Page 24 of Damsel in Defense
I can’t stop grinning.
I step under the spray of the shower and let the water hit me square in the chest, hoping it might cool me down in more ways than one.It’s no use.My heart’s still thudding, not from the workout but from the way Victoria had looked at me just now—like I was a dessert tray and she hadn’t had sugar in years.
What does it say about me that I absolutely loved the reaction?We’re supposed to be just friends, business partners working together for a happy outcome.
And all I could imagine was a happy ending…for both of us.
She could claim all she wanted that her muddled brain was due to the exhaustion of trying to build her bed frame alone, but I knew better.While she (tried) to talk, she kept looking down at my chest, and her cheeks bloomed an adorable dark pink.
The way her eyes had gone all wide and glassy, like she was trying to memorize every sweaty inch of me.And that rambling?Gold.Absolute gold.I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that flustered.And the part where she accused me of having “arms”?That’s going on my gravestone.
And now, I get to spend the next hour or so helping her build a bed frame.
Alone.In her apartment.Possibly sweating again.
On any other day, with any other person, that scenario would be my nightmare.Not to sound snobby, but I pay people to complete tasks like this so that I can focus on other things.My personal free time is far and few during the hockey season, and during the off, I just want to veg and relax, knowing it’s only for a short period.
Yet with Victoria, I’m looking forward to the time together.
And how hard could it be?Instructions are included for a reason.You just read and repeat the described action.Easy.
I towel off quickly, run a hand through my hair, and toss on a fitted T-shirt and jeans before heading down to her floor.I take the stairs, too amped up to wait for the elevator.
When I reach her door, I take a moment to catch my breath.I don’t want her thinking—or knowing—that I rushed to get back to her.
I’ve just pushed my damp hair out of my face again when I hear a crash from inside.I’m instantly in action.
I slam into the door.
What the hell?Why is the door locked?She knew I was coming.
Knocking, I hear her shuffling around, muttering something I can’t make out.Then the door opens, and there she is, still flushed, still slightly embarrassed, and still the most distracting woman I’ve ever met.
“Hey,” she says, stepping aside to let me in.
“Hi,” I say back, eyeing her up and down for injuries.“Did I just hear something fall?And why was your door locked?”
She rolls her eyes, an amused grin on her face at my question.
“I lock it for safety.Something you should be doing too.”
“But you knew I was coming,” I state, confused at her logic.Stepping into the condo, I follow her down the short hall.
“Yes, I did.But I don’t know who else is going to decide to visit me today uninvited.An obsessed fan, a murderer.Or worse yet, Girl Guides.”
“How are Girl Guides worse than a murderer?”
“Because I have no self-control when cookies are put in front of me.A murderer, I could probably fight off.A little girl in cute pigtails, wielding the weapon of sugar and carbs—I’m powerless.”
I chuckle, loving the way she thinks.
Following her deeper into her apartment, I fight not to stare at her ass as she walks ahead.I’m only so strong, so I sneak a peek or two.
When she turns into her room, I glance to the other side of the hall and notice two unopened boxes sitting in the middle of her second bedroom.The rest of the house seems to be unpacked, but these boxes almost look like they’ve been set up as a shrine.
I’m just about to ask about them when Victoria cuts me off.
“Thanks again for the help.”
