Falling for Jillian
Page 14

And it just might be.
“What in the bloody hell are you doing up there?”
I gasp and clench my hands around the ladder, knowing exactly who is standing below me, as if I conjured him from my thoughts.
How did I not hear him approach?
“You scared me!”
“If you’d answer your damn phone once in a while, I wouldn’t have startled you.” I look down into deep brown eyes that have dark circles under them. His hair is stuffed under that beanie and his hands are braced on my ladder.
He’s scowling.
“What are you doing?” he asks again.
“I’m curing cancer, Zack.” I roll my eyes and secure another plastic clip to the gutter. “What does it look like?”
“You shouldn’t be on a ladder in this weather.”
“It’s not snowing or raining.”
“It’s still slippery.”
“I’m careful.” I shrug and grin to myself. I love getting him riled up, and I can’t explain why. It’s just fun.
“Let me do this for you.”
“My house, my lights, my problem.”
“Come on, Jilly, get down.”
I shake my head no, and suddenly, strong hands circle my hips and I’m pulled off the ladder like a five-year-old.
“What the hell!” I cry out as he sets me effortlessly on the ground.
“I won’t have you on that fucking ladder in the middle of winter, Jillian.” He scowls down at me and I get a clear look at his face.
He looks tired, and maybe a little sad.
“I was doing fine,” I insist.
“Hand me the lights,” he replies and moves the ladder. As he climbs it, I have a prime view of his spectacular denim-covered ass.
“What are you here for?” I call up to him as I feed him the lights.
“We’ll talk about it after we finish this. Do you just want these on the gutters, or do you want some up on the other eaves too?”
“I was just going to do the gutters, but I have more lights. I don’t want to walk on the roof.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” he grumbles, making me grin again. “I’ll put them up there for you, if you bought enough. Just grab my staple gun out of my truck.”
“I have a staple gun in the Christmas box.” I rummage around and hand it up to him.
He nods and goes about the task, not saying much. I can’t help but admit that he does the job at least three times faster than I could have, and before I know it, he’s climbed up onto the roof.
My heart is in my throat and I watch with wide eyes as he carefully steps around the eaves, stapling lights as he goes. My hands are clenched tightly under my chin and I’m whispering prayers that he doesn’t fall.
“You can go inside, Jilly,” Zack calls down as he staples lights around a window. “I have this covered.”
“Hell no, I’m not going inside!”
“It’s cold out here.”
I’m not even aware of it. It occurs to me that I can’t feel my nose or my feet anymore, and I don’t care. My eyes are pinned to the tall, handsome man on my roof.
“I’m fine,” I reply.
“Have I mentioned that you’re stubborn?”
“Once or twice.”
He laughs and shakes his head and secures the last staple.
“Okay, plug them in.”
I run to the porch and plug in the lights, then run back into the front yard to see them.
“Oh, they’re so pretty!”
“Thank God they all work,” he says as he tosses the black shoe down to the ground and then moves carefully down to the ladder. “It would be a bitch to have to take them back down.”
“I checked them,” I assure him, and when his foot finally lands safely on the snow and he turns to me, I hit him on the arm. “You shouldn’t have done that! You took ten years off my life!”
I throw my arms around his torso and squeeze him tightly, then back away.
“No, you shouldn’t have been on that ladder. If I catch you on one again, I’ll spank your ass until it glows.”
My jaw drops as I gaze up into his frustrated face. For once in my life, I’m speechless. I scowl as I pull myself together and clench my fists. “You wouldn’t dare . . .”
“Put yourself in danger again and see if I don’t,” he replies calmly and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Did you come here to bully me?”
He sighs and pulls his beanie off his head, pushing his fingers through the messy brown strands. I want to sink my fingers in that thick, dark hair.
“No. I came because you won’t answer your fucking phone so I can apologize for the other night.”
“I don’t want your apology,” I reply and throw the extra lights and staple gun back into the tote and turn away, but he catches my arm and turns me back to him, takes the tote, and sets it down.
“I’m going to give it anyway.” His jaw is firm. “I had no right to kiss you like that in the parking lot for everyone to see.”
I jerk back, mortified. “You’re apologizing for kissing me?”
He shakes his head and starts to speak, but I interrupt.
“So let me get this straight. You’re not apologizing for yelling at me, or for walking out on me that morning without a note or a word, or even for turning me on and then leaving me. You’re apologizing for fucking kissing me.”