Page 62 of Even If the Sky is Falling
His smile turns wistful. “Yeah. When I was a kid he’d let me help with projects around his house. When I got older I’d go to job sites and help him. He taught me everything I know about home construction and remodeling. I named my business after him, actually. To honor his memory.”
I recall that the name of his company is Pop Pop’s Desert Paradise Remodeling.
I make the corniestawwsound ever and lean forward, gently gripping his arm. “Oh my gosh! ‘Pop Pop’ is what you called your grandpa? Of course! Pop Pop Remodeling! That is so cute, Caleb. And so beautiful. Your grandpa would be so proud.”
Caleb glances down at my hand, which is gripping the thick flesh of his forearm. And that’s when it hit just how inappropriate I’m being. I’m lunging at the poor guy.
“Sorry,” I mutter, quickly pulling my hand away and scooting back.
I down more water and quietly decide to cut myself off from the bourbon.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”
The soft growl of his voice compels me to glance up at him. He flashes a small smile, like he’s trying to comfort me. What a guy. Here I am tipsily clawing at his body and he’s being such a gentleman about it.
A beat later his smile turns more relaxed and his gaze lingers on me. “Being felt up by a hot woman has been the highlight of this day.”
His words have me stammering. I go quiet, cupping a hand over my mouth and lean back, sinking deeper into the couch. Caleb shakes his head, his expression twisting like he’s tasted something bitter.
“Crap, I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have said that. That’s so inappropriate given the situation.”
I pull my hand away from my face. “The situation?”
He rakes his fingers through his gold-blond locks and huffs out a breath. “Yeah. We just met. We’re stuck together for the next...who knows how long, and here I am making comments about your looks. It’s because of all the alcohol I’ve had, but still, that’s no excuse. What I said was creepy.”
A pink flush makes its way up his neck and cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Jocelyn—”
A sudden boldness, likely from all the bourbon I just consumed over the past few hours, powers through me. I lean forward and cup Caleb’s deliciously scruffy face in my hands.
“It wasn’t creepy. Not even close.”
“It wasn’t?” he mumbles, a dazed look in his hazel eyes.
I shake my head. “No, because I think you’re hot too.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “You do?”
I nod. “That’s why I was so stunned and speechless when I first saw you with my glasses on. I was so taken aback at, um...how hot you are.”
“Oh. I thought you looked that way because you were freaked out about the siren.”
“Well, yeah, I was. But I was also freaked out by your hotness.”
The worry melts from his expression as he grins. He reaches up and gently wraps his hands around my wrists, my hands still cradling his face.
“Are you still freaked out?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.
“No.”
He shifts slightly; we’re nearly nose to nose.
“How do you feel now, Jocelyn?”
His hot, wet breath skims my lips.
“I feel like I want to kiss you.”
