I took the glass. Our fingers brushed, and I saw her shiver despite the heat.
She didn't pull away.
"Can I watch?" she asked. "The building. I don't know anything about construction."
"You want to watch me work?"
"I want to be outside. And you happen to be outside." She shrugged, but there was a hint of challenge in her eyes. "Unless I'm too distracting."
She settled into one of the chairs at the edge of the construction zone, legs curled under her, lemonade in hand. I went back to work, hyperaware of her eyes on me.
The sun was beating down and sweat dripped down my back. I pulled off my shirt without thinking, tossing it aside, and heard her sharp intake of breath.
When I glanced over, her eyes were fixed on my chest. My stomach. The trail of hair that disappeared into my jeans.
"Eyes up here Daisy." I said as I stood taller.
Her gaze snapped to my face. Her cheeks flushed pink.
"You're different," she said. "Than you were."
"Eight years of manual labor will do that."
"It's not the muscles." She set down her lemonade, stood, walked toward me. "It's everything. The way you carry yourself. The way you talk. You used to be so..."
"Angry?"
"Reckless." She stopped a foot away from me. "You used to fight like you had nothing to lose."
"I didn't. Back then." I held her gaze. "Now I do."
"What changed?"
"You left." The truth came out before I could stop it. "You left, and I realized that all the fighting, all the anger, it wasn't getting me anywhere. It wasn't going to bring you back. So I stopped."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she reached out and touched my chest. Just her fingertips, light as a whisper, resting over my heart.
"Knox."
I caught her wrist to hold her there.
"Don't start something you can't finish," I said quietly. "Not until you know everything."
She stepped closer. Her hand flattened against my chest, her body inches from mine. I could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her tank top.
"Last night," she said softly, "when you kissed me back. That wasn't nothing."
"No. It wasn't."
"So why are you fighting this so hard?"
"Because I don't deserve you." The words ripped out of me, raw and honest. "Because I walked away once, and I'm terrified that when you know why, you'll realize I was right to do it."
"You don't get to decide what I realize." Her fingers curled against my skin. "That's my choice. Not yours."
I was going to kiss her. I could feel it building, the pull between us too strong to resist. My free hand came up to cup her face, tilting her head back, and her lips parted in anticipation.
God, she was perfect. Full lips open and waiting for me.