunting me. “You can’t have my airport,” I say.
Tyler throws his head back and laughs, his muscular neck widening and rippling as I watch in awe. “What do you want to know?” he asks, when he finally stops laughing.
Folding my arms across my chest, I ask, “Are you making fun of me?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not at all.” Backing away from me, he releases me from his masculine spell. How confusing, how embarrassing.
“Tell me the basics. Where are you from, your family, you know? Typical things friends discuss.”
“You said you weren’t my friend.” Tyler tilts his head to the side, hitting me with a smarmy grin.
My stomach flips, and my heart rattles against my chest. He saves me from responding by humming briefly. “I am the product of the Navy. My dad served and we moved all over the world while I was growing up. The longest time I’ve ever been somewhere was when I lived in San Diego, after I became a SEAL. The Teams gave me my first true home. The brotherhood provided me with the only siblings I’ll ever have. My Dad is retired now and him and my Mom live in Northern California.” Tyler pauses. “I visit them every once in a while, but they know my life. They respect my decision, so they’re less needy than other families.” He leans against the counter with one large hand, his fingers tracing the edge of the white marble.
