by Iris Parker
"She's gone for two hours, not two weeks," I said, crossing my arms defensively.
"Well, we can get started. But I think you'll be surprised by how much I can do in just a couple hours," Dominick said, gracefully ignoring how badly I'd embarrassed myself. "And it'll be good for us. Vitamin D and all that. I'm holed up in a rink or a gym way too often for my liking. Where does your landlady live?"
"Across the street," I answered reluctantly, even though Dominick's glorious tan made me highly suspicious of his claim. "Her name is Mrs. Lauer."
Dominick nodded, quickly setting out to go find her. I waited in the kitchen, sipping on the lemonade and trying my best to avoid peeking out the window and staring at Dominick's tight backside. Five minutes later, he was back, triumphantly pushing Mrs. Lauer's large mower.
"I'm surprised she gave you the time of day," I said after running out to open the back gate. "She's a good friend, but awfully suspicious of strangers."
Suspicious was putting it mildly. Everyone needs a hobby, and Mrs. Lauer's was amateur web-sleuthing. She spent a great deal of time and energy going over cold case police reports, posting her theories to a forum full of likeminded individuals. It was sweet, but it also gave her a tendency to think axe-murderer every time she saw a lumberjack.
I wondered what she thought of Dominick, a giant and muscled stranger asking for her lawn mower out of the blue. It couldn't possibly have gone well.
Except, obviously, it had.
"Not quite a stranger," Dominick said. "She just wanted an autograph."
"My landlady is a fan of hockey?" I asked. "My prim-and-proper, retired landlady? The one who bakes oatmeal cookies every week?"
"Apparently. Takes all kinds," Dominick said as he checked over the mower. A moment later he started it, the noisy machine whirring to life. I took a step back as he tested it on a small patch of overgrowth, the blades cutting through it with ease. "Anything you want to salvage? Or objects I need to look out for?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Great. Chill that lemonade, would you? We'll be needing it soon," he said over the noise, pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the table. His eyes twinkled in the sunlight and I stood transfixed, unable to look away.
I answered his request with a nod, but inside my head I could only form one word.
Virile.
Helena
I went back inside, popping the lemonade into the freezer to keep it as cold as possible while trying very hard not to stand by and gawk at the spectacle outside my window. Dominick had broken a sweat, and the sharp muscles of his back glistened in the sunlight. His shoulders were large and round, and I wanted to reach out and touch them. To run my hands over the expanse of exposed skin, exploring the bulges of his biceps.
And triceps.
And any other bulges I might've been able to find.
My breath was slow and heavy as my fingers ran their way across my own body. Shivers rocked me from head to toe as I drank in the glorious view, unable to look away no matter how hard I tried.
It was probably rude to stay inside while he was working out there.
It was definitely rude to do…whatever it was I was doing while I watched.
I should've been ashamed, but I still couldn't bring myself to stop. I couldn't explain it, even to myself. I'd seen countless images of fit, muscular men all my life. Television, movies, news reports of athletes. I'd never cared much, and certainly had never experienced any reaction as powerful as this one.
Dominick was so ripped that it seemed impossible he was simply a man. His body seemed too perfect, like he belonged atop Mount Olympus with the rest of his pantheon. At the same time, he seemed inviting—not just in how he looked, but also in how he acted and spoke. He seemed so far from the twisted stereotype I imagined him to be, and the longer I spent with him the harder it was to convince myself that it was all an act.
He seemed like a good guy, genuinely.
The loud noise came to a sudden stop as Dominick cut the engine and turned back towards the house. I yelped in surprise at the abrupt silence, amazed to find that he'd already mowed the entire yard area. He'd even moved the table and chairs to get beneath them, something I didn't even remember him doing.
It must've been when he bent over, I realized. I had an almost photographic memory of that, the way his muscles had shifted and his ass had come into perfect focus. I'd been completely oblivious to why he was doing that, simply enjoying the show and apparently memorizing every hard curve on his body.
Dominick walked back towards the house, striding towards me. Panic erupted in me as I realized I must've been standing here and staring for a long time, and had I nothing to show for it. If he asked me where I was, or what I was doing, I'd have no answer.
It would be best if I were in another room when he came back in, I told myself, willing my feet to run somewhere else.
Anywhere else.
Out on the yard, Dominick used his forearm to wipe away the streams of sweat running down his face.
And my feet stayed exactly where they were.
By the time he reached the door, it was too late to run away. I did my best to act natural as he came back in, desperately hoping that he wouldn't comment on my absence.
"Welcome back," I said, a little too hastily. "You did a great job! Sorry I couldn't come out, I was just, er—reading a paper for work."
Right, because that was going to work. I sounded like Ali when she was younger and had eaten all the cookies, beginning the conversation with I didn't do it! as soon as I walked into the kitchen.
"You did a great job out there," I added.
"Thanks," Dominick said with a smile.
"No need to thank me! I should be thanking you, profusely," I said, trying to ignore the tawdry images of how I could thank him. "That was incredibly nice of you, and it looks fantastic. Thank you so much."
"Well, I don't know about fantastic, but it's definitely a good start," Dominick answered.
"Really?" I asked, tilting to the side to get a clear view around Dominick's large frame. "It looks good to me."
"There's a lot that needs to be done, still."
"Just tell me what to do," I said automatically, realizing too late how suggestive it sounded. I hoped that it was just me, that Dominick wouldn't notice, but the short silence that followed told me he had.
That, and the way his smile got just a little bigger and…hungrier.
Also the fact that his eyes scanned down my body, setting it on fire in the process.
As if I wasn't hot enough already.
"I mean," I said after a moment, "just tell me what you need."
Not.
Helping.
"Outside," I finally added. "You've done so much already, just tell me what you need me to do, and I can do the rest myself."
"Well, I was thinking about how that patio furniture could be salvaged. A little work with a sander would probably take the rust right off," Dominick said.
"You mean like, using power tools?" I asked, trying to hide my horror. "I've always been convinced I'd lose a finger within seconds if I tried to use any of those."
"I don't think a sander can do that," Dominick answered reassuringly.
"I would find a way," I stated flatly. Realizing a moment too late how unreasonable I was being, I quickly backpedaled. "But, you've done so much, maybe it's time for me to get over that phobia. It's the least I can do. Besides, my father and even Ali are both very mechanically minded. I'm sure that I really put my mind to it, I could find it in myself—"
"Or I could just keep coming back here to help," Dominick suggested, interrupting my babbling.
"Yespleasethankyougod," I said in a rush. "But wait, won't that really eat into your time with Ali? I don't want to do that to you, or her."
"It wouldn't be a problem if I keep showing up early like this," Dominick offered. My heart started pumping just a little harder, my mood lifting to be a little brighter. Part of me loved the idea of Dom
inick coming by for regular alone time, even as the rest of me felt guilty for imposing.
"Would you really be okay with that?" I asked. "It doesn't seem right, treating you like you were a handyman I hired off Craigslist or something. I'd feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
"You taking advantage of me?" Dominick said, emphasizing the words you and me so subtly that I thought I was imagining it. At least until a second later, when his eyes trailed down to my dress once more.
Again I felt the same hyper-awareness of my body that I'd experienced earlier, almost as if he were touching me instead of looking at me. When his gaze finally reached my breasts, they lingered there for a moment. It filled me with a mass of contradictory emotions, pushing me in every direction at once.
Part of me wanted to respond to it the way I usually responded to men treating me that way, by crossing my arms or even telling him my eyes are up here.
Part of me enjoyed in the sensation, feeling unabashedly sexual for the first time in years. Despite all his gentlemanly efforts, he wanted me.
Dominick.
A man who could have practically any woman he chose.
He wanted me.
The feeling was an incredible thrill. It was enough that one more part of me—an insane part—wanted to stop talking entirely. I wanted to lunge for him and wrap my arms around his body, to pull myself up and give him an unexpected kiss. It would've been completely inappropriate, of course, but deep down I couldn't help but revel in the forbidden feeling.
Dominick's eyes went back up to mine, and the desire in his face was plain even to me. He knew that I knew, had seen that I caught him staring. I gave him a soft smile—even as the normal parts of my brain yelled what the hell are you doing—and we continued on as if nothing had happened.
"I don't see it that way," Dominick said finally. "You're not taking advantage of me at all. Handymen aren't the only people who do chores like that."
"No?" I asked, wondering where he was heading with this. "Who else would spend hours working on my derelict back yard?"
"Well, the way I see it," Dominick began, his voice soft as he spoke. "It's exactly the kind of thing a man does for his family."
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
There were no words.
Helena
Spending the morning on my hands and knees pulling out weeds was hardly my idea of a good time. All the same, I could hardly just let Dominick do all the work by himself while I sat and watched.
No matter how much I had enjoyed the watching.
Even if cleaning out the yard had never been my intention, at least I'd gotten to learn a few things.
Such as, for example, the fact that I had a flower bed.
Oh sure, I'd seen it before. I knew that it existed, on the same abstract level that I knew helicopters existed. I'd simply never imagined being in a position to use one, or that I might be the sort of person who had the time and energy—not to mention the ability—to grow a bunch of flowers.
But then Dominick had pointed it out to me, and said he couldn't get at it with the mower, and I'd found myself volunteering to clean it out. Because apparently, all it took for me to radically change my outlook on life was a pretty face.
I was a hopeless romantic after all, it seemed.
Or, you know, a complete and total sucker.
I wondered if there was even a difference.
So there I was, dripping sweat and bent over in my summer dress, futilely trying to figure out what was a weed and what wasn't—at least until Dominick had sheepishly pointed out it was all weeds. That made sense, given that I'd never actually seen a single flower in my alleged flower bed.
After a while, I was starting to get the hang of it.
Particularly after I realized that platform sandals were less-than-ideal footwear for gardening, and kicked them off. After that had come the revelation about simply kneeling, which helped even more.
Dominick finished up with the rest of the lawn and began on the other side of the flower bed, working towards me at an impressive speed. By the time we met in the middle, I felt exhausted but weirdly content. Feeling Dom's presence right next to me left me with a kind of glow, a warm feeling that I couldn't quite explain.
Dominick, on the other hand, had no trouble explaining the glow.
"Oh shit," he said, looking at me with some horror. I nervously looked down, half expecting this to end up like one of those dreams where you're in the middle of a school play and suddenly realize you're naked.
Yet, even though my dress had gotten very dirty, it was still attached to me. Besides, Dominick wasn't looking at my chest.
"Oh shit!" I repeated, following Dom's eyes to my shoulders. They were bright pink, and radiated heat when I put my hand near to them. "I forgot to use sunscreen!"
Climbing back to my feet, I turned to run back inside. Halfway to the door I stumbled as a stab of pain shot between my toes. With a loud yelp, I dropped back down to my knees.
"Are you okay?" Dominick yelled, rushing to my side and looking quite concerned.
I nodded, clenching my teeth hard as I looked down and saw a large stinger lodged in my foot. "Stepped on a bee," I said, gasping a bit.
"Let me look," he said. "Can you walk?"
I opened my mouth to say I think so, but Dominick shook his head and kept talking before I had a chance.
"Stupid question. Here, let me help," he said, and before I knew what was happening he'd scooped me up into his arms. "Hold tight," he said.
This seems excessive, I wanted to say, but Dominick was already carrying me effortlessly back into the house. I felt more than a little ridiculous, but I had to admit that this was far easier, not to mention faster and less painful, than trying to walk on the stung foot. He took me into the living room, gently placing me onto the couch.
"Thanks," I said after taking a deep breath. Dominick was already across the room, turning on the light before he hurried back to my side.
"Are you allergic? Do you have any tweezers?" he asked.
"Not allergic. Tweezers are in the bathroom, with the first aid kit, but you don't have to—"
Dominick was gone before I could finish my sentence. He had no trouble finding his way, and within moments he was back with the metal box. "Show me?" he asked softly, already kneeling down by the couch.
I lifted my foot for him and he began looking it over closely. The pain was still throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the mortification I felt when I realized the compromising position I'd put myself in. This man, this gorgeous, sexy man that I'd been flirting with was kneeling practically between my legs. It would've been incredibly easy for him to take advantage, to steal a peek up my dress and pretend it was an accident. Hell, it would've been incredibly easy to actually take a look by accident. There was nothing to stop him.
I bit my lip and stared down at him, waiting for it to happen.
His eyes never went above my foot, not even once. Instead, all of his attention was focused on removing the stinger as painlessly as possible. When it was done, he gently applied an antihistamine cream to the site before wrapping the whole thing in gauze.
"There," he said quietly. "Now, let's do something about that sunburn," he said, motioning with his hand for me to turn around. He went back to the bathroom, returning quickly with a couple of washcloths he'd dampened with cold water.
I shivered as Dominick placed the cloth on my shoulders, feeling a little ridiculous that he was taking care of me like a child. I was still shaken from the bee and the near-miss wardrobe malfunction, however, and Dominick's orders seemed so sincere and commanding that I couldn't help but comply. Besides, I had to admit that the cool material felt good against my overheated skin, and that the stinger removal had gone much better than it would have had I been stumbling around the house on my own.
"You're really burnt. I can't believe it happened so fast," Dominick said, rubbing some lotion on his hands. His voice was low and full of concer
n.
"That bad?" I asked.
"Well, let's just say I've never seen anyone react like that since my cousin visited from Ireland. We took him to the doctor, but you're not as bad as that, I think," he said, sounding distracted. I winced, convincing myself that I'd embarrassed myself enough today to last us both a lifetime.
I cringed inwardly a little, convincing myself that Dominick must be rethinking this. The yard upkeep for sure, maybe more. He had every reason to think I was a major goofball after this. Dominick had this glamorous, take-no-prisoners lifestyle that involved models and parties and adoring fans that apparently included my landlady. The last thing someone like that needed was having to coddle a dweeb like me, taking care of booboos caused by my own incompetence.
Of course, usually I wasn't quite so erratic or scatterbrained. It's not like Dominick could know that, though, given my increasingly regrettable decision to hide the pregnancy and the fact that I always seemed to act klutzy whenever he was around. It wasn't, after all, like he could see how I acted when I was alone or with Ali.
"I'm sorry," Dominick said finally, and I winced. Certain that his next words were going to be this was a mistake or I should go, I was shocked when he said something else entirely. "This is all my fault."
"I," I began automatically, pausing as the words sunk in. "Wait, what?"
"You warned me that you had bad luck with the outdoors, and like a jackass I pushed you anyway. None of this would've happened if I'd just kept my mouth shut."
"No," I said after I'd had time to process the unexpected words. "It's not your fault. I'm the one who let the lawn get so out of control, and I'm the one who forgot the sunscreen and stepped on a bee. All you wanted was to help out. I appreciate that. Thank you."
"It's nice of you to say that," Dominick said, his voice sounding unconvinced. "But I'm sure you had other plans for your morning than yard work. And I did show up early. Even if you hadn't gotten hurt, I still messed up your day."
"Dominick," I said, feeling touched that he seemed to take the minor injuries so much to heart. "It's really okay. I was actually—uh…I was actually kind of enjoying it, right up until I went all Inspector Clouseau on you."
