Page 64 of Feels Like the First Time
Chapter 13
Exhausted and covered from head to toe in little bits of metal and sawdust, Ali dropped the sander down on the workbench and flipped up her mask. The sun was barely setting on Saturday, and Ali was ready for bed. With Bridget taking care of Marty, Ali had been able to work on the commissioned piece around the clock for the past few days—a luxury she hadn’t had since his heart attack.
And it showed in her work. The structure was exactly what she’d pictured in her mind. Clean steel wrapped around driftwood and old cider barrels, secured with vintage bronze railroad nails. It was strong and powerful, but had an element of femininity, a sensual shape to the lines that she’d never used in her work before.
Rubbing her tired eyes, Ali promised her bed that as soon as she cleaned up, they could hyphenate together for a few weeks. It was a lie, of course. She only had until tomorrow morning, when she was scheduled to deliver the piece to her client.
Too tired to take off her coveralls, Ali closed up the shop and headed upstairs for a cold drink. She had a nice aged Scotch that she pulled out for these kinds of occasions.
Needing a celebration and a nightcap all in one, she poured two fingers over ice and set the glass on the counter. She unzipped the top of her coveralls and, letting them hang off her hips, took a seat at the counter as she took the first sip.
The smooth liquid burned all the way down her throat, loosening the tension behind her shoulders. She took another, and when the fiery heat reached her belly, she did a quick one-two and removed her bra.
Ali let out a relieved moan and rolled her shoulders. She loved her work, but all of the heavy materials and equipment tended to take a toll on her body.
Afraid she’d fall asleep if she didn’t move, Ali stood and stretched, walking to the windows to watch the sun take its final dip into the bay. The gas lamps on Main Street gave a warm glow, showcasing the hive of activity below. Weekend tourists sifted through the quaint mom-and-pop shops, families were enjoying a weekend stroll, and across the parking lot, a good portion of Destiny Bay was getting its Happy Hour on.
Ali considered going next door, ordering a drink, and celebrating the moment with friends. But that would require a shower, a fresh change of clothes, and seeing her sister—who was taking Marty to the grill for dinner.
But it would also mean seeing Hawk. Ali’s body hummed to life at the thought, and those flutters, which had been bothering her all week, kicked it up to wild flock levels in her stomach.
It was pathetic really, she thought with a smile. It had been only three days since their kiss that spurred the great stick debate, and she already missed him. Her gaze traveled to his bedroom window and paused when she saw a shadow move from inside.
Pretty sure he was already at the bar, and wondering if maybe he’d come back up to grab something, Ali walked closer to the window. When she still couldn’t get the view she wanted, she pressed her face closer, until she was leaving little hot breath marks on the pane.
Her eyes trained in on a single focus point, she held still and watched, sipping her Scotch. After a long moment, she decided she was just tired and went to head to the bathroom when the light across the parking lot clicked on and—Sweet baby Jesus!
Ali spun to her left, plastering her back against the wall. The quick movement sent her Scotch over the side of the glass, and her heart plummeting to her toes.
Because right there, on the other side of the window, walking from the bathroom to his closet, was Hawk. Wearing nothing but shower water, a towel, and a sexy hawk tattoo over his right shoulder.
Ali waited a good minute, to be sure if he had seen a suspicious movement, say by a peeper, that he’d moved on. No matter how many times she told herself to knock it off, to go take a cold shower and stop being a creeper, she couldn’t resist one last stare.
One look out the window and her mouth went dry—the exact opposite of what was going on below the equator. Because instead of finding him looking through his closet—he was looking at her.
Arms resting on the windowsill above his head, the bottom sill cutting him off right where the towel started, he focused his gaze directly on her, that double-barreled smile out for good measure.
Then he added a little lift of the brow, which turned the smile into a grin and implied a certain level of male smugness. A little male smugness was okay, she decided, since it had been male supremeness that had her staring in the first place.
She lifted her glass in toast, and when he winked, she took a sip. Then her phone rang. She looked at the number and back to the window.
One hand was still supporting his weight on the sill, making his arm go into Hulkian mode. The other hand was holding his phone to his ear. He waved his pinkie her way.
With a smile, she swiped Answer.
“You aren’t very good at the whole window-watching thing,” Hawk said. “The point is not to get caught.”
The sips of Scotch must have already started working, or maybe it was fried brain cells from seeing Hawk nearly naked. “I actually like it when you watch me watching you.”
She heard his breath go gruff through the phone. “Sunshine, if I didn’t have to go run the bar, I could watch you all night.”
“I won’t keep you then,” she said, letting her coveralls fall to the floor, leaving her in a tank top and boy-cut panties.
“Luke can cover the bar for a few more minutes.” Even though the light was behind him, shadowing him in a silhouette, she could still feel those intense dark brown eyes zeroed in on her. “All those times I’d sit with you in your shop and throw back a beer while you were in your coveralls, you were wearing—”
“Nothing but panties,” she finished and plopped down on the couch, then flicked on the light behind her so he had a clear view.
Watching him through the window was hot. Him watching her? So erotic she felt her body dampen. “And all of those times you were watching hockey from your bed, you could have been watching this.”
