#HotAndHandy (Keeney Builds #1)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

“ W hen are you going to show me your tiny house?” Hilary nudged his foot with her own as they sat on her back deck eating nachos. Since the previous week, they had made it to home plate every night. He’d returned to his house the first two nights, and they’d slept separately. The third night, she asked him to stay, and he did.

To his surprise, he was a cuddler, cradling her against his chest or spooning against her back as they fell asleep. In the mornings, he’d awake surprised and delighted to find her still there. And more delighted to discover she was an enthusiastic fan of morning sex.

When she was a boneless heap of satisfaction, he’d kiss her neck, set her alarm, and leave to shower at his place. It was a great way to start the day, and more than one person at KBS commented on his perpetual smile.

“Whenever you want.” He slid his fingers through her hair. That was another thing, he was a toucher. If they were in the same room, he wanted some form of contact with her.

“Cool!” She set down her wineglass and leaped up. “I’m ready for the tour. ”

He stood more slowly, rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh.

“Oh, come on.” She moved toward the stairs. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back against him, burrowing his nose in her neck.

The sound of a car door closing caught their attention, making them jump apart.

“Hey, Iris,” Hilary called, peering over the railing.

Iris looked up, gave a quick wave, and darted into the house.

“That’s weird. She’s barely spoken to me this week.” Hilary held his hand as they walked across the grass. “Is everything okay at work?”

He shrugged. “I think so. I’ve been so damn busy I’ve barely seen her.”

The conversation stopped as they approached his door. The upper half was frosted glass, framed with bright red paint. The bottom of the door was black. He pushed it open and stepped back to allow Hilary to enter. Propped against the doorway, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched her. She gasped and clasped her hands together, then kicked off her flip-flops and stepped onto the polished concrete floor. He had pushed out one end of the garden shed and raised the peaked roof. It was now about eight feet wide by twenty feet long. To his left was a compact bathroom: toilet, shower, and a sink with storage underneath it. To his right was a comfortable built-in couch, upholstered in denim, with bright red throw pillows. Across from it was a bookcase and flat-screen TV. Farther down was a decent-sized kitchen, separated from the main room by a counter with two stools tucked beneath it. To the right of the counter, beside the entrance to the kitchen, a staircase led to the loft bedroom.

Hilary was busy opening the doors to the cupboards beneath the stairs and oohing and aahing. He released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and settled on the couch. Besides Iris and his mom, she was the first to see it, and he hadn’t realized how much her opinion mattered. When she grinned at him and headed up the stairs, he followed her. She kneeled on the bed, examining the books on the shelves surrounding his bed, and turned on and off the lights mounted in the wood.

She fell back against the pillows, stroking the chenille comforter and gazing at the skylights in the peaked roof. “You designed this, didn’t you?”

He nodded, proud of the work that he’d done, and thankful for Iris’s trust and support.

She shifted her gaze to focus on his face. “It’s really lovely. Can you teach others to do this kind of thing?”

“Probably, but I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing with Carl?”

It hadn’t started out that way, but Carl was curious and full of questions about products, methods, and techniques. Vincent was now in the habit of starting each project with an explanation of the whys and the hows. And God bless him, Carl paid attention, took notes, and rarely made the same mistake twice. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Do you like doing it?”

“I do. As much as I like working on a project, seeing him do well makes me feel good.”

“I think you are very good at what you do.” Her eyes crinkled with her smile.

He gazed at the woman on his bed, thinking life was pretty much perfect except for one minor detail. He prowled toward her, ripping his T-shirt off and tossing it to the floor. His hands went to his fly. He wrestled his jeans, underwear, and socks to the floor, then stood naked in front of her. “Why are you still dressed?”

“Just enjoying the show,” she said with a saucy grin.

He stood tall, palming his cock as he watched her eyes watching him. When they fell to half-mast and her tongue darted out to touch her lips, quick as a snake, he reached out and grabbed her ankles, drawing her to him. Before she could blink, her shorts and panties were down, and his nose was rooting in her heat. He couldn’t get enough of her. When she sighed, he settled between her legs, and started lapping up the wetness seeping from her seam. When she groaned, fisting her hands in his hair to hold him to her, he smiled, happy to know there was something else he was good at.

Much later, he stroked a lazy hand over Hilary’s hip and thigh, thinking about Iris’s odd behavior. “What do you know about social security numbers?” Frazzled didn’t begin to describe Iris; she jumped like a scared rabbit whenever he approached her. Worried that either he or Tomas was doing something wrong, he’d asked Ali. The older man had waved off his concerns, assuring him that their clients were happy and there was lots of work lined up for them.

Hilary was sprawled across him, limp as a noodle. She may have said, “Not a damn thing,” or she may have said, “What do you want to know?” Her face was buried in his neck, and her words were muffled, so he continued. He relayed the moment with Iris and Tomas and the duplicate, almost matching numbers. “How do you think that happened?”

Pulling back, she propped herself up on an elbow. “Well, it’s perfectly understandable for someone to make a data entry error and enter someone’s information twice. But for two people to have multiple numbers so similar? That’s a little hinky?”

“Hinky?”

She moved a hand through the air in a so-so gesture. “Questionable. Not an accident.”

He pondered her response, absently running a hand up and down her spine.

“How many people have access to the payroll program?” she asked quietly.

It was a few moments before he responded, “Not many.”