was something deep in her gut that told her he meant no harm.
“So,” Keats said, breaking the awkward silence, “I have some of Colby’s gardening stuff. I can go ahead and get started if you’re down with that.”
She cleared her throat. “Sounds good, just give me a sec and I’ll get changed so that I can help.”
His gaze slid over her gray thermal shirt and jeans, male appreciation flickering in them before he could hide it. “It’s okay. You don’t have to get dirty again on my account. We saw you working out here earlier. I don’t mind flying solo.”
His little flare of interest surprised her after what she’d witnessed last night. She’d figured he was into guys. It also surprised her how much it pleased her to be on the receiving end of it. Especially considering the man who’d just left was who she couldn’t stop thinking about—or watching. But regardless, she suddenly didn’t want to go back and sit alone in her office. The completely out-of-character urge made a little flutter of adrenaline go through her—a happy one. Maybe the baby steps were working.
“How ’bout this?” she said, feeling a seed of confidence for the first time in a while. “I’ll go make us some iced tea, you get to work, and then you can tell me how you know Colby.”
His lazy smile made her stomach tighten a little. Damn, this one could probably singe the panties off a girl if he turned on the charm full throttle. “I’m not sure that’s a story you want to know. But I won’t turn down the company.”
“Deal.”
She told him she’d be a few minutes and went back into the house to brew some tea. When she came back out, Keats was already on his knees in her front garden, pulling crushed plants from the beds with hands that looked used to hard work. He hadn’t noticed her come back out yet, so she gave herself a moment to admire.
Keats wasn’t brawny like Colby, but she could tell he was strong, the muscles on his arms working as he pulled at the roots of the plants. And where Colby was dark scruff, Keats was smooth and golden. Not baby-faced but definitely a glimmer of youth still lurking there. If not for the wariness in his eyes, the ink, and those battered hands, Georgia’s starved libido probably would’ve labeled Keats as too young and too pretty. But when those few edges were added to the mix, she found herself unable to drag her gaze away.
He glanced up, shading his eyes with his hand. “Everything all right?”
“Huh?”
“You have a funny expression on your face.”
Ha. Yes, the expression was called inappropriately turned on by a complete stranger. She cleared her throat and shook her head. Her lack of sex life was officially making her crazy. “Everything’s fine, just got lost in thought for a sec.”
She walked over and set the glass of tea near him and gave him a pair of gardening gloves, then settled onto the porch steps so he didn’t feel like she was hovering over him.
He wiped his hands on a rag and took a long pull from the glass, his throat working in a rhythm that made her forget not to stare again. When he lowered the glass, he smiled over the rim. “Thanks for this. I haven’t had fresh-brewed stuff in a while. I sometimes bring the bottled kind on jobs, but it’s not the same.”
She turned sideways and leaned against the railing so she could face him fully and let the breeze hit her heated face. “What do you do?”
He put the gloves on to get back to work while he talked. “Lately, construction when I can find it. But I mostly do whatever anyone will pay me to do. Cash is cash, you know?”
She frowned. No, she didn’t know. Her parents had given her a comfortable life when she was growing up. And she’d done well for herself with her writing. She wasn’t wealthy, but money had rarely been a concern. “And you like doing that kind of thing? The construction?”
He shrugged and glanced her way. “I like playing my guitar. I like performing my stuff. But people don’t pay me money for that. Fun stuff doesn’t pay rent.”
She sipped her tea. “You never know. Colby gets paid to play his music. I get paid to write.”
He snorted like the thought was the most ridiculous notion ever.
“You seem too young to be so cynical.”
Those clear green eyes lifted. “I’m not that young, Georgia.”
The implication in the words was obvious, and she had to sip her tea again to hide her reaction. What was it about this guy that got her skin tingly? She felt like some desperate housewife flirting with the too-young gardener. Maybe it was just the residual hum after writing sexy stuff all morning. “How young?”
“Twenty-three.”
Seven years younger. Not an eternity in years, but in life experience, probably a helluva lot. Damn, why was she even doing the math? It wasn’t like she was going to invite him in for a quick midday romp on the couch. She didn’t even have the guts to invite him in for iced tea.
When she didn’t respond, he filled the space. “So what’s the story with you and Colby?”
The shift in subject broke the tension and the eye contact. She rubbed her lips together. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” he said, digging again. “Is he going to come stomp me with those big-ass feet if he catches me flirting with his woman?”
She lifted an eyebrow in playful challenge. “Are you flirting?”
He grinned. “I was thinking about it.”
Oh, this guy was trouble—of the tempting sort. “We’re just neighbors.”
“Uh-huh. He must be a really friendly neighbor to go through this much effort to fix your garden.”
“He is.” She set her glass down. “But you would know that since you’re friends with him, right?”
“No, we’re not really friends.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He sat back on his heels and looked over at her again, the gleam of sweat starting to shine on his face. “He used to be my teacher back in high school.”
“Oh,” she said, the answer catching her off guard and her mind rewinding to what she had witnessed last night. “And you two have kept in touch?”
“No, I hadn’t seen him in six years actually until last night. We kind of stumbled into each other,” he said, sitting down in the grass and reaching for his tea again.
“And you just went home with him?” The words were out before she could stop them.
He paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. “It’s not like that.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Colby took me home for the same reason he’s out getting flowers for you now. Apparently, he likes to help.”
“You
