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Lola Barringer is on her hands and knees when I step foot on her property.
Hammers and Veils is a series of short and flirty stories sure to make you melt!
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It’s a white-picket fence kind of day on Maple Lane with all the typical clichés you find in every uppity-up subdivision in America. Including some khakis-wearing dad-type watering his yard across the street who raises a brow at me when I pull my twenty-year-old Chevy pickup to a stop in front of my next job.
On the passenger seat is a clipboard with the project details, and I give a harsh grunt when I scan the contact info.
Lola Barrington. Even the name sounds pretentious. Just like this damn neighborhood.
I wasn’t welcome in these parts as a teenager, even now I’m aware of wary glances directed at me, or rather Big Bertha.
My partners at Nailed It Construction have been bugging me for years to trade my baby in for a newer model, but she’s the first thing that was ever truly mine. Sure, she’s got more rust on her back end than paint, but I’ve got no plans of giving her up. Even if it means spending more cash keeping her running than buying a new truck would.
I open the door and grab what I need from the back, which isn’t much since I’m just here to appraise the job. Usually I’m more of the hands-on-guy of the business, but since Eli is off on his honeymoon in Tahiti, I’m going to have to pull a fake smile out of my ass and act like I care if the woman chooses Calacatta or Emperador marble countertops.
“It pays the bills,” I mutter, feeling more comfortable with a hammer in my hand than a damn notepad. “Shit.” I jump back when something hisses at my feet. An orange and white ball of fur races through my legs, darting into one of the nearest bushes.
“No, no, no.” Another blur of color pushes past me, but this one smells a hell of a lot better, like peaches and cream. I’m entranced as the curvy little blonde gets down on her hands in knees searching frantically in the bushes. “Missy, come here, now.”
The cat hisses from somewhere deep in the foliage, even though I know helping would be the gentlemanly thing to do, my cock has grown uncomfortably hard at the sight in front of me.
The woman is crouched over, her perfect ass on full display. The way the faded denim hugs her hips and rides low enough that I catch a small glimpse of pink lace, I know I’m in trouble. One thing I have a weakness for is a nice ass.
Not that I’ve had much action lately. The way the company has taken off recently hasn’t left me with a lot of spare time on my hands. And in all honesty, I’ve started to get tired of the whole meaningless sex thing.
That said, I wouldn’t mind nailing down the sweet little thing who continues to wiggle her ass at me.
“Damn it, Missy, come here.”
“Need some help?” I ask. “I’m here from Nailed It, but maybe you need more than an estimate on the place?”
“Stupid cat got out of the house again.” She starts to stand, brushing off her jeans. I still haven’t seen her face, but I have a feeling I’m going to like it. “This is the third time since—” Her mouth gapes open when she meets my gaze, honey brown eyes widening, and I swear for a second she forgets to breathe.
Not that I’m much better. I’m just as affected by her. The woman is breath-taking. Dark blonde hair, almost the same color as her eyes frame a pixie-like face. With the morning sunlight shining down on her, I can see the soft smear of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She’s wearing hardly any makeup, just a touch of lip gloss on those plump lips that are still parted in a delicious little O.
Lips that I instantly want to devour.
There’s something really familiar about her. And the way she’s looking at me, I have no doubt she feels it too.
“Your pussy seems to need a little TLC,” I say with a smirk, breaking the tension.
“What?” Her expression alters between shock and mortification then anger. “How-how dare you.”
“Relax, sweetheart,” I say, crouching down, setting my clipboard aside. “I was talking about your tabby cat.”
“You…you’re…” she stammers over her words as I reach far back into the shrubbery until I feel soft fur. “What are you doing here?”
“Praying your cat doesn’t claw my arm off,” I mutter as I get a good grip on the still hissing creature. Thankfully, its hiss is worse than its bite. I retrieve the cat and stand, surprised when it starts to purr in my arms. “See, she needed to be stroked gently – a little tender loving care. Seems like your pussy likes me.”
“Are you always such a… an ass?”
“An ass who just saved your—”
She holds up her hand. “If you say that word one more time, I’m going to—”