Portia
Bledsoe is a recent resident of the Sunshine State. She inherited a
house and some money from a great-uncle she barely knows, though she
has come to find out that he was very fond of her, despite family
distance. She also inherited a wonderful neighbor, Carl, who looks
after her with fatherly care. Portia is in the process of fixing up
her home and Carl has a suggestion for a contractor to handle the
job.
"This
contractor have a name?"
"Sherwood
Cirocco."
"Wow,
that's a mouthful!" I muttered it to myself once or twice,
getting the feel for the name. "How did he get saddled with a
name like that?"
"By
being the only grandson," another voice said as the back screen
door swung open. "I got a name from every branch of the family.
You should see my birth certificate."
I
looked up into the smiling face of my Home Improvement buddy, Wood.
"So, this is your contractor, huh?" I allowed myself to
giggle. "Good to see you again, Mr. Sherwood Cirocco. When you
gave me that list of contractors, did you plan to just give me your
number?"
"Of
course." He trotted down the steps, dropping into the chair next
to me. "Question is, would you have called?"
"Oh,
yeah," I replied, failing to curtail my enthusiastic tone.
Sherwood
grinned, winking at me. "Cool." He glanced over at his
uncle. "Can I help with anything?"
"Yes,
entertain my guest. I need to get the water bottle." Carl
trotted up the steps, letting the screen door drop behind him.
"Subtle,"
Wood said, watching his uncle's retreating back. "Since he's
already got one." He pointed to the clear plastic spray bottle
sitting by the grill.
Another
giggle escaped me. I couldn't seem to stop myself. "Yes, that's
a word with which I always describe Carl. He's a great guy, so
subtle."
"There
are worse things to be called. Boring. Deformed. Addled. The list is
endless."
"You'll
be glad to know that you aren't any of those things." I blushed,
dropping my head to my chest. I wanted to crawl under the picnic
table and quietly hide until he left.
Wood
chuckled. "Thanks. You're pretty well formed. You don't seem to
be boring. Now addled. . . ."
I
laughed loudly, throwing him a harsh look. "I'm not addled. I
just embarrassed the hell out of myself."
"Oh?"
He crossed to the back porch and pulled a couple beers from the red
cooler on the steps. He popped off the tops, handing me one.
"The
not deformed comment. I don't want you to think I'm staring or
anything."
Wood
struck a pose, foot on the step, shoulders back, chin high, like a
Captain Morgan ad. "Look all you want. I'm not offended."
He held the pose a moment longer before taking a manly swig of his
beer. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cold liquid.
I
indulged myself, staring hungrily at him, watching his adam's apple
bob as he swallowed. How is it possible for someone to be sexy
drinking beer? I mean, my God, it's just . . . . a long, lean, tanned
throat with just enough stubble to be sexy as ever loving hell. . . .
Oh, God, I need to get laid!
Wood
spewed his beer, nearly toppling over from his manly pose. He stared
at me, wiping the dribbling beer with the back of his hand. "Excuse
me?"
"Oh,
Jesus! I said that aloud?" I pulled my shirt up, ducking my head
in like an ostrich. I buried my head under my arms, nearly spilling
my beer over my head. "Holy shit," I muttered. "I'm so
sorry."
Wood
couldn't stop laughing. I don't know what was worse, the fact I said
that or the fact he thought it was so amusing.
"It
wasn't that funny," I muttered, swiping at my eyes. I was so
embarrassed, I was crying.
"No,
my turn to be sorry," he chuckled, wiping tears of his own. I
need not add that his were from mirth. "I totally did that on
purpose," he admitted, handing me a napkin from a stack on the
table. "I'm really sorry. Been a long time since a woman looked
at me that way."
"What
way is that, Mr. Cirocco?"
He
flashed his crooked grin. "Like she wanted to eat me—in a
completely non-carnivorous and consenting adult kind of way."
"Dream
on, Mr. Cirocco!"
"So,
you weren't thinking that you wanted to lick me from head to foot?"
He shook his head in disbelief.
"Your
imagination, completely."
"Yes,
I'm sure it was." He winked at me.
©
2016 Dellani Oakes
No comments:
Post a Comment