I’ve got her.

She obviously doesn’t know who the landlord of the place is. I’m confident I’ve got permission because I’m the one who owns the damn place. But it’s kind of cute that she clearly has no idea.

I bought this property when I started buying up the places I wanted to renovate and turn into kitchens. This one was a steal because it’s a bad neighbourhood, but I didn’t get it for that. I wanted to do something good.

And the good I was doing was exactly what this place turned into.

“So how do you keep the tomatoes from dying?” Cindy asks, looking at the plant like she’s scared it’s going to bite her.

I can’t help but smile at her. “So you do know a thing or two about plants, then.” At least that tomatoes can’t grow in winter without some kind of special treatment.

She shrugs, her cheeks turning that cute shade of pink again. “They die if they freeze, right?” she says and I point to the light I’ve set up overhead.

“That plus a temporary greenhouse means we’re in business.” I sweep a hand in the direction of the greenhouse I’d picked up. It’s not one you walk in, it’s one that’s about four feet tall and will change the zone of the plants to allow us to grow several things we’d never get to enjoy in winter otherwise. “Help me set it up,” I urge, pushing her gently.

She crosses her arms, clearly considering telling me no.

So I add, “It’s temporary, so if the landlord has an issue, I can take it down easily.”

Her lower lip disappears into her mouth and I know she’s considering it. And she relents, her arms dropping to her sides as she steps forward, her eyes on the greenhouse box. “What do you need me to do?” she asks, and I breathe a silent prayer of relief that she’s not going to be stubborn about this.

We walk over and I open the box and we lay out the parts. I watch her mind work as she reads the directions and studies the pieces we have. There’s something beautiful about how her mind works. She’s not simple minded, far from it.

Shoulder to shoulder, I’m so very aware of her scent, her heat, her soft hair. I wanted to kiss her earlier. And I know she knew it. She pushed me away really quick.

“So what was with the coat?” she asks and I’m taken aback.

“What are you asking?” I ask, focused on lining up the corners with the one she’s holding to fasten them together in just the right way.

“What were you trying to do?” she seems unsure of what she’s asking and I wonder if she thinks it was some nefarious plot on my part.

I sigh, not wanting to blow her off, but not wanting to mention that it was just a wayward thought. “It was cold out. You’d been shivering before and I wanted to make sure you were warm.”

“Why? She pushes and I wonder what she’s getting at.

“Because I’m not an asshole?” It’s true. I mean, I wouldn’t wish suffering on a stranger, much less someone closer than that. And sure, she was pretty close to a stranger, she’d also managed to get under my skin pretty quickly.

“So you would have done the same for anyone?” She sounds suspicious and I want to sigh. Is she really pulling the woman bullshit where’s this going, what does it mean? How disappointing.

“Yes,” I say, and her features clear a bit.

Her voice is small when she speaks again. “I was worried it was a personal snub.”

And I feel like an asshole again. How is it this woman keeps making me second guess myself? “What do you mean?” I ask, unsure how it could have been taken as a personal thing.

Her blue eyes meet mine before darting back to the pieces we’re fastening together as the greenhouse begins to take shape. I watch her suck hard on her lower lip a moment as if punishing it for saying too much before she releases it and answers.

“Like… payment for…” her face goes red and she looks around really fast before hissing, “sex.”

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing.

I feel her anger shining on me but I just can’t even. She seriously thought I’d pay for sex… with a coat? A jacket? Thanks for the amazing fuck, here’s a jacket. Cover up, you whore! Yeah, right. “Sorry,” I say, bringing the laughter under control. “It’s just… if I wanted to pay for sex, wouldn’t I just give you money?” It’s not like I’m short on cash.

But her face goes red as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to her. “Uh, yeah,” she says, careful not to touch me as I grab the corner section we’ve fitted together. I stand up and set metal and glass fixture upright as she grabs another panel and pushes it into place, her face still scarlet.

I feel bad for laughing at her. “I swear it was just me trying to be nice because I knew you were cold. And you’re still welcome to have it if you’d like,” I say, feeling hopeful that maybe she’ll accept the gift. As it is, she’s wearing the same sweater she had been that day, and it’s cold, and she’s struggling not to shiver.

And she gives me a small, shy smile. “I’d like that, thank you,” she says and I wonder if the whole conversation had been stared in hopes it would come to this end. I don’t care if that had been the intention. I gave the damn thing to her because I wanted her to have it. If I had to explain that it wasn’t payment for sex to get her to take it, so fucking be it.

“Yeah,” I say, straightening up. “Let’s go grab it.” Pulling the keys from my pocket, I begin walking toward my car. With a glance I know she’s following, her face studying the work we’ve done so far.

I face forward once more, reminding myself that even though she’s coming back to my place, I don’t get to fuck her this time. No matter how much I might want to. The past three days, I haven’t been able to bring myself to sleep with anyone else, even though there have been calls, texts, offers…

I can’t seem to get it up for any of them.

No, it seems that somehow a tawny-haired, blue eyed woman is the only one who can make my dick respond. It’s fucking aggravating and I hope it passes soon. Because I have a feeling Cindy Handberg is forever on my no-fuck list.

And it’s a goddamned shame.