Killing Me Softly

Chapter 9

Daydreaming wasn't easy to stop.

Something about sunny days and evening breezes made it impossible.

That day was particularly bright and warm. Washing dishes and looking out the window above the sink, she tried to think of nothing but the shapes of the few clouds in the sky.

Anything but the shirtless young man fixing up the crooked slats on her front porch.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She gasped at the abrupt sound of his whiskey voice. She hadn't heard him enter the house, not until he was already standing under the archway of the kitchen.

Keeping her eyes on the window above the sink, she braced the sink and exhaled a small laugh, "I was just thinking about how incredibly talented you are at sneaking around."

"It's what they teach at fireman's school. How to sneak up on fire before you get burned." He nodded sincerely.

With wide eyes she looked back at him.

Was that a joke?

Peter let a small smile break before reaching for the shirt hanging from the waistband of his jeans.

It took her a millisecond longer than she'd admit before she caught his jest. It wasn't that she was slow, Peter's nonchalance was just so new to her.

A groan escaped her as she shook her head, "That was awful. Minus ten."

When he raised his arms to stretch the shirt over his head, she couldn't help but look at the way his muscles tightened and stretched.

Reluctantly, her eyes raked over the corded planes of his chest and arms. It was only a moment before the shirt hole went over his head and he shook his hair free. She'd never imagined making an enemy of a shirt until the fabric draped over his taut abdomen before she could fully take in every etch of ink on his skin.

Before he could catch her eyes lingering on his form, she turned back to the glass that had nearly slipped from her hands.

You wouldn't even know what to do.

With his shirt finally on, he pushed back the dark locks from his forehead. He did that often enough for her to be able to picture it in detail with her eyes closed. Pretty as his gray eyes were when unobstructed, something about him looking disheveled lent a youthfulness to his otherwise calm and stoic demeanor.

It was a wonder to be studied how he managed to look even more handsome as time went on.

Her teeth scraped her bottom lip as she returned to soap and rinse the same glass for the third time.

"I noticed it could use a fresh coat of stain and you know I think I could manage some two by fours and crates for-"

She felt him nudge her shoulder with his.

"Zara? Hey," Peter shut off the tap leaning over to put himself between Zara and the sink. She had no option but to step back and face him. The other option was to linger in his proximity but rather quickly she set the glass down and turned to listen to him.

"I was saying I'll need to come back to re-stain the porch. First I'll have to sand it down, then apply a primer and then stain it. To be safe I'll need to do it over a couple of weeks just so you're not breathing chemicals everyday. Then might as well get that garden patch started as part of the homeowners loan agreement..."

His brows pulled together as he looked to contemplate the amount of fixing up her new home needed.

He was being nice to her. Like he was with everyone else he'd come across. That's why everyone cherished him.