Tav’s throat went dry. She was giving him that look again and, worse, he didn’t think it was on purpose. Her gaze passed over his body and her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath.

“How long were you watching me before?” he asked. His voice came out low—much too close to a groan for his liking.

“A few minutes.” Her voice had gone quiet, too. “At first, I didn’t want to bother you, but then I was peeping because you still haven’t let me do any work in here and I wanted to see what I was missing out on. I thought there’d be more banging.” Her eyes went wide and she glanced away. “With hammers. On a forge.”

Tav blinked against the image of Portia bent over his forge, that look of determination he’d glimpsed at the boot camp on her face. He had to hope that she’d be so bad at swordmaking that he’d get to kick her out of the workshop.

She grinned suddenly—this time she knew what she was doing, he could tell. The heat in her eyes was replaced by a friendly glimmer. A challenge. “Come on. People will watch the video. They’ll tell their friends to watch the videos. And then they’ll buy the fruits of your labor.”

Tav took a step closer to her, and that step was so natural that he realized he’d been holding himself away from her the entire time. He leaned in a bit, caught a hint of that scent that seemed so out of place in his workshop. “Are you saying you want me to use my sexy body to hawk my wares, Freckles?”

She held his gaze for a moment, then her head moved an inch closer to his . . . as she burst into laughter. Her forehead grazed his shoulder, and when she lifted it away, there were tears of mirth in her eyes and a smudge of metallic filings on her forehead. “Can you say that again? Please?”

Tavish crossed his arms over his chest, mostly to resist the urge to wipe the smudge away.

“Muh sexay buhdy,” she said, squaring her shoulders up in what he supposed was an imitation of him, then broke character as laughter took her again. “I’m sorry, that’s really adorable.”

He would have kicked her out if he wasn’t enjoying her uninhibited joy so much. And she had called him adorable. Not a descriptor he’d had tossed his way in recent years.

“My sexy body,” he repeated, laying the burr on thick, and was rewarded with Portia’s renewed laughter. He turned and started cleaning his workspace so she wouldn’t see the broad smile on his face.

“I’m sorry. You can make fun of my accent too if you want,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t need your permission, dude,” he replied, knowing he sounded more Valley Girl than New Yorker. “Did you need anything else?”

She shifted from one foot to the other. “You’re cool with me relaunching the site, then?”

“Do what you want, Freckles. I don’t know much about tech shite, but what you’ve made looks good, professional, and like it took a lot of work. Thank you.”

She stared at him and he shifted uncomfortably. He could be an arse, but was praise from him that off-putting?

“Thank you?” she said.

“Aye.”

“Oh! Your ludditeness reminds me. I stopped by Mary’s shop again and she had a book for you.” She pulled a small velvet sack from her shoulder bag and handed it to him.

“Mary’s catering to the hipster crowd now, is she?” he asked, running his hand over the bag.

“Oh, the bag’s mine,” Portia said. “I mean, she is trying to bring in some new business, actually. That’s what I was talking to her about. But she said it was a rare book that you’d been searching for a while, so I thought maybe it should be handled with care.”

Tavish rubbed his thumb over the book, feeling the velvety fabric covering it bristle beneath his fingertips. He could make Portia out to be a pain in the arse all he wanted, but she was a pain who had tried to do right by him so far. The least he could do was try to be cordial and act like a grown man in control of his libido.

He grabbed a tissue, reached out, and roughly swiped away the smudge from her forehead. Not exactly treating her like a delicate flower, but he didn’t want to know what her skin felt like beneath his fingertips. If he knew that, he’d have to find out more. He’d always found it hard to let go of anything his curiosity snagged on, and he was certain Portia wouldn’t be the exception to that rule.

“What—”

He turned the tissue, showing her the metal filings, and she drew the heel of her hand over where he’d swiped, looking at him with those wide eyes again.

“Thanks. For the book. And the website, and all,” he said gruffly.

She gave him a quick nod, turned on her heels, and then stopped, looking back over her shoulder. “Thanks for trusting me to do this.”

Then she was gone.

Chapter 7

[International Friend Emporium group chat]

Ledi: Portia. What is this video? I just woke up, my brain isn’t ready for all of this.

Nya: fans self I never thought I would enjoy watching a man use a power tool, but perhaps access to the Home and Garden channel here in the States has warped my brain.

Portia: that’s my boss guys

Portia: THAT’S MY BOSS

Portia:

Nya: Wait, this is the jerk you’ve been going on about for three weeks? Girrrrrrrrl. You said he was attractive, but you’ve been holding out.