Chapter Two
Distracted by what was taking place on her street, Kat stubbed her toe on an uneven lip of pavement. Holy hell and hotness, Batman! A man parade was happening at the old colonial on the corner.
The property was a hive of activity and looked completely different than it had one week ago. Construction workers freckled the home like ants on a dropped popsicle. Kat wasn’t typically the drooling type, but she suddenly had the urge to check if her tongue was still in her mouth.
The front siding had been removed and a young, burly, blond man was installing blue and silver insulation. He wore reflective sunglasses and his hair was long, bluntly cut to the collar of his shirt. Her eyes focused on the damp ends of his hair, darkened with perspiration, finding it oddly intriguing.
Loose fitting carpenter jeans and work boots covered a good deal of tanned flesh. Muscled arms bunched as he dragged the back of his hand over his brow, wiping away beads of sweat. She especially enjoyed the way his muscles tugged the cotton of his shirt as he worked the insulation into place.
Her gaze briefly passed over an older, heavy-set man with a plumber’s crack. There was too much goodness on display elsewhere to focus on him.
Her gaze traveled past the dormer window to the steep peak of the roof. The black man she had seen a few days before was tearing shingles off the roof. Her throat went dry as he stood and oh my, once the shirt came off, he revealed a perfectly sculpted chest.
His skin was the color of powdered cocoa, smooth like a creamy latte, so different from her lily-white complexion. A yellow bandana covered his head, tied at the back of his skull. The worn fabric was damp at the edges, turning the material dark. Her hand crept to the back of her neck as she tried to imagine what such glistening heat felt like, smelled like.
Her heart raced and she frowned. She didn’t usually react this way to men, but her senses were overwhelmed at the magnitude of male bodies on display.
Shaking away her thoughts, she shifted Mia’s bag in her arm and guided her daughter around a pile of debris littering the curb. A sense of being rushed filled her belly as her flustered mind focused on reaching home, but her gaze kept pulling back to the man on the roof.
Snug jeans, fit at the waist, hugged his ass. Curious flutters filled her chest when his toned arms, corded with muscle, swung another shingle to the ground. His abdomen was tight and rigid as an old fashioned washboard, with too many dips and hard angles to count. There wasn’t a flaw on him. People shouldn’t look that good, at least not in real life.
As her gaze moved over his worn leather tool belt, slung loosely at his hips, she cursed herself for looking and allowing her hormones to run amuck. She should look away, but he had sexy indents where his waist cut in at his hips.
Breathless, she licked her dry lips. Her eyes zoomed in on the slight bulge forming shadows at the fly of his jeans. Phew, maybe I needed a date more than I realize.
“What are they doing, Momma?” Her daughter’s voice was like a bucket of ice water, squelching all her dirty thoughts and bringing her back to reality.
Kat cleared her throat. “They’re fixing the house up for when our new neighbors come to live here.”
“Maybe they’ll build a doghouse. I think my new friends have a dog.”
“Maybe,” she said, distracted as the sexy black man tossed a stack of old shingles into a debris pile by a dumpster.
A radio played Motown over the scraping and hammering. He disappeared over the other side of the peaked roof and she sighed. Skin hot under her clothing, she had the urge to fan herself. She didn’t usually get like this around people. She didn’t usually get like this ever.
Her heartbeat punched through random parts of her body as her blood seemed to thicken. She was very aware of her limbs and the weight of her clothing under the warm sun.
“Are they going to paint the house, Momma?”
“Probably,” Kat absentmindedly answered, waiting for the shirtless man to reappear. When he didn’t return a slight wave of disappointment washed over her.
“I think they’re going to paint it pink,” Mia declared.
Kat loved the way her daughter’s three-year-old mind didn’t wonder about the unknown, but instead, made absolute predictions about what would happen. She could imagine what Mia was envisioning—a bright, frosty, pink house that resembled a whimsical cake more than a home. She wished her imagination were that fanciful.
“Hi.”
Kat turned and sucked in her breath too fast. She choked as she realized the deep voice belonged to the muscular, shirtless man from the roof. Covering her mouth, she gasped and coughed, offering a futile wave as her mortification grew.
Her fingers fluttering much like the way her daughter waved as her eyes burned and watered. When his dark eyes creased with concern she wanted to crawl in the dumpster to and die. She sucked in a deep breath and forced her lungs to breathe normally.
“Hi,” Mia said. “Are you fixing up the house for my friend?”
Kat blotted her eyes and cleared her throat.
The man smiled, his straight, pearl white teeth radiant against his perfect complexion. Full lips pulled into a breathtaking grin as a dimple formed in his left dark cheek.
His eyes were brown—almost black—fringed with long, thick lashes. They were the eyes of a pirate, keen and seductive as if brushed in soot and those sharp, observant eyes didn’t seem to miss a thing. Kat fidgeted under the weight of his gaze, knowing he was probably noticing all her imperfect parts.
She cleared her throat again, drawing his wandering gaze back to her face. “Hello.”
He offered a quick nod, looked down at Mia, and replied, “I’m fixing up the house for the man who bought it, but I’m afraid he doesn’t have any children.”
“Oh.” Mia pouted. “Does he have a dog?”
The man dropped to his haunches, so he was at Mia’s eye level. “Well, he doesn’t have a dog yet, but he may get one once he moves in. Do you like dogs?”
“Yes, but Momma said we can’t have one cause it’s Dr. Stevens’ house and Mrs. Bradshaw’s ‘lergic.”
She should probably readdress the talking to strangers topic. Mia, no matter how much she reminded her to be cautious, would tell anyone anything. Kat could only be grateful Mia didn’t know their bank account pin or social security numbers.
The man grinned up at her and back at Mia. “Well, if you could have a dog, what type of dog would you want?”
Mia took the question very seriously. Head tilted and lips twisted, her small finger thoughtfully tapped her chin. To a three-year-old, decisions like what breed of dog the neighbors should own was as paramount as nuclear warfare to adults. There was much to consider.
“He should be smaller than me and have to have floppy ears and a long tail. He’d have to like to run, ‘cause running’s fun. And he has to know not to poo in the house.”
The man laughed, gravelly and deep. It seemed to touch places inside of Kat that were normally dormant and unaffected. She looked away, afraid her reaction might somehow be noticeable.
“Well, those sound like good specifications.”
He stood and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Tyson Adams.”
“Kat D’Angelo,” she responded, shaking his hand. His fingers were rough and calloused, but warm and twice the size of hers. “This is my daughter, Mia.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mia,” he said looking back down at her daughter, before returning his gaze to her. “You guys live on this street?”
“Yes, that’s our cottage.” Mia said before Kat could stop her.
That’s all she needed, some strange construction worker—twice her size and ripped with muscles—knowing her address and that they lived alone.
Tyson glanced at the cottage then back to Kat. “Pretty.”
He was complimenting their home, but his gaze lingered on her face, the unwanted scrutiny making it difficult not to fidget. She shuffled her feet and glanced away. “Well it’s home. We like it. It has all the amenities we need. Electric, running water, an alarm system.”
What the hell was wrong with her? An alarm system? Good God! For once in her life, she’d like to be able to meet someone and not start babbling like the village idiot.
Tyson laughed under his breath as if sensing her embarrassment at her awkward social skills. He squatted back down to Mia and said, “Well, it was nice meeting you, Mia. I’ll see what I can do about that dog.”
Mia smiled, completely charmed. “You should probably build them a doghouse. Dogs like people houses, but they also like to have their own house too.”
“Duly noted,” he said and stood again.
“Kat, it was nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you too.”
She took Mia’s hand, completely focused on making her escape.
“I’ll see you around,” he said as they turned.
“Okay. Come on, Mia, we have stuff to do.”
As Mia ran to the front door Kat looked back over her shoulder. Tyson still stood at the curb, his gaze connecting with hers and sending a shiver down her spine. She quickly pulled out her keys and rushed inside where she bolted the door.
That afternoon when she got home from work, Kat parked her car in their driveway and walked toward Mrs. Bradshaw’s to pick up Mia. The corner house was, again, a beehive of activity. The radio played over the sound of a nail gun attaching shingles to the roof and the hum of an air compressor. Some kind of machine made a racket in the backyard.
Her eyes immediately searched for Tyson. The burly blond was there, but he didn’t seem as interesting as he had the day before. The irrational longing to see Tyson again was an aggravated inconvenience as it altered her typically content state of mind.
The door—now off the hinges—leaned against a tree in the front yard and wore a fresh coat of glossy, black paint. Blue insulation covered the rest of the exterior. The older man was working on the shutters on the front lawn, still indecently exposed.
Regret swamped her when she saw no sign of Tyson. But more than regret, was the deep disappointment in her foolish desire. How pathetic that her mood shifted in the presence of a stranger?
After she picked up Mia and wished Mrs. Bradshaw a happy weekend, they started back toward the cottage. As they rounded the corner, she heard Mia’s intake of breath.
“Hi, Tyson!” Mia yelled.
Tyson unfolded his posture from over a long table made of plywood and two sawhorses as he turned and beamed at Mia. Wedging a pencil into his yellow bandana, above his ear, and started toward them.
“Hi, Mia. Kat. How are you today?”
“Good. It’s Friday!” Mia happily informed him.
“Is it?” Tyson replied, again dropping down to Mia’s eye level. “And what’s so special about Friday, may I ask?”
“It’s pizza night and Momma doesn’t have work tomorrow!”
“Oh, well, that would make it special.”
“Are you drawing pictures?”
Tyson’s dark brow creased at the sudden change of topic then his gaze followed Mia’s line of vision toward his worktable. “Ah, that. No, I’m not drawing. I’m looking at blueprints. They’re kind of like drawings, though. They show me what we have to do to the house. Want to see?”
“Yeah!” Mia cheered as she bounced.
“Okay, come on.”
As he gently took Mia’s hand, possessiveness gripped Kat. His assumed familiarity with Mia was a bit too forward. He was a stranger working on their neighbor’s house who had no right to hold her daughter’s hand. Kat quickly followed them across the yard intending to force some space between this man and her child, but once they were in front of the worktable, he released Mia and Kat slightly relaxed.
He showed Mia a sketch of the entire property. “You see I’m trying to find the best place for that doghouse we talked about.”
Mia frowned trying to make sense of the geometric images in front of her. “Maybe there?” She pointed to a room labeled Master Bath.
“Ah, well, that’s the bathroom. See, this here’s the backyard. This is the fence and these are the trees.”
His long, tapered, work-roughened finger traced the images. A white scar nicked the dark flesh above his middle knuckle. His nails were cut to the quick and his nail beds were darker than hers.
“Oh,” Mia said. “Maybe under this tree?”
“That looks like a good place.” Tyson grinned and winked at Kat, flustering her all the more.
“I can draw it for you. I’m a good colorer. Momma says I’m an artist.”
“Is that so?” Tyson plucked his pencil from his bandana. “Well, here you go. Draw me a little doghouse right under that tree—”
“Uh—” Kat interrupted placing a staying hand on Mia’s shoulder as her daughter reached out and fisted Tyson’s pencil in her three-year-old grip. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, babe. Maybe you could draw Mr. Adams a picture of a doghouse on your own paper and give it to him. Blueprints are very expensive and I’m sure his boss would be upset if he let someone color on them.”
Tyson slowly rocked back, amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he studied her. The side of his mouth curved and a hint of his dimple showed. “I’m sure my boss wouldn’t mind—”
“Tyson—”
“Kat,” he countered. “It’s fine. Really. The blueprints belong to Adams Construction. I’m Tyson Adams. They’re mine.”
When she only shook her head he continued to explain, “I’m the boss.”
Kat opened her mouth and her cheeks heated. Embarrassment lodged an uncomfortable lump in the pit of her belly. Saws buzzed around them and the scent of cut wood laced the spring air. He waited for her to say something. Her mouth worked, but no words came out. “But still, you don’t want to let a three-year-old doodle on your blueprints.”
“Not just a three-year-old—an artist. Go ahead, Mia, give it your best shot.”
He turned to observe Mia and Kat frowned at the back of his head, speechless. He arrogantly assumed his permission was enough. Who did he think he was?
Kat wasn’t used to people maneuvering her. Well, except for her mother of course. Vivian was a master of manipulation. But this guy was nobody to her and Mia was her child who should listen to her mother, not strangers. If she told her not to draw on the blueprints she should’ve listened.
“Very nice, Mia!” He seemed genuinely pleased with her work. His large hand engulfed her daughter’s shoulder, praising, and Kat’s stomach tightened another degree with unease as she scowled at him. Inwardly, she fought the sense of being removed. She wanted to bulldoze up to him and smack his hand away.
“This is the door and this is a bowl for his food.” Mia beamed.
Kat looked over her daughter’s shoulder at what could only be described as a three-year-old’s masterpiece. It was a circle with four parallel lines going through it and one patch of scribbles.
“And what color would you paint this doghouse?” Tyson asked.
“Pink!” It was only her daughter’s enthusiasm at his calm banter that had Kat restraining herself.
“Hmm…” He dramatically considered her suggestion, tapping his finger on his chin. “But what if it’s a boy dog?”
“Boys like pink, but I guess you could paint it yellow.”
“I like yellow.”
“I’m a good painter. I could help you paint it.”
“That would be great.”
A Lexus SUV pulled into Kat’s driveway. Mia turned and squealed, a wide grin breaking across her rosy cheeks. “Kiki!”
Kiki was the nickname Mia had assigned Jade when she first started to talk. There was no rhyme or reason behind the name, and eventually it just stuck.
The driver’s door opened and Jade stepped onto the pavement. When she spotted them, she waved, and headed in their direction. Kat breathed in a sigh of relief. Jade had always bolstered her confidence. She was the perfect interruption to distract Mia so they could make their escape.
A bite of inadequacy pinched as Jade approached in her fitted jeans, tight tank top, and cute mini-cardigan. Kat glanced at Tyson and grimaced when he was studying Jade.
An uncomfortable gumminess filled her chest, cold and hot all at the same time. Men always watched Jade. It normally didn’t bother Kat. But for some reason, when Tyson looked at her, it did.
“Kiki!” Mia screeched again. Jade held out her arms as Mia ran toward her, launching herself into her arms at the last moment.
“A friend of yours?”
She briefly glanced at Tyson. “Yes.” Jade approached holding Mia and Kat did a quick introduction. “Tyson Adams, this is my good friend, Jade Shultz.”
“A pleasure,” Tyson said as he shook her hand.
“Likewise,” Jade replied. Her eyes moved from his large booted feet to the yellow bandana covering his head, openly appraising him.
“Tyson’s running the construction here for the new owners of the house,” Kat informed her friend.
“Oh, cool. Did you meet them yet?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
Jade returned her attention to Tyson. “So what are the new people like? I assume you’ve met them? I can’t have Mia and Kat living down the street from a serial killer.”
“I assure you the new owner is not a serial killer,” he laughed.
“So if you know they aren’t murderers, what else do you know about them?” Jade had zero social graces, but her cuteness seemed to give her license to be blunt whenever she wanted.
“He’s an independent businessman. Single, no kids, and apparently a future dog owner.”
“Ah, single. There you go, Kat.” Jade pointedly hinted, nudging her in the arm with no subtlety whatsoever.
Kat nervously laughed.
Tyson cleared his throat. “What about the doctor?”
Kat frowned when Jade asked, “What doctor?”
“Uh, the doctor who owns the house?” he replied, looking uncomfortable, his dark eyes moving from Kat to Jade and back to Kat again.
“Doctor Stevens?” Jade blurted and snorted in a fit of laughter. “My God, Kat! If you have something going on with that old man, you definitely need to get out more!”
Heat spread all the way from Kat’s collar to her ears. “Dr. Stevens is my elderly boss. He rents the property to us, but he doesn’t live there.” To be completely clear she added, “He’s my landlord.”
“Ah.” Tyson smirked, the uncertainty fading from his face.
“Yeah, so perhaps this new neighbor of yours will be the man you’ve been waiting for,” Jade continued.
Kat shot her a look that told her to shut up when Mia added, “He’s gonna be my friend.”
“I have not been waiting for a man,” Kat growled under her breath, wishing the subject of her non-existent sex life would drop. This was not a conversation Tyson, nor Mia, needed to witness.
Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Tyson said, “Well, ladies, I have to get back to work. Thanks for drawing me a doghouse, Mia. I’ll see you all later.”
As Tyson turned to walk away Jade whispered, “Well, at least you have a nice view for the next few weeks.”