The next few days blurred together. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jake. Every evening after dinner I found excuses to be outside — watering the flowers again, pretending to read on the porch, anything just to see him. And he was always there, working in his garage, shirt off, muscles shining with sweat.
We started talking more. Short conversations at first. He’d wave me over and ask about my day, about college, about why a pretty girl like me didn’t have a boyfriend. His deep voice and easy smile made my knees feel weak every time.
“You’re really innocent, aren’t you, Daisy?” he teased one evening. He was leaning against his garage door, wiping grease from his hands. His eyes moved slowly down my body, over my tight tank top and little denim shorts. “Never seen a girl blush so easily.”
