Page 22 of Spark
A knock at the door jolts me from my perusal of my space. Dragging a hand through my hair, I stride to the front door. As long as I can keep Finlay in the living room, he won’t have a chance to notice the rest of the house.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door. Dressed in a navy blue sweater and faded jeans, and holding a bottle of wine, Finlay smiles at me from the sidewalk. "Hey."
"Come in." I hold the door open as he climbs the five steps.
He pauses at the threshold and brushes a kiss to my cheek. I grip the doorknob as my equilibrium swirls before settling, but manage to close the door and follow him inside.
"I wasn’t sure what you were making, but rosé goes well with a lot of things." He hands me the bottle.
My insides are shaky. Him, in my space, is wild on so many levels. "Thanks. We’re having lasagna. Have a seat and I’ll open it now."
"This place is great." His voice follows me to the kitchen, and I can hear his footsteps pad from one side of the living room to the other. "I love the curves in the crown molding."
I find the corkscrew and open the bottle as fast as possible. Fear that he’ll come in hastens my movements. "Thanks,” I call out. “I did it myself. Cut out the wood when I couldn’t find the exact pattern I wanted."
A low whistle sounds. "No way. That’s amazing."
Wine splashes the counter as I pour two glasses. The stemless wine glasses were also gifts from Sofia and Eve. Clutching them, I hurry back to the living room.
Finlay is running his hand over the newel post at the end of the stairs. "This is really nice. It has the same lines as the molding."
"Yep. By design. I wanted aspects of the room to echo each other."
His eyes widen. "You made this too?"
"I like playing around with wood." Raising a brow, I hand him a glass.
His gaze darkens and then he smirks. "I do too."
I clink our glasses together. "Thanks for coming over."
"I was happy you asked." He holds my gaze as he sips the wine. The crisp fruity richness sits on my tongue. As good as it is, it would be even better if mixed with the taste of Finlay. His lips are shiny, tempting me. "I can’t believe you made this."
I look at the post again. "The first thing I did when I moved in was set up my workshop. The second thing was to make this."
"Where’s your workshop?"
"In the basement."
His eyes light with his smile. "Can I see it?"
I can’t deny him anything. "Sure."
The door to the basement is in the dining area, along the kitchen wall. We leave our wine on the table and I lead the way down. Aside from the washer and dryer, the workshop takes up the rest of the basement, which runs the full length of the house. Every tool is neat and organized, and I know where everything is.
Finlay circles my table saw, then stops by the workbench, eyeing the various saws, drills, hammers, and drivers. "This is impressive."
"I love it. I wish there were better lighting though." I point to the tiny windows at the top of the wall where it meets the ceiling. Every row home in Philly, that I know of, has them. "These don’t let in enough sunlight, and some projects are better done in natural light. I’d love to have a shop with easy access to an outdoor area someday."
He runs his finger over the edge of the lathe. "I wish I had talent like you do."
"I’m sure you have talents." Lust curls low in my gut and I slip forward until only two steps separate us. "Tell me one."
Finlay coils his finger around my belt loop and tugs me closer. "I think kissing you could be one."
My hands fall to his hips. "Youarevery good at that."
"I’ll demonstrate." He slides his arms around me and slowly brings his mouth to meet mine. Warm lips rub and coax, and I lose myself in his scent, taste, and feel.
