“Fine. Though your ex has the upper-body strength of a T. rex.”

I bark out a laugh and nearly drop my water. And I keep laughing because it’s so true. When I moved into my apartment, Henry was completely useless. I cover my mouth while I struggle to get myself under control, and Silas’s smile is so warm and gentle, it feels almost like our last conversation didn’t happen.

With the sun beating down on his back, his hair seems more golden than normal, and he really is unfairly gorgeous.

“You still busy? I’ve got a new project that I need some help with.”

My eyes are drawn to his Adam’s apple again as he takes another drink. That freaking thing is going to be my downfall.

“No, I’m done. With my part anyway. Henry might be here until nightfall.”

I close my eyes and bite back a smile. Feeling a little vindictive over an ex is normal, right? Totally valid.

“Come on, then.”

I lead him back to the section of the house we’re supposed to clear from vines. They’ve crept their way from a nearby tree, all the way up to the gutters. Silas whistles. “I think we’re gonna need a ladder.”

I nod. “I’ll go see if I can find one.”

He touches my shoulder to stop me. “I got it.” Then just for a moment, he tucks a stray hair behind my ear, and his fingers linger on my neck. As he leaves, I can’t help but wonder if this is what dating Silas would be like. Little touches. Warm smiles. Uninhibited laughter.

Could it be good? Could it be more than just mind-blowing kisses and miraculously talented hands? Am I crazy for even thinking that’s a possibility?

I have to remember that Silas and I live by very different definitions, and dating would no doubt fall into those disparities.

I pull on one of the pair of gloves that Greg gave me and start clearing away the brush at the bottom of the house. I give an experimental tug on a grouping of vines. The thickest one holds fast, but I manage to grip a smaller one and pull a couple feet of it away from the house before it snaps, just leaving a piece of it in my hands.

I’m bent over at the waist tugging at the larger vine again when Silas returns.

“Bad news.”

I glance up and he’s staring at my butt. I straighten, but his eyes stay glued to a backside that I know is on the larger side because I don’t really have the time or inclination to spend much time working out. And by much, I mean any.

“Bad news?” I prompt.

He looks up at me with a lopsided grin, completely unapologetic, and says, “All the ladders are being used, so we’ll have to improvise.”

“We can work on the stuff we can reach until one opens up.”

“It might be a while,” he says. “But I’ve thought of an alternative.”

I raise my eyebrows in question.

“If you sit on my shoulders we should be able to reach pretty close to the top, enough that you could probably pull at the highest stuff.”

“Is that why you were staring at me?” I don’t say at my butt, because we both know what I’m talking about.

“I’m not sure that’s a question you want me to answer in public.”

Well, clearly my earlier outburst didn’t faze him at all. Or if it did, he’s not letting me see.

“Are you sure it’s not better to wait for a ladder?”

“That doesn’t sound better to me at all.”

I try to ignore the flirting, not to take it too seriously, but he’s gorgeous so it’s more than a little difficult to keep a clear head.

“You’re not going to drop me?”

“I’m not Henry. I think I can handle you, Pickle.”

“You’re never letting go of that, are you?”

“I could be persuaded.”

Yeah. Not even touching that one.

“Let’s just do this.”

I grab his forearm and lead him around the back of the house to the steps and climb up two of those to give me a little extra height. He bends until he’s practically resting on his heels, and then using our newly repaired handrail for a brace, I put one leg over his shoulder and then the other.

“Ready?” he asks. I keep a hold on the handrail and then tell him yes.

He stands like he’s got twenty pounds on his shoulders instead of a whole person, and I lock my legs tightly around him, hooking my feet around his sides, and sinking my hands into his hair while I try to find my balance.

“Not how I pictured having my head between your legs for the first time.”

I slap his shoulder hard, and he laughs. “Just being honest.”

“Honesty is not one of your issues.” I mean it to be a joke, but he stills beneath me, and I know I’ve brought up the memory of our earlier argument, and it must bother him, no matter how much flirtation he hides behind.

His arms lay against my calves and his hands hook over the top of my thighs to hold on, and he starts walking back to our work area. He lets me direct him to stand where I want him, and then with my legs squeezing tightly to hold myself in place, I reach up and begin to pull.

My first lump of freed vines falls all over Silas’s head below me, and I make an idiot of myself apologizing again and again, like somehow he might know I’m really apologizing for everything.

“Just be glad it isn’t poison ivy,” he says.

I gasp because I didn’t even think of that, nor do I know for sure it’s not. Maybe that’s why Greg gave me the gloves.

“Oh my God. What if it is?”

I lean over to look at his face, checking for reddening skin, and he has to reach out one of his bare hands to balance himself against the house in response to my movement. And now his na**d hand is on the vine, and he’s going to hate me by the time this day is over if I keep this up.

“It’s not,” he says.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. The stuff was all over the house and yard I lived in during high school.”

I pause, going over his odd choice of words. The house he lived in during high school. Not a home. Not his childhood. He talks about it like I talk about growing up in foster care. And I wonder, maybe, if we have that in common. If maybe he wasn’t quite as lucky as I was.

“Ask me a question,” I say.

“Why?”

“Because I want to ask you one, but it’s not my turn.”