Alexa's heartbeat thudded harder with each imagined touch, each fleeting brush of his fingers.
She had never admitted it before, but being this close, watching him work, feeling the heat of his body so near—it was electrifying.
The minutes stretched into an hour.
The soft click of screws being tightened and the muted scrape of tools against the wood filled the room.
Outside, the house remained quiet, the only witnesses the shadows and the soft hum of the evening.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Their focus was on the cabinet, yet neither could ignore the subtle, unspoken tension that had built between them.
Ross finally paused and looked at her.
"Hold it a little to the left… perfect," he said, his voice low, smooth, almost hypnotic.
Alexa's hands moved instinctively, her fingers brushing against his as she adjusted the flashlight.
A small jolt of awareness ran through her, and she swallowed, trying to steady her racing heartbeat.
