Page 23 of The Chad Next Door
“Are you calling me heavy?”
He groans. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Do I know that? Because it sounded like you’re calling me heavy.”
“Do you willfully misunderstand people, or is it just part of your personality?”
He doesn’t sound annoyed enough to really mean what he’s saying, which makes it easier to keep the teasing banter going as he crunches his way into his yard.
“It’s a gift, I guess. But seriously, if you’re tired, I can—”
“I’m fine, Hope.”
Oh, I like the way he says my name. It sounds like a little prayer. A warm breath. I wish I could see the way his lips form the word because if we said it at the same time and got close enough, it would be a kiss.
Naturally, I decide to make things awkward as we reach his deck. “My name is actually Karen. Hope is my middle name.”
He pauses. “Your name is Karen?”
Though I would gladly stay in his arms forever, I drop my legs and let him guide my feet to the step in front of him, which puts me closer to eye level with him instead of having to look up to meet his gaze. “Karen Hope Duncan. I never liked the name Karen for myself. While I’ve known some lovely Karens, the name always made me feel like I should be perpetually forty and getting mad at janitors. Even when I was a kid. And yes, that was before the meme. I’m notthatyoung.”
He chuckles. It’s not the laugh I heard before my shower, but it’s still a beautiful sound because it comes with a little half-smile that keeps my attention riveted on his mouth. “You keep saying that, but you’re the one who was afraid of a tiny spider.”
“That thing was huge!”
“It was the size of a nickel.”
“Exactly!”
He reaches his hands out, one on each railing on either side of me, and it feels like he’s pinning me in so I can’t run away. Who in the world would ever run away with a man like this beefcake staring them down? “Rewinding a little bit, I reallywasabout to chop some wood because we’re supposed to have a storm coming in this weekend. The power lines aren’t great out here, so I want to be prepared in case we lose power. I’ll chop some for you too.”
My heart jumps into an eager rhythm that probably isn’t healthy. “Wait, are you going to chop some right now? Can I watch?”
He drops his head, shaking it a bit before he looks back up at me. “Do you say every thought that comes into your head?”
His voice has gotten growly over the last couple of minutes, and I resist telling him how much I like the roughness of it. The same way I like the roughness of his cheek, though I have yet to actually touch it. But to argue his question, no. I don’t say everything that comes into my head, or else I might lose the chance to examine his face right now as he waits for my answer.
The lights from his house throw his features into sharp relief, highlighting each line and wrinkle and making his blue eyes brighter than normal. His eyes are rimmed with navy on the outside and almost gray in the center, and they seem to see everything as he studies me in turn. He really isn’t that old, but parts of his face tell a different story. The way his eyes pinch at the corners, laugh lines spreading out past his nose and around his mouth, a scar stretching the skin right above his left eyebrow. There are a lot of stories in his skin; I can feel it. I want to know them all.
“I only ever say things I mean,” I say eventually. “And there are a lot of things I still don’t say.”
“Things you don’t mean?”
“Things I’m afraid to let anyone hear.”
He leans in, and my breath catches. “Are you afraid of me?”
I’m terrified, but not because he’s gruff or strong or commanding. Not even because he’s so much older. I’m afraid of how quickly I’ve fallen under his spell in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever break out of. I don’t even know this man, but I feel like I should. I know Iwantto know him, which is enough for me.
He doesn’t wait for my response, taking my hands and stepping back once, pulling me with him so I’m forced off the step and once again below him. Then he presses the softest of kisses to my forehead, making me melt beneath his gentle touch.
Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m done for, and I don’t even care.
Duke barks in the house, and Chad takes another step back with a little shake of his head, as if he needs the distance to remember where he is. “Goodnight, Hope,” he says, the words rumbling through him, and then he steps past me and disappears into his house.
I stay outside for a few minutes, but the brisk fall air does nothing to cool me down.
Chapter Eleven
