Second Chance for Romance полностью

put their heads together and sketched out a basic box with slightly sloped sides. Christy started to put dimensions on it, but her math was terrible.

“Here, give me that.” I laughed and took the tape measure from her. Then I measured the statue and made notes. I took their basic design and cleaned it up quite a bit. Then I added some structural support for the outside, to keep the plywood from deforming under the pressure of the mold material.

“You have done this before,” the girl said.

“No. But it’s fairly simple.”

“He designs buildings,” Christy boasted.

“So you’re an architect,” punk girl said, “not an artist?”

I started to reply, but Christy beat me to it.

“He’s both. Architecture is art. Michelangelo was an architect. He designed St. Peter’s Basilica.”

I laughed. “So you were paying attention.”

She beamed.

“Michelangelo had help,” I told the other two. “He took over Bramante’s design and incorporated elements from Raphael. That’s basically what I’m doing here.”

“Whatever,” punk girl said. “Let’s get a move on. We don’t have all night.”

I didn’t particularly like her, but the girl worked hard and knew what she was doing in general. Christy and the guy held and fetched things for us, and we finished the basic structure in a couple of hours. We took a break when Wren and Trip showed up with a picnic dinner of sorts.

“I knew y’all would be hungry,” she said as she laid out food on a makeshift plywood table. “And Christy forgets to eat when she’s working.”

“I don’t have time for food.”

“You still need to eat.” Wren gave me a look of disapproval, like it was my job to keep Christy properly fed.

“Yes, mother,” Christy said with affection. “I promise I’ll be a good girl and eat all my vegetables.” She winked at me and began loading her plate.

The others joined in. We chatted as we did, but then conversation died as we began shoveling food into our mouths. Christy ate all her vegetables, as promised, and went back for seconds. She wasn’t a quick eater, but she never stopped. Wren brought out a roll of aluminum foil and loaded two plates of leftovers for later.

“Thanks,” punk girl said as she cleaned her own plate. “That was really

good.”

“You want to take some with you?” Wren offered. She brandished the foil.

“If you don’t mind.”

“My pleasure.”

“Mine too,” the girl said.

Something about her warmth made me pause. I shot a questioning glance at Christy, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

After Wren finished with the leftovers for Christy’s friends, she and Trip began repacking the wicker clothes hamper they’d used to bring everything.

Wren gave us hugs and told us not to work too late, and then they left. I scanned the box plans and told Christy’s friends that we could finish on our own. They took off as well, food in hand.

“Come on, Little Bit,” I said to Christy. “Let’s knock this out.”

“Just a sec.” She carefully pushed a pile of scrap lumber together at my feet.

“What’re you doing?”

“You’ll see. Hand me that board thingy.”

“The two-by-four, you mean?”

“Whatever it’s called. I need it.”

She built up her pile until it was almost a foot tall. Then she tested its stability. She shifted a couple of boards.

I thought I knew what she was doing, but I still smiled when she stepped onto the pile and rose to my level.

She put her arms around my neck and kissed me. I caught her when the pile suddenly shifted. She never broke the kiss, though, and even locked her legs around me to hold herself in place. She squeaked when I grabbed her ass with both hands, but she still didn’t pull away.

“That was nice,” I said when we eventually came up for air. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“For being the most awesome guy in the world.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Only the ones I like.”

“Oh? Is it a long list?”

“It’s a list of one.” She grinned mischievously. “Although…”

“Although…?”

“It’s a long list of one, if you know what I mean.”

I threw back my head and laughed.

She smiled, and her blue eyes shone with pleasure.

“We’d better get back to work,” I said eventually.

“Spoilsport.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Kiss me again. One more time.”

“Wait, you kissed me. You do it again.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

She grinned.

“What?” I said, suddenly uncertain.

“I like hearing you say that.”

“What… ‘what’?”

“Uh-uh.”

I thought back through what I’d said and then rolled my eyes.

“Say it again, say it again.” She grinned like a little kid.

“Make me.”

“Do you want to kiss me again?”

I nodded smugly.

“No fair! You have to say it.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“Say it again, please?”

I pretended to think.

“Please, please. I promise, I’ll do whatever you want.”

I glanced thoughtfully at the plywood table.

She followed my eyes and blushed pink to the tips of her ears.

“Whatever I want?”

“Not that. Not till we’re married. I told you.”

“And I told you, it’s gonna happen long before then.” I put my lips to her ear. “Long and hard and often.”

She sighed.