"Okay, your turn. Get over here."
Amber's eyes are wide in disbelief as they slide up and down the power saw I'm holding in my hand. Her head shakes just slightly and the straw in her mouth falls to the side. She doesn't move a muscle from where she's been perched in the center of the half-built playhouse, sitting with her legs crossed and sipping on lemonade like she's royalty.
She does deserve a break, to be honest. She just built two entire side walls of this thing because once she got the hang of the electric screwdriver, she was unstoppable. But this is the fun part. It's time to cut the windows out and I don't want her to miss the chance at using this saw, not when I know how fucking hot she looks with power tools in her hands. It doesn't help either that she's got short shorts on and a tank top, hair up in a ponytail.
That damn ponytail. Fuck.
She always wore her hair back in a braid before but now, she wears it down most of the time. It was cascading down her back in a pile of loose curls at the construction warehouse earlier when we were picking up supplies and it kept whipping around in the wind while we loaded up the truck. She looked beautiful, as always. Almost made me wish she'd keep it down the rest of the day, even if it was unrealistic to expect that when we were about to go into project mode.
But then, well... I got to watch her pull it all up into that ponytail and I'm not even gonna try and deny the filthy thoughts that skated straight through my head while she held eye contact with me and smiled as she gathered the long tresses away from her face.
My mind was in the gutter, it still is. I think I just live here now. It almost looked innocent on her part but I'm actually starting to believe she's in the gutter with me. You could cut the sexual tension between us with this fucking power saw.
"Tommy," she drawls humorously, gesturing to the playhouse walls around her. "I just built this. I thought you said I could have a break."
"Break time's over, lemonade queen. I want you to use this thing." What I actually mean is that I want to see her use this thing. But we'll leave that part out.
She comes to her feet, a little reluctantly as she continues to eyeball the saw's jagged blade and approaches me with caution. "I can't use that," she states warily, shaking her fingers at me like she's doing jazz hands. "I happen to like having all of my fingers."
I can't help laughing. "I won't let anything happen to your fingers, Amber. But this is actually fun. So come here."
As she makes her way to me, I set the saw down and she faces me, eyes shining with curiosity as she waits for my instruction. I reach for the spare dust mask I have in my pocket and adjust it over her face, sad to see her lips disappear behind the papery fabric.
I grab the saw again, pointing out the different parts and explaining how to use it. Amber's head tilts in concentration, scanning the tool carefully as she listens to me.
"It has a little kick," I tell her with a smirk when I'm done. "So I'll help you hold it until you're comfortable, okay?"
"I'm scared," she bursts out in a slightly panicked laugh. She's nervous but I can also tell she's pretty excited about this, too.
"I've got you," I reassure her.
She nods, spinning around to face the outer panel of the playhouse and leaning back against my chest as I point out the four holes I've made at each corner and the lines I drew showing where we'll make the cuts. But of course, I can barely concentrate now. I didn't consider the blazing proximity this task would bring us into and I definitely wasn't ready to feel her body against mine like this.
I clear my throat and focus. "Okay, put your right index finger alongside the trigger and your other hand here..." Her left hand floats to the underside of the saw and I slide my fingers along her forearm, resting my own hand on top of hers.
She stands a little more straight now, lining the tip of the blade up with the hole at the top where we're starting at. "Do I push the trigger now?"
"Go ahead."
As soon as it starts up, the loud buzzing and the jolt of power from the saw spooks her. She falls back against me, again, pulling her fingers from the trigger. Her body molds against mine and her adorably frightened laugh vibrates through me, sending a very untimely rush of happiness to my dick, who's all too pleased to feel Amber's ass pressed against him.
Her head turns to look up at me and it doesn't matter that her mouth is covered with a dust mask because her smile is shining through those swirls of caramel in her eyes.
"You said it was a little kick," she sasses at me and I don't miss the little breathy thing going on in her voice as she speaks, making me wonder if it's the effect of the saw or if she's just as flustered as I am right now in this intimate position we're in.
I shrug, trying and failing to stay focused on something other than her ass. "Sorry... I'll help you hold it tighter," I tell her, knowing all that means is getting closer to her. And I'm more than fine with that.
"That would be good," she agrees quickly.
Her finger hits the trigger again and this time, we succeed in making a nice, clean cut downwards.
Amber stops the saw with a squeal, admiring our work. "Oh my gosh! We did it! I love this thing."
I laugh, absolutely giddy from her reaction. "You wanna try it by yourself?"
"No," she blurts out, keeping her face forward. "I'm good with you right here."
Say no more.
When the door and all the window squares are cut out, we take a snack break before sanding down all the edges. Since I wasn't able to acquire the right kind of electric sander in time, we resort to the manual sanding blocks we found at the store. Thankfully, the edges aren't too rough and it's not terrible to finish them by hand. If anything, it's kind of a pleasant task, a bit tedious but enjoyable when I get to work alongside Amber.
"So, do you get into these kinds of projects often? Is that why you have that cool power saw?" she asks as she slides her sanding block carefully up and down the door frame. "Cause if you just had it lying around, then I'm going to come right out and ask if I should be worried," she remarks with a laugh and the playfulness laced through her tone does a number on my gut.
She's so talkative and cute around me these days and it's such a stark contrast to our quiet beginnings, I just can't get enough of her voice.
"Very funny," I retort. "It's actually not mine though. I borrowed it from your neighbor."
She stops sanding and looks up at me, her brows raised in a blend of disbelief and confusion. "My neighbor? Which one?"
"Over there," I point at the house to the left. "Albert and Lynn. Did you meet them yet?"
"Oh, um... no, I haven't met them."
The new softness in her voice catches my attention and I look up at her. She's back to work on the door frame and not looking particularly as vibrant as she was moments ago.
"You should go introduce yourself and Mia," I comment, trying to keep my voice casual as I continue working on the next window. "Albert used to work in construction, so he has a ton of tools I'm sure he'd be more than happy to loan you if you need anything. He's also pretty handy and I got the feeling he was a little..." I trail off, trying to think of the best way to describe the newly retired Albert next door.
He was funny and very chatty, gave me the vibes that he wasn't fully adjusted to life away from work and the multitude of staff he was in charge of before retiring. I'm sure his wife is good company and happy to listen to him rattle off about his life's work but for a lively, people person like he is, sometimes you just need to keep your hands busy and talk to people who share your passion the way you do. I was happy to be that person for him during our short visit, even if a lot of what he said went over my head. I didn't have the heart to tell him my skills are pretty limited.
"He was a little what?" Amber's sweet voice rings out across the playhouse and I catch her curious eyes.
"Stir crazy," I tell her with a laugh. "Seemed a little like he was chomping at the bit to install some drywall or unclog a drain. So, keep that in mind if you ever need some help around the house."
Wait, I didn't mean that. I don't want Albert, the retired old construction guy, fixing things for her and Mia all the time. "That is, only if it's an emergency and you can't get ahold of me," I add quickly with a wink.
She smiles and seems to go deep in thought as she keeps working the sanding block over the wood.
"Have you met any of your neighbors yet?" I ask her, trying to fill the silence.
"Not really," she shrugs. "I've always sort of avoided them in the past. It didn't even occur to me that I should introduce myself. I don't really need people up in my business."
The words come out of her mouth with a little snap in them and her head shoots up to glance at me. She looks regretful and a bit concerned as she studies my eyes for a reaction and then looks away. "Sorry," she mutters. "I didn't mean for that to sound so mean. I just..."
Diverting my eyes to the sky, I buy myself a minute to think about how to respond. It's starting to get dark, making it clear we're not going to finish the playhouse until tomorrow, so I decide now is a good time to call it a day.
I walk around to the door where Amber's resumed her work on the frame and reach for the sanding block in her hand. "Amber," I begin softly, turning her face to look at me. "It's okay to be wary of people. Your experience hasn't been typical in the past and I know it probably wasn't pleasant to have people complicate things in your home but in my experience... I think people are mostly good and they're just looking out."
My mind drifts to the nosy neighbor on Fairview Street, the one who made the call that night I showed up. She had all the usual makings of a busybody but deep down, her concern for Amber was evident. She made the call that night because she was worried about Amber's well-being and for that of baby Mia, who she heard screaming through the walls along with the clatter of breaking dishes, even if she didn't know for sure what she was hearing.
Amber nods, a smile forming on her lips now. "I feel like I'm re-learning how to be a human sometimes. Does that sound weird?"
"Not at all," I shake my head. "You should take all the time you need."
"Did you have neighbors looking out for you?" Her voice is soft and I know she's probably thinking about the things I shared earlier. I've never done that before, gone into so much detail about my home life growing up. And I barely gave her anything. Somehow though, her sweet demeanor and genuine interest makes me want to drop everything in her capable hands.
"We did," I tell her with a smile, thinking about our old neighbor, Mrs. Goodwin, and all the ways she helped my family. I get emotional just thinking about her and having the holidays right around the corner certainly doesn't help. Mrs. Goodwin is the only reason we had any semblance of normalcy in our home at any given time, but she especially came through during the holidays and the rush of memories begins to flood me.
Amber reaches for my hand. "Will you tell me about her?"
I pull her toward me and she settles into my lap, straddling my legs as I stretch them out in front of me. "It's kind of sad."
"I don't mind."
"Her name was Carrie Goodwin and she was a saint," I begin, trudging down memory lane. "She'd lost her husband in Vietnam and never remarried. She would bring us dinner a few times a week when my mom was having trouble getting around. And she, uh... well, she was sometimes the only reason we had food in our pantry when my dad blew the grocery money on coke. She was also the one who made sure my sisters and I had gifts to open on Christmas morning for a few years when things began to get really bad. Even if it was just one or two things, we always had something. More than he ever gave us."
Amber's fingers glide up, running through my hair as she sits with me in comfortable silence, offering solace to me in a way I've never allowed anyone to do before. When one of her hands drifts down and lands on the side of my face, I reach up and hold it there, lost in the memory of a particularly bad Christmas morning. One that ended with a trip to the ER and left a scar on my face that's still there to this day, right under Amber's hand.
It's a strange blend of feelings that erupt in my heart and head at her touch, having her hand rest gently over the very spot that was cut open when my dad launched a book at me. Of all the fucking things. A damn book. The edge sliced right into my skin and left a pretty deep cut that needed eight stitches.
"He did this," I mutter, gripping Amber's fingers and running them along the slightly raised scar. She cranes her head around to look while I go on, "He threw a book at me and Mrs. Goodwin had to drive me to the hospital. He wasn't even high that day, he was just stressed about paying his dealer and he thought my mom had hidden money from him to get our gifts. All I could think about the whole time we were gone, while I was being stitched up... was if he was hurting anyone at home."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Tommy," Amber whispers, bringing her lips to the side of my face and kissing the scar. My chest goes tight at the gesture, not just from how utterly fucking sweet it was but also because it makes me realize how badly I want those lips of hers on mine, for us to share a real kiss.
I laugh a little because I have zero control over my emotions at the moment and I kind of want to get back to the cheerful mood we had going all day while we worked together and built the foundation of this playhouse.
"I told you it was sad," I tell her, meeting her eyes with a little smirk to break the tension.
She gives me a wistful smile. "And I told you I wouldn't mind."
"It's really not as bad as it sounds," I sigh, feeling the need to go on. "We had a lot of positive changes in our lives when he went away. We all fought our demons and came out pretty strong in the end. Sadie and I actually got to salvage the rest of our teen years and it... it really wasn't all bad. I mean, Harper is still a little withdrawn and my abhorrence of the holidays leaked right over into adulthood. But other than that..."
She nods slowly before making a face at me. "You hate the holidays?"
"I don't really care about them either way," I shrug, telling her the honest truth. I've just never really gotten into them.
"That explains why you were ready to spend Thanksgiving alone," she says thoughtfully as she begins to put pieces together. "Wait, is that why you don't have a tree?"
"No, I have a tree," I say, quick to interject because I don't want her jumping to any dire conclusions. But still, I look away from her piercing gaze as I tell her honestly, "I just don't decorate it."
Her shoulders sink and when she doesn't say anything in response to that, I feel like crap for ruining the vibe out here, especially when night has officially fallen and the moon is looking bright as hell and super cool right now. As relieved as I feel to get all that stuff off my chest, I didn't want to ruin the great day we had.
I try to laugh it off. "I'm killing the mood. I'm sorry for dropping a burning pile of depressing shit on you like that."
She laughs, too, and I love how it sounds. "I really don't mind. I like getting to know all of these things about you, the things that have made you the person you are today. Because despite how depressing it is, as you say... you've really become something amazing from those ashes."
My hands find her hips and I pull her closer, letting my head drop onto her shoulder, the perfect place to land. She smells good, her scent gives me a feeling like home. "Thanks for listening, Amber."
Her hands drift through my hair again and the relaxing feeling that overcomes me is pretty fucking incredible. I've never been one for having people run their fingers through my hair. Madi loved to do it and it always made me cringe. But there's something about Amber's hands that make everything feel so different, calming.
Why the fuck aren't we kissing right now?
I sit up, ready to read this woman once and for all and figure out if the time is right to lay one on her but instead, she speaks up first.
Her voice is full of energy. "We shouldn't end the night like this, Tommy."
"Okay," I mutter hesitantly, caught off guard by the sudden change in her mood. "What did you have in mind?" Because I definitely know what's on mine.
She lays her hand on my heart and my skin feels like it's burning under her touch. "You're stressed, I can feel your heart going all wacko in there. And I think that calls for the ultimate stress reliever that this town just happens to offer." Her eyebrows are jumping up and down like bouncy balls and she's —
Oh boy, I know where she's going with this.
"I'm not howling at the bridge with you, Amber."
Her laughter echoes through the backyard and she stands up, leaving my lap cold and lonely. "We're doing this. Let's go."
._._._.
"You know, this goes against every oath I've taken," I tell Amber, leaning over the railing of the bridge just to see how far down it is. I'm not usually at this vantage point when I'm here making a bust.
"Just don't think about it, okay? Let your mind take a stroll back to your youth and," she stops herself, her frown gleaming in the moonlight before she shakes it off. "I know you had a rough start," she offers softly. "But you said so yourself that you and Sadie salvaged your teen years. So, go back to that. Go back to that place where things started taking a positive turn and release all the shitty stuff from before that. Give in to the howl, Tommy."
I stand up straight, taking a deep breath and trying to do as she says. My gaze wanders up to the moon, pleading with it for a little courage. But it doesn't work. All I can think about is that damn oath and I start laughing, actually irritated with myself that I can't get there.
Am I a fucking square?
I don't think I'm a square. I used to be cool. Sadie and I used to break into the pool at the community center all the time with our friends during my senior year, which was sort of our Oakwood right of passage. That was a long time ago though. I obey the rules now. I may bend them from time to time for the generations of teens that came after me but that's only because I was robbed of most of that time in my life and I think everyone should experience it a little. But that's for them. I don't do this shit anymore. Not to mention, howling off a bridge is ridiculous and it's my job to deter others from this very activity.
"Forget about the badge, Sallow," Amber encourages, reading my mind for once. "You're not wearing it right now."
My eyes are on the water, watching it ripple in the streams of light shining down. "I'm always wearing it," I mutter under my breath. "Maybe not physically but I can't just go around committing crimes on my days off."
Amber scoffs. "This is hardly a crime. Maybe a little reckless but not a crime."
"It's ridiculous."
"It's freeing."
"It's embarrassing."
She smirks. "Maverick would do it."
She didn't just go there. "You can't Top Gun this shit."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure I just did," she gleams. "Come on, Tommy. I promise, you'll like it. Don't you trust me?"
She's staring me down with those pretty eyes and she looks so fucking good. I don't know how I haven't folded to her ways yet, but I feel the need to point out one last thing, a last ditch effort to bring this impossible woman back to reality with me. "You know, if I was working tonight, I'd be getting a call here to potentially arrest the reckless people coming up here to fucking howl. Doesn't that bother you?"
She takes a step toward me, her eyes still glued on mine and a little heat in her voice as she asks, "You gonna arrest me, Officer Sallow?"
Woah. Oh fuck, who am I kidding thinking I ever stood a chance against this woman?
I groan in frustration. But I also turn toward the railing. And I howl.
I howl off the fucking Bay Park Bridge like every other juvenile delinquent I've caught up here and forced to leave. I feel absurd. But what I didn't count on was the renewing rush of adrenaline. Wow, that really fucking works.
Amber grabs my hand, laces her fingers through mine as she looks up at me. "Feel better?"
My head bobs up and down slowly, completely fucking distracted by the pulse of electricity shooting up my arm at her touch. A simple hand hold, that's all it took for her to completely capture my full attention. I turn my body to face her now as my eyes flash from those caramel swirls, down to her perfect lips, and back up again. I notice the exact same movement in her eyes and, unlike earlier, I'm not letting this moment pass. My next words come out on their own.
"I'm going to kiss you, Amber."
I give her a couple of heartbeats to respond and she doesn't object. She just stares back at me, eyes calm and serene as she waits for my next move. I close the final distance between us and reach for her face, cradling it in my hands as I bring my mouth down to hers.
A wave of strange emotion rolls off of me as I get my first taste of her lips. Kissing her is nothing like I expected it would be. It's so much more. Sort of like falling apart and being put back together again in the same breath. I've never felt like that before and it feels really damn good.
Her lips are soft and welcoming as they melt into mine and I feel her hands slide up my chest. There's a desperation to her touch that tells me she's just as gone as I am right now. My tongue slides across the seam of her lips, seeking entry, and she parts them for me, letting me explore her warm mouth. She tastes fucking delicious, like vanilla chapstick and a hint of that sugary lemonade she was sipping earlier. I feel like devouring her.
Her arms circle around my neck and she comes up on tiptoes, her head tilting into our kiss like she can't get close enough. My arms sweep around her waist as I try to bring her as near to me as humanly possible, getting more and more lost in her mouth as our tongues brush against each other, furthering my plummet into the depths of her.
She's all I can think about, all I can see and feel. And that's exactly how I like it.
If her goal tonight was to make me feel like a teenager again, let's just say she fucking succeeded. I feel like a horny emotional mess as I pull away from her silky lips to let us both catch our breath.
She smiles up at me, her tinted cheeks and swollen lips making her look like a fucking wet dream, just standing there in the glow from the moon and looking like she'd do just about anything to attack my mouth with her own again.
"I think we should do that again," she whispers.
Oh fuck, yes. Please.