Page 13 of Mistletoe Omega
He studied me silently.
“Anyways.” I turned back to the drilling.
He surprised me when he crouched beside me. “Why did you drill from the inside out?” he asked.
“It gives you a cleaner cut.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
I held out the drill. “You want to do one?”
He recoiled, looking nervous. “Oh, God. I might fuck it up.”
He started to stand, and I grabbed his wrist. “Wait. I’ll show you how.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “But I don’t know anything about this stuff.” His voice was soft.
I tugged him back down beside me, and I smiled reassuringly. “I’m right here.” I let go of him and pushed the drill into his hands. “When you push this orange button here...” I demonstrated, and the drill buzzed loudly. “It will spin the bit. Just place the bit over the marks I’ve made and keep it level.”
A tremble went through him. “I don’t know about this, Graham.”
I leaned into him and held his worried gaze. “You’ll be fine. Nobody knows how to do this stuff until someone shows them. Come on. I trust you.”
He swallowed and took the drill from me. “It’s heavy.” He laughed unsteadily.
I winked and flexed my bicep. “That’s how I got these guns.”
He laughed, and some tension left his face. He set the drill bit against the fiberglass, taking his time to line it up perfectly with the marks I’d made. “How’s this?” His voice was hesitant.
I put my hands over his, and he looked up. Our faces were only a few inches apart, and it wasn’t lost on me that his gaze dropped to my mouth. Something stirred inside me at the look he gave me, but I pushed it down. “You’ll need to put pressure on the drill, or it will try to kick back at you.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
I liked the feel of his warm flesh undermine, but I moved my hands away. “Let her rip.”
“Shit,” he said breathlessly, as he pushed the button. The drill whirred to life, and he held it steady as it spun and spit pieces of plastic across the surface of the wall. “Is this right?” he yelled over the noise.
I grinned and patted his back. “You’re doing great.”
After a few seconds, the drill pushed all the way through the fiberglass, and he grunted and took his finger off the trigger. Then he smiled at me. “Did I do it right?”
“Yep.” I was pleased at how proud he seemed of himself.
“I actually drilled something?”
I chuckled. “You’re all growed up.” I squeezed his shoulder, enjoying the feel of hard muscles bunched under his shirt.
His husky laugh made my chest tighten. “I’ve officially used a power tool.” He met my gaze again. “Shall I drill the other holes?”
I nodded, glad he seemed more confident now. “Yes. Absolutely.”
He repeated exactly what he’d done the first time, and once all the plumbing holes were done, he set the drill down and stood. “God, I finally get it. I’ve never understood why guys liked power tools, but now I do.”
I laughed. “Maybe next week I’ll teach you how to repair a toilet ball-cock.”
He smirked. “Okay, now you’re just flirting.”
Heat swept through my cheeks, and I turned away. “Tempting. But you’re too young for me, kid.”
