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“Have you called to confirm the builder’s risk insurance is active?”
“I did that yesterday,” he replies, easy breezy.
“What about dumpsters? We’ll be starting demo first thing on Tuesday.”
“They’re being delivered Monday. I’ll be there to make sure they’re in the right spots.”
“Excavators?”
“Already on site.”
I narrow my eyes.
He turns and smiles.
Hudson’s only a few years out of college and nearly as annoying as he is helpful. We didn’t even have a job listing posted when he walked into the Lockwood Construction office and asked to speak with one of the partners. Of course, that didn’t happen—we’re busy guys—so he came back the next day…and the next. In the end, I had no choice but to give him an internship, which he quickly finagled into a full-time position.
“Wait, wait, wait.” He starts laughing, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes to get a better look at whatever’s caught his attention.
I pound away loudly on my laptop, hoping to get the message through his thick brain: Stop bothering me.
“Holy shit. Either that’s the hottest dude I’ve ever seen or it’s not a dude at all.”
I frown, stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I stand up and go over to look at the person he’s referring to, he’ll have been successful in distracting me. If I don’t look, my curiosity will eat away at me.
With a reluctant sigh, I push up to stand and make my way over to the window.
“There. You see him?”
I see a sea of recruits, none all that noteworthy.
“There, in the blue baseball hat.” Hudson points. “Hold on, wait until he turns.”
I spot the guy, but he’s facing the opposite direction, glancing back down the line behind him. Even still, I can tell he’s a pipsqueak, basically half the size of his peers. It doesn’t help that his clothes are four sizes too big.
I wouldn’t be surprised to find out it’s a kid trying to pass himself off as legal. We’ve had that happen a few times in the past, but at the least those guys looked eighteen. This kid hasn’t even gone through puberty yet from the looks of it.
The guy finally turns when the line shifts forward and his buddy nudges him. He lifts his head, the brim of his hat no longer hiding his face, and right then, a fist collides with my stomach.
I know those eyes.
I know those lips.
I know that face.
I. Know. That. Face.
The shock leaves me completely immobile. Then, just as quickly, adrenaline seizes hold of me. My blood pressure skyrockets. My heart starts racing. I can barely believe it. I never thought I’d see the girl again and now here she is, in line to get a job working for my company…pretending to be a guy. Oh, it’s too good.
“See what I mean?” Hudson asks. “There’s no way that’s a dude.”
My brain is working overtime, trying to figure out what I want to do with this gift. Yes, gift. In the month since I first encountered her, I’ve been unable to push her out of my mind. My inability to forget about her has only made the wound she inflicted on my ego fester. I don’t know why she’s proven unforgettable. Sure, there’s the possibility that our searing kiss in the bathroom left its mark on my memory, but more likely, my pride wants some kind of resolution.
“Look at those lips.” Hudson is still talking. “No, I refuse to believe that’s a guy, because if it is…” He scratches his neck. “Well, I guess I might be into dudes. Who knew?”
Without a reply, I forcefully push him toward the door of the trailer.
“I want you to make sure that guy gets hired.”
He trips over his feet trying to match my pace.
“Why?” He turns back to look at me. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I open the door and move to shove him out, but he leaps down the first few stairs just in time to avoid my “gentle” nudge, which is for the best. I’m not trying to hurt him. Much.
“Go.”
He holds up his hands in defeat. “Okay! Okay!”
And then he’s out the door and I’m back at the window watching the girl in the blue baseball hat sitting at a table with a recruiter. Hudson rushes over to whisper something in his ear and just like that, she’s hired.
I know I’m not handling the situation the right way. I should drag her down to the police station and report her crime, let the authorities take care of her—I’m sure she’s wanted for a multitude of other offenses—but something about that course of action doesn’t feel right. Maybe I want to handle my own problems. Maybe I like the idea of toying with her a little, teaching her a lesson. Maybe my pride has finally found a way to seek resolution in the form of retribution.
