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I wouldn’t have counted Jamie as one of those men—not by a long shot.
“The last time we talked, you were all for Heartbreaker Trades. You said yourself you’d been wanting more women in trades for years. It’s why you hired Sarah, wasn’t it?”
“Seamus hired Sarah,” Jamie snapped.
For a moment, the room was silent. Jamie, too, grimaced.
I was just opening my mouth to tell him off when Sarah spoke first. “Jamie. I’m joining the collective. I believe in what Winona’s doing, and I believe in the importance of women on job sites. If you don’t, then I’m not sure we’re a good fit.
For a moment, Jamie looked horrified. Then he composed himself. “I don’t—“ he looked back at Cher and me, as if looking for help.
“Would it help if I reminded you about what Sarah’s involvement will be in this collective?” Cher asked, from where she sat. She looked somehow more commanding sitting down than we did standing up, with her ankle resting on her knee and hands steepled under her chin. “This innovative partnership will rely on the combined efforts…”
Bless her. As Jamie looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here, Cher rattled off the pitch we’d been giving anyone who could listen over the past year.
Sarah, meanwhile, looked close to furious tears, though when I looked at her, she gave me a grateful smile. I winked at her, but just then, my phone rang.
I was so grateful for the excuse to get some space, I didn’t even check who it was when I answered it, after brusquely excusing myself to get past Jamie.
“I can’t use my kitchen.”
My stomach did a 100-foot drop at the sound of Mitchell’s voice.
I forced my voice to be steady. “You don’t cook, remember?”
“Fine then, I can’t fuck you on my kitchen counter.”
My insides melted then, into a great big puddle of goo. I was going to get wet at work. “Don’t say things like that,” I said.
“It’s the truth. You said you like the truth.”
“I’m at work.”
“And I’m at home, where I can still smell you on my sheets.”
I groaned, leaning against the unfinished wall. A pair of guys in hardhats walked by, looking at me strangely.
“I… can’t talk,” I said, turning away from them.
“Come over,” he said.
“What, now?”
“I can’t think about anything but you. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat… I just want you, Winona.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I can do that later.”
“You know people typically sleep every night, not when it’s convenient.”
“Winona…” he growled.
“How about…” I thought about how long I could wait. When would my head be clear? “Tomorrow,” I said, before I could stop myself.
“No.”
“No?”
