Rescue Me: A Valentine's Day Story - Smashwords by Serena Bell Page B

something involving manual labor because no guy she knew looked like that unless he was lifting things all day.
    “I could try,” she said.
    “You could stay sitting and slide along the edge.”
    “I could if I were wearing thick jeans.”
    This drew his eyes to her legs, and she warmed as he scanned upward from there. Thoughtfully, but not lasciviously or critically. It seemed safest to cross her ankles, so she did, but this made her aware again of her own body, of a slight slick of wetness, and—
    As if he could see her thoughts, his expression changed slightly. Narrowed.
    “That seems like a dumb thing to wear to sit on that ledge.”
    “I liked you better when you didn’t talk.”
    Was that a hint of a smile, before he crossed his arms and turned to walk away?
    “No!” she cried. “Don’t go!”
    He stopped, turned back. She was practically a hundred percent certain he’d be smiling if he let himself, and for some reason, that not-quite-smile warmed her from the center out. It didn’t do much for the goosebumps or the shivering, though.
    “You don’t happen to have a key on you, do you?” he asked. “I could come in through your apartment and help you back in.”
    She shook her head.
    “Anyone else have a key?”
    Peyton , she thought. But there was no way in hell she was calling Peyton. She had to keep some last shred of her dignity intact. “Joe has one.” That was their landlord.
    “I’ll call him.” He lifted his phone, and she had a strong flash of hope as he dialed and put it to his ear, but it faded again when he began leaving a message.
    The other thing about calling Peyton was that if Peyton came, this guy would almost certainly leave. And she didn’t want him to leave. She liked him. She liked his almost-smile and the fact that—now that he was actually conversing with her—he was dry and funny. She liked that he was helping her problem-solve, that he’d called Joe for her, and that he didn’t appear to be inclined to give up too easily, but was now pacing around the corners of the house and back again—hunting, she had to assume, for solutions.
    She shivered.
    “You must be freezing.”
    “I’ve been warmer.”
    “Hang on,” he said, and disappeared.
    It took him an interminable amount of time to return, but when he did, he had a big fleece blanket with him. “I’m going to throw this to you.”
    “Thank you,” she said, but only because it felt premature to say, I love you , which is what she’d thought when he’d reappeared with the blanket.
    He stood back and hurled the blanket at her. His first toss fell short, but the next time it landed in her lap. Grateful, she wrapped herself up.
    “Warm up a little, and then—can you stand, do you think?”
    “Honestly? I’m not even sure how I’d do that.” At least with the blanket, there was less chance she’d flash her bare crotch at him.
    “I have an idea. I’m pretty sure Joe’s got a ladder in the basement.”
    “Ohhh,” she said longingly. “A ladder. That would be glorious.”
    “Doesn’t take much to make you happy, does it?” he asked, and for sure that was the leading edge of a smile.
    It actually doesn’t, she thought. And was suddenly mad. Pissed. She wasn’t high maintenance. She didn’t want much. Just a boyfriend who wasn’t an asshole. Who liked her for who she was and wasn’t always trying to talk her into being more extroverted, then criticizing her for talking too much at parties. Who showed up when he said he would, had sex with her more than once a week, and gave a crap whether she had an orgasm or not.
    “Hang on,” he said, and once again, he disappeared. He was gone longer this time, but having seen him reappear once, she had faith he’d do it again. This time, when he came back into view, he had a ladder under his arm, which he extended and propped against the house.
    “I’m coming up. Once I’m up there, I can help you back inside.”
    “I’d rather go down the