In the narrow space, we dance around each other in silence.

I’m busy sawing wood and installing shelves while Sophia stands on her tiptoes with the paint roller in hand, covering the grimy wall with a layer of vibrant yellow paint. The arch of her back and the definition in her calves makes my cock ache. She has no idea how sexy her body is, even in an old T-shirt, simple leggings and running shoes. It’s distracting. I nearly sawed through my finger twice looking at her.

When she peeks over her shoulder, she catches me staring. Her tongue rolls over her lips and she bats her eyes at me. Gorgeous. My gorgeous Daisy.

I’m her fucking slave.

I’m not even complaining.

She’s the kind of woman worth doing stupid shit for. That’s why, after running around with a group of rowdy toddlers all day, I made my way over here to Sophia’s future daycare center.

Despite the sizzling ache in my nerves. Despite the straining pull in my back.

Because you do that sort of shit when you love a woman.

Anyway, Charlie promised Sophia that Hartley Construction would take care of the painting for her. But he never got around to it. The guy has good intentions but he’s busy. That’s all right.

But Sophia is my woman. So, it’s my duty to help make her dreams come true. This is my contribution. Anyway, Nova somehow managed to swipe the key from Charlie for me and I’ve been here for the past two days after work, getting shit done.

I was hoping Sophia wouldn’t catch on to what I was doing until I was completely done setting everything up. I just wanted to see the heart-stopping expression that would eat up her face when she walked in here and saw everything in its place. I wanted to see her looking at me like I’m her damn hero. And I got that gratification when she walked in here an hour ago and she smiled that big smile at me.

I’ve made a lot of progress but I still have a long way to go. When the painting is done, there’ll be more shelves and safety gates to install. There’ll be piles of colorful plastic dishes to pack away in the cupboards and alphabet posters to stick to the walls. But we’ll get it done. Sophia and me, together.

It’s nearly 8:30 when she yelps. “Oh my gosh. I totally lost track of the time.” She sets the roller brush down in the paint tray.

I lift my safety goggles away from my eyes. “You gotta go?” I casually lean a hip against the table and cross my arms over my chest.

“Yeah,” she says as she grabs her thermal fleece sweater and purse from the nail I hammered into the wall as a makeshift coatrack. “I was only supposed to be gone an hour. My sister’s at my house watching—” She stops herself mid-sentence.

I step closer. “Your sister’s at your house watching what?”

She’s flustered. Her lips open and close without making any meaningful sound. Then she starts stammering. “I just—I—I just need to get home.” She slips the sleeves of her sweater up her arms as she’s heading for the door. “You have the keys, right? You can lock up?” She flips her ponytail out from inside the back of her shirt.

“Yeah, I have keys.” I make big strides across the room toward her. “Let me drive you home.”

She shakes her head vigorously. “Oh, no, no, no. You really don’t have to do that.” She zips up the front of her sweater then quickly checks the time on her phone. She’s a mess of frenetic energy. “The 61 bus is coming in exactly three minutes and if I miss it, I can catch the 37 at the next corner. And worst-case scenario, the 108 bus runs—”

I catch her by the wrist and spin her around. Her body twirls like a ballerina and our chests crash together. Her eyes are as wide with alarm as they are hot with lust. With my knuckles under her chin, I lift her face up to mine.

Her words are whispered as her self-control slips through her fingers. “The 108 bus runs…”

My massive fingers circle her skinny wrists, pinning both of her fisted hands to my chest. My entire being simmers with urgency. I lower my face and our foreheads tenderly land together. “I’m taking you home.”

“No…” It almost sounds like she’s begging.

This woman is so frustrating with her self-sufficiency. I get it. She’s independent. I’m not trying to take away from that. I’m just trying to make her life easier, so she can do more, be more. “Why won't you just let me love you, Sophia?"

She takes a shivering breath. Suddenly, she looks vulnerable. Terrified. "Because I'm scared that I'll wake up again and that I’ll realize you're not real. That you're just a dream. That you've always been just a dream."

My lips cover hers. I kiss her soft and slow but still the force of our connection is strong enough to bowl me over. I want to kiss her insecurities away.

I pull back before this kiss goes too far. “It’s real. I assure you that it’s real.” I stroke her cheek tenderly. “Come on, baby.” I lace my fingers through hers. “I’m taking you home.”