“Well, I was going to work in my garden. But since I can’t…” I smile.
“Right.” He laughs a little nervously. “Well, sure. I still need to water all of the flowers here, and add some new soil. I can go grab the bags if you keep watering.”
“That I can do.” My mom will see me working with James, and I have no doubt she’ll tell my dad. Being able to look at someone this hot and piss off my parents at the same time? This is a priceless opportunity.
He hands me the hose, and I aim it at the flowers. I definitely, definitely watch him walk away and back toward the utility building. I wasn’t focused on his ass when I was about to yell at him, but now that I look…yeah. I didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to a guy’s ass. I guess this proves that theory wrong.
When James comes back out of the building, he has two bags of soil on his shoulder. The shirt they gave him doesn’t fit him well, and it keeps riding up as he walks, affording me some priceless views of his tight abs. I’m about to call up that company and say thank you. The skin I see is tan and toned, and suddenly I realize that he’s looking at me looking at him, and I’m watering the ground and not the flowers.
I look away, a flush of embarrassment rolling over my whole body.
He sets down the bags by the flowerbed I’m watering and starts to add new soil around the existing and newly planted flowers. “So, Vera.” I think I hear a smile in his voice, but maybe he talks to everyone that way. “What kind of jobs are you applying to?”
“Architecture.”
“Following in your dad’s footsteps?” It’s so unexpected that I look over at him. He says, “I know who your father is.”
“Yeah…” I clear my throat. “His line of work isn’t exactly what I’m interested in.” I move on to the next flowerbed.
“What are you interested in?”
Part of me doesn’t want to tell him, afraid that he’ll judge me just as harshly as my friends and family. But I dismiss my hesitation—he’s just trying to make conversation. “Ultimately I’d like my work to be humanitarian. Hopefully someday overseas. I probably won’t be able to do that right away, but I’d like to be part of a firm that’s at least interested in that.” I glance over at him, trying to read his reaction.
He gives me a look and an encouraging nod. “That’s a beautiful goal to have. I’m sorry you’re not having good luck.”
“How did you know that?”
He packs down some dirt. “If you were having good luck, you probably wouldn’t be home in the middle of the day or need to blow off steam.”
“Right,” I laugh. “Good point.”
“But,” he says, “You may have a promising career in over-watering flowers.”
I look down, and see there’s a puddle of water around the base of the camellia I’m watering. I quickly point the hose in a different direction. “I swear, I’m not usually bad at this.”
“Don’t worry,” James says. “I was in your garden—I’ve seen what you can do.”
I smile at him. “Good. But next time you want to go in my garden you have to ask permission.”
“I will. I think I’d like to explore it further.” He winks at me. I didn’t realize winks could be so sexy. “I promise to be careful and not deflower any of your plants.”
My mouth goes dry as I realize: he’s flirting with me. Oh. My. God. I’ve never been good at flirting, but his words have my imagination spinning and the reply is easy. “Sometimes a little deflowering is healthy.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
I feel my body heat up, and I have to move away from him. I finish watering the circle of flower beds, and then grab the second bag of soil. I join James on the ground and dive into filling the beds. It’s hot, and soon I’m sweating, my arms covered in dirt. James is sweating too, and I’m desperately trying not to imagine him without his shirt on, sweating and glorious. The work is good, and the silence comfortable. I keep sneaking glances at him out of the corner my eye because I can’t help it. I’m pretty sure he knows it too.
He pauses to get more soil from his bag and adds, “I wouldn’t have thought you were the kind of girl to get dirty.” The way his fingers form the soil around the plants has me imagining his fingers doing other things. To me.
“I—” I look over at him, and he’s closer than I realized. So close that I can see his eyes are a rich coffee brown and there are crinkles around them as he smiles. His eyes move down to my mouth, and I realize I’m thinking about him kissing me. And what I imagine is being kissed like I’ve never been kissed before, right here on the ground, his arms pulling me tightly against his hard body, and now I’m staring at him again. “I like getting dirty,” I murmur. “Dirty is good.”