“Earth to Rissa.” Travis’ deep voice rolled through me like a wave, tugging me away from my reflections. His shortened address felt warm, intimate. No one had ever called me that before. “If you’re finished ogling me, I’m going to head back to my place.”
I felt the heat rise in my face. Yes, I had been ogling him, but I’d zoned out for the last couple of minutes. I don’t know what bothered me more – the fact that he’d caught me in the act or that I’d wasted several minutes of prime ogling time.
“I’m done,” I said casually, waving my hand in a shooing gesture. “You can go now.”
He grinned cockily. “Lasagne.”
“That’s what I want for dinner. Lasagne. With lots of meat and that chunky homemade sauce of yours.”
I blinked, looking at him blankly.
“Our deal,” he reminded me. “You get manual labor. I get food. Your roof is fixed. And I’m hungry for lasagna.”
“Right,” I nodded. I knew that. I did.
He leaned down and petted Ripper, who had become my shadow. The scent of clean male sweat and heat-activated deodorant tickled my nose and I discreetly filled my lungs with it.
“I’ll be back around sundown. And Rissa?”
“Don’t stare at my ass while I’m walking away. It’s objectifying.”
I openly gaped at him, but he just winked and strutted – yes, strutted – out of my kitchen like a big male peacock.
I showed him, though. I stared at his ass the whole way.
Copyright © 2014 – 2018 Abbie Zanders.
Written by Abbie Zanders.
All rights reserved.