“No, not really,” I say, deadpan. “I don’t see why you should be, either. It’s none of our business.”
“Jesus, Ethan,” Ben exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re no fun.”
I shoot him a stern look. “Tell me something that’s actually funny, and maybe I’ll laugh.”
The guys finally take the hint that I’m not biting at their pathetic attempts to exchange petty gossip. After another minute of hemming and hawing, they shake their heads and give a few dismissive hand gestures before leaving. I hope that will bethe end of it, but the growing knot in my stomach tells me that’s not likely. With a heavy sigh, I drop my shoulders and turn back to start my work.
Poor Luke, I think.Hasn’t even been here one day, and shit’s already a mess.
When Luke eventually shows up, it’s noticeable.
Despite telling myself I won’t add to the fuss, I can’t help but glance up when the shop noise dies down to the hum of the machines, and my eyes snap to the point of attention. I don’t know what Luke Shaw looks like, but it’s clear from the wayeveryoneis staring at him that this has to be the guy.
Every intention I had of ignoring him flies out of the window the moment I actually see him. Even in my wildest imagination, I wasn’t expecting the man to look likethat.Nothing could have prepared me for the experience.
The first thing anyone would notice is his height because,dear-fucking-lord, he’s tall. I’m by no means short at 6’2”, but he’s even got me beat by a few solid inches, towering over everyone in the shop like a California redwood. He’s not gangly or overly skinny for all his height, and his movements are graceful and poised. Every step he takes looks purposeful yet fluid, almost like he’s dancing.
Vertical endowments aside, he’s also the goddamn model of a Greek statue. I mean, Jesus Christ—did he win the genetic lottery, or what? I didn’t know men could be so…beautiful.An odd thought, but that’s the only word apt to describe him. He’s only wearing a plain black tee, but it clearly defines his tight chest under a Carhartt jacket, adding to my theory that he was carved from stone. With a full head of golden, sandy-coloredhair and a sharp jawline, I’m wondering why he’s working at a machine shop instead of walking the runway of fashion week.
It's clear Luke is aware of the attention. His face is a little flushed, but he’s keeping his head high as the foreman leads him through the shop to the empty station he’ll be taking over. The station that just so happens to be next to mine.
Oh, fuck. That meansI’mgoing to have to talk to him, aren’t I? God damn it. I had hoped to be as far away from this drama as possible, but now it looks like I’m getting a front-row seat.
I don’t realize I’m frozen like a statue with my jaw practically hitting the floor until Luke turns his head as he walks by and double-takes, meeting my eye directly with the most piercing gaze I’ve ever seen. His eyes shine like pale sapphires, and the intensity of his stare throws me off guard. Suddenly, it feels like I’ve been zapped by electricity, and my heart skips a beat. Is that healthy? That doesn’t seem healthy. Am I dying?
Then I realize I’mstillstaring at him when he gives me an odd look, his lips quirking up into a half-smile, and I instantly snap my head back to my bench. Although I tryreallyhard not to glance back at him, I fail miserably, and he catches me doing it. He chuckles, a peculiar gleam in his eye, and I feel my grin before I realize it’s happening. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
The foreman, Mike, seems to catch on that we’ve had a friendly interaction because he suddenly drags Luke over to my station with relief, while Luke’s eyes widen in shock.
“Luke, I want you to meet Ethan Carlson,” Mike says, clapping Luke on the back like they’re good friends, but the height difference makes it look clumsy. Mike barely passes for 5’7”. “Ethan, this is Luke Shaw, a new operator. I’ll pass him off to you if he has any questions, since you’ll be working together. Okay? Great.”
With that, Mike appears to think his job of showing the newbie around is done. I gape at him dumbly, stuttering out a weakprotest, but before I can actually respond, he turns and walks away quickly, rubbing his hands on his jeans like he’d gotten them dirty. I try not to read too much into that, though it’s hard not to.
Luke stands there, looking slightly flustered about how that went down. Despite our pleasant exchange, it’s a little awkward between us. I wasn’t prepared to be volunteered against my will to mentor the new guy, and I have no idea where to start. I’m sure Luke feels out of place, too. Who could blame him? He was thrown to the wolves without a second thought, and I’m probably the worst candidate to make him feel at ease. I’m shit at making conversation with strangers, more comfortable remaining silent whenever I can help it.
Sighing to myself, I turn to face Luke fully. He’s got a wary look on his face, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, but there’s a fierceness in his posture that makes me think he’s trying very hard to remain unbothered. Knowing what kind of crap he’ll likely face from this place going forward, I don’t need to add to it by coming off as rude becauseI’mnot much of a people person. I can try to be more approachable for his sake.
“Hey, man.” I hold out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Luke looks at it hesitantly before taking it into his own, nodding his head. His grip is surprisingly firm, and his skin is so soft and warm that I’m instantly aware of the many calluses on my hand—enough so that I can’t help but rub my fingers against them self-consciously as we let go of each other.
“So,” I toss out, unsure what else to say. I’m not very good at small talk—never have been. I grasp at the only thing I can think of. “I heard you recently moved back here from New York?”
Something about what I said seems to have a strange effect on Luke, and he visibly tenses. The warm smile he wore a minute ago goes cold, and he looks away with annoyance. “Yup,” he replies shortly, letting the ‘p’ sound pop at the end.
“Oh. Cool.” I laugh, rubbing a hand at the back of my neck.Great job, Ethan. You’ve offended him somehow.“So, do you have any experience as a machinist?”
Luke doesn’t answer. He simply gives me a quick up-and-down look from the corner of his eye before turning and heading back to his station, leaving me standing there looking like an idiot.
Wow.Okay. So Luke Shaw is kind of a dick, huh?
I’m confused, but as I go over it again, I’m not entirely sure where the conversation went wrong. I know I’m awkward as hell, but I can’t have fucked up that badly when I barely said more than five words to the guy. Whatever I did, Luke obviously isn’t interested in extrapolating on it.
After a moment, I shake my head and go back to work as if nothing weird just happened. I only spare him another glance to see him set up his station like he’s been doing this kind of thing all his life. Well, at least that answers my question.
When lunch rolls around, I slink off to my secret spot in an old upstairs storage room where I can read without being disturbed. It’s been my habit for the last fifteen years of working here, and by now, the rest of the guys are too used to it to question where I go or what I’m doing.
No one honestly cares enough to pry, but the number of stupid guesses I have heard over the years about what I do on my lunches has always kept me entertained—from the tamest, “Ethan’s getting his beauty sleep,” to the lewdest, “he’s jacking off.” They couldn’t be further from the truth, but let’s be honest. Reading never seemed to be a popular pastime in these parts. I have to drive four towns over for the closest bookstore! It’s ridiculous.
