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“Maybe I should get a little hipper to pop culture? Find out who this tech guy is and see if I can get his number.”
A weird current runs through my chest, but I ignore it. She’s really funny. I’m almost positive she’s joking.
Why does it matter if she’s joking? a little voice in my head asks annoyingly. I ignore it completely, concentrating on pulling the truck over to the side of the boom truck we have on-site from setting trusses this morning.
Holley looks around with unconcealed curiosity. It’s evident she’s never seen any of this stuff up close before.
Once I come to a stop, I put the truck in park and shut off the engine, but I don’t make a move to get out just yet. Instead, I reach into the back seat for some of the props I thought it would be fun to bring along. A safety vest, a hard hat, and big, heavy-duty gloves to complete the ensemble.
One by one, I move the items from the back floorboard to Holley’s lap. She becomes increasingly alarmed with each addition.
“Uh…what is all this stuff?”
“It’s for you,” I reply. “I thought that was obvious.”
“Okay, then. But why do I need it?”
“For the jobsite,” I say with a jerk of my chin. “There might be stuff falling or debris in unexpected places, and with your limited experience around it, this gear will help ensure your safety.”
She shakes her head, her eyebrows drawing together. “I don’t know if you were planning on getting some free labor out of me for the day or what, but Holley Fields isn’t the type of woman who wields a hammer.”
I grin. I can’t help it. The innuendo is just too much to ignore. “No?” I ask, disappointment in my inflection.
“Nope.”
“You’ve never…wielded a hammer before?” I push further.
“Sure.” She scrunches up her nose, visibly annoyed with my question. “When I was younger, my dad used to make me help with stuff.”
I have the sudden urge to cover my ears because, wow, my play on her words has taken a turn for the unfortunate. Unable to stop myself, I cringe.
“What?” she asks. “What did I say?”
I shake my head. I don’t need to relive it.
“Nothing.”
“Jake! Come on, I obviously said something.”
“It’s nothing. Really. I just thought you’d pick up on my pun-play with the phrase wielding a hammer, and you definitely did not. You really did not, and yeah…your father. Helping him.” I pretend to throw up.
“Oh geez!” she snaps, finally understanding. “Why are men such children?”
I shrug. “I think it’s biology.”
“It must be,” she grumbles. “Because you’re all like this.”
“Oh yeah? How many man-children have you known?”
Her face shutters for a moment before she turns to look out the window. “Enough. Trust me.”
It seems to kill the mood—I’m not sure why—but I am at least mature enough to pick up on the fact that teasing time has ended. It’s time to be kind and supportive and act…well…grown.
“Come on,” I say cheerfully, hoping I can distract her from whatever’s crept inside her head now. “You really don’t have to wear that stuff…except the hard hat. Something really could fall from one of the rafters, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I could just watch you from here,” she suggests, thankfully back to her playful self.
“No way, Holley from the Tribune.” I shake my head slowly to punctuate my words. “You asked for the whole shebang. The Jake Brent Experience. And it’s nowhere near complete without a little on-site blabbering between me and my guys. So, let’s go.”
Without waiting for her to come up with another excuse, I hop out of the driver’s seat and onto the gravel drive. It crunches beneath my booted feet as I turn to shut the door and round the hood to meet her on the passenger side.
She’s still trying to determine how to get down when I get there, but this time, I don’t wait for her to figure it out. I reach up into the cab, grab her by the hips—a move that makes her gasp—and lower her gently to the ground.
I’ve known she’s much shorter than me—about a foot, actually—but from this proximity, it’s even more obvious.
“Uh, thanks,” she says, and I smile.
I reach over her shoulder and up into the cab, grab the hard hat, and set it down gently on her head, knocking the top when it’s in position. “There. All set.”
I pull her away from the door with an easy hand at her elbow and shut it behind her. Her jade-green eyes sparkle in the sun as she stares at my head. “Where’s yours?”
“My head could stand to have a couple things dropped on it,” I mock myself. She laughs but frowns a little, too, at the thought of me getting hurt. And I can’t deny it’s a nice feeling, her caring about me, even though I didn’t expect to feel it.
