The Best Part of Me by Jamie Hollins Read Free Book Online

“I guess I woke up on the right side of the bed this morning.”
    He’d probably gotten laid or something. Well, thank heavens for small favors. Whoever he’d bedded down with last night had really taken one for the team.
    I’m sure he made it worth her while…
    Quinn shook the thought out of her head. “Oh, wait, let me guess. If you don’t help me and I end up smashing my hand between two of these immensely heavy posts, I wouldn’t be able to wrap my hand around a pint of beer and spend my money in your pub?”
    He walked toward her, looking all indifferently perfect. When he stopped in front of her, she had to tilt her head pretty far back to maintain eye contact. He practically blocked out the sun.
    â€œYou could always use a straw.”
    She blinked in surprise. “Did you just make a joke ?”
    The corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. She wouldn’t call it a smile, but it was getting closer to a real human emotion resembling amusement. She couldn’t help herself; she started to laugh. Maybe it was the heat or the fact that her body was defying physics by still remaining upright, but she got the distinct impression he was extending an olive branch.
    She meant to toss her empty water bottle into the cooler, but her twitching and spent arm muscles refused to cooperate. The bottle missed by a mile.
    â€œReally, Ewan,” she started as she bent down to grab the next post. “I got this—”
    A pair of big hands beat her to it. Ewan hefted the post over his shoulder and carried it to the next hole. Quinn wanted to say something. She really did. But she didn’t even care at that point, because it meant she wouldn’t have to move those last boards herself.
    She stood next to the woodpile, watching him go back and forth. If sex were a living thing with arms and legs, if it could breathe, eat, and talk, then it surely would look like Ewan McKenna.
    Quinn had never seen anything quite so wonderful as Ewan strolling across the yard doing manual labor. She was seeing everything in slow motion, the way he lifted each piece of wood as if it weighed nothing at all. Every time he turned around from dropping a post in place, he would wipe his big, strong hands on his faded jeans that hugged his toned thighs. He had defined muscles in all the right places. The flat plane of his chest showed clearly through his thin white T-shirt. His shoulders were broad and strong, and every time he reached down to pick up another post, the short sleeves of his shirt would ride up to reveal his straining biceps.
    But his butt—oh, God, his butt—was his pièce de résistance.
    It really wasn’t fair. She was completely depleted, drained of all energy, and her mental commentary of Ewan’s picture-perfect body was not helping her catch her breath.
    â€œWhat’s next?”
    Quinn snapped out of her trance in time to see Ewan standing before her with his hands on his hips. He wasn’t even sweating. Giving in to defeat, she exhaled slowly. “We have to pour cement into the holes so we can set the posts.”
    Ewan nodded and grabbed one of the bags of cement mix and dumped it in a nearby bucket Quinn had dragged out from the garden shed. Quinn used the hose to fill the bucket once Ewan had poured out half the bag. She picked up the handheld cement mixer she’d rented from the supply store. Ewan took it from her shaking hands and mixed the cement himself.
    â€œYou seem to know what you’re doing. Have you done anything like this before?” she asked over the loud hum of the power mixer.
    â€œI’ve poured cement before if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ve never built a pergola.”
    She nodded slowly, watching as he mixed the cement.
    Moving quickly and efficiently, he placed the first post in the hole and used a level to make sure it was exactly vertical.
    â€œCan you hold this post?” he asked