Page 15 of The Arrangement

He gasped. “Oh my God, you haven’t even been here a week and you're already threatening to rat me out to the matriarch? Scandalous! And, I’ll have you know, that snitches get stitches everywhere, even in the South.”

“Does that mean you won’t tell me? Even though I came all this way, got lost in the Atlanta airport for two hours,andam sleeping on the couch?” I asked with an exaggerated sad face as I bumped his shoulder.

He tried to scowl, but his persistent grin was having none of it. “Fuck you. The new mattress will be delivered in two days. You’ll live.” And obviously Marc was finally feeling good enough to joke about it, thank fuck. “But IsupposeI could be nice. Just this once.”

We stopped at the edge of the sidewalk before embarking into the vast swath of black tar that made up the parking lot so I could fully absorb the moment. And I had to admit, finally getting to see Marc really relax and be playful was like fresh air and sunshine after navigating a collapsed building.

“The pink flowers were camellias. They represent a longing for someone dear. While the white were lily of the valley and mean a return of happiness.”

“In short, your great aunt really missed you and is glad to finally have you home.”

He nodded. “Got it in one.”

“And the yellow ones you gave me?”

He huffed a small laugh, but didn’t correct me. “Those are buttercups. They mean radiant with charm.” He kept looking at me with thoseeyes. Their hazel rings seemed to absorb the sunlight, and I thought back to what his great aunt had said when he’d asked about the flowers:she said he was handsome and had good manners.

Damn my fair skin. I could literally feel my face heating as he continued to look at me. “Would you agree with that assessment?” I asked, because clearly I had no sense of self-preservation where Marc was concerned,especiallywhen he looked at me with those fuckingeyes.

Finally, he gave me a crooked smile. “Yeah, I do.” Then he stepped off the sidewalk, leaving me to gape after him. How the hell could I keep my wits about me in the middle of a firefight with literal explosions, but all Marc had to do was smile and look at me for my brain to forget how to function properly? Not cool, brain. Not cool.

The drive back to the shop was uneventful. While Marc was changing back into work-appropriate clothes, I snagged a book onThe Planting & Care of Perennials in Sub-Tropical Climatesand carefully pressed my buttercups between the pages before squirreling the book away beside my duffel. I’d need to look up how to preserve pressed flowers later, because no way was I going to let them wither into nothing.

No sooner was it secure than Marc reemerged from the bedroom looking like a goddamn snack. I promptly metaphorically smacked my brain upside the head. He was dressed forwork, sweaty, dirty work that would show off his muscles and make him grunt with effort–record scratch. There was nothing metaphorical about my subsequent facepalm before following him down to the shop.

For fuck’s sake, Gallagher, get it together.

We fell into the same pattern as the day before, with me working on clearing out the receiving bay, which was a hot fucking mess of boxes, bins, and what-have-you, while Marc tackled the front of the shop. Though I did keep an ear out for him… and maybe made sure the sledgehammer was on my side of the shop this time. It had really freaked me out yesterdaywhen I’d heard the ruckus and found him rage-demolishing the fucking wall.

I was in the middle of untangling some gnarly wire-mesh-looking-shit from broken plastic pots and trying to figure out if it was still any good when Marc popped up like a goddamn meerkat out of fucking nowhere. Startled, I took a step back, but instead of solid ground my heel came down on slick cardboard. Balance compromised, I tilted back, dragging the mesh, broken plastic, and pretty much everything else in the pile I’d been deconstructing with me. “Shit.”

“I’ve got you.” On cue, a warm arm wrapped around my middle, steadying me and halting my backward trajectory. “Sorry about that. I should know better than to sneak up on guys like us.” He squeezed my bicep with his free hand, but I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe to respond.

God, he was handsome. Even with a smudge of dust on his cheek and his brown hair in wild disarray, he looked kissable as fuck. And why did his arm around me have to feel soright? I didn’t know if he was straight, bi, curious, or what, but I was positive the desire to kiss him was going to kill me before the summer was over.

“JD.”

“Huh?” I grunted, unable to make words or even string two coherent thoughts together with his body pressed against mine.

“I think you can let go of the wire now.” His lips twitched as if he were fighting back a grin, and I finally blinked. A quick glance revealed that I had a death grip on the wire and had practically relocated the entire pile a good three feet with my lovely and not at all embarrassing interpretation of Curly.

I released the wire and flexed my hands to get the blood flowing again. “Thanks for that. I swear I’m not normally this jumpy. Or clumsy,” I tacked on, because I was really acing this whole being smooth around him thing.

He let his grin free and squeezed my side before removing his arm. Let’s just say I’m not proud of how tempted I was to feign slipping again to bring it back. “I know. Besides, I'm pretty sure it’s impossible for anyone built like you to be clumsy.” He probably meant it as a tease, but I couldfeelhis eyes sliding down my body. So, of course, my dick decided that now was anexcellenttime to get involved.

Stand down, you goddamn horn dog. You act as if I don’t give you any attention at all.Which, now that I thought about it, I hadn’t since the interrupted blowjob from the brunette tag-chaser. And I hadn’t been able to finish then either, not with all the pervy thoughts about Marc running rampant in my head. I quickly shut down that line of thinking. It wasn’t helping my current predicamentat all, especially while he stood close enough for me to smell the sharp salt of his deodorant and the intoxicating musk of exertion. I masked a whimper of need by clearing my throat.

Jesus Fucking Christ, what iswrongwith me?

“You, uh, needed help with something?” I asked, hoping getting back to work might get my brain and hopefully my dick back on track.

He visibly gave himself a shake, and his grin broadened into a smile that made my pulse spike. At this rate, I was going to need heart medication. Would they let me back into the army if I were on heart medication? Which reminded me, I had a lovely, not-so-passive aggressive email from my CO reminding me I didn’t have all year to decide whether to re-up and sooner was always better. A little too late, I realized Marc had been talking while my brain had been busy hopping down a bunny trail.

“Yeah, so if you could give me a hand moving the counter, that’d be great.”

“Are you sure it’s not bolted to the ground?” He gave me a funny look, and I mentally facepalmed. He’d probably alreadyaddressed that when I’d been too busy getting lost in my own thoughts. “Right, duh,” I said in a half-assed attempt to cover and gestured for him to lead the way.

Letting me get away with it, he walked a few paces toward the front before pausing and turning to face me again. This time when he ran his gaze over me, he started at my feet and dragged it up the full length of my body with agonizing slowness while I willed my rebellious dick to behave.