Always and Forever

Arms crossed over his chest, Jamal stepped to the side so she could move past him. As he watched her walk up the back steps and into the house, he couldn’t imagine how he would get through the next few months working alongside her.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to worry about running into Phylicia all that much. With him outside measuring the strawboard that would replace the walls in the bedrooms, and her working inside in the front parlor, he hardly saw her for most of the morning. At noon, Jamal tossed the carpenter’s pencil aside and entered the house through the door just off the kitchen.

He stopped at the arched entryway between the parlor and downstairs sitting room and watched as Phylicia carefully pried a section of aged wainscoting from the wall. She gingerly laid it next to an identical piece she’d placed on the floor, and turned to tackle the next section.

As she bent over, Jamal’s hands fisted at the way the faded denim cupped her ass like a well-worn baseball glove. It probably felt as soft and smooth, too. He reined in the urge to walk up to her and test it for himself.

Stop it, he ordered himself. Phylicia had made her feelings known; he had to respect them, no matter how much it killed him to do so.

He shoved away from the doorjamb. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

She jumped and turned.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “Between the pounding and the music you’d have to wear a cowbell around your neck to announce your arrival.” She smiled, and that urge to kiss her roared back to life. “Did you need something?” she asked.

And isn’t that a loaded question?