Page 19 of Nailed

“Are you okay?”

Was I ever.

Unlike Rafe, who felt like a solid mountain of muscle and raw, challenging strength, Callum's was functional and fluid, the sort of power that came with a lifetime of moving with purpose.

I could feel his body heat radiate through his soft, cotton shirt, and the steady thrum of his heart as he held me against him. He smelled like sandalwood and clean laundry, the scent lingering in my lungs as I gasped for air, still breathless with shock and adrenaline.

The collection of Callum painted a warm and cozy picture, one I wanted to voluntarily lose myself in. And unlike with Rafe, who set my heart hammering, it fluttered with Callum.

It was such a different experience, but one no less effective.

When his golden brows knit together, I realized I hadn't actually given him an answer. Why, oh why did his sweetness have to reduce my brain function to the speed of drying paint?

“Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for catching me,” I said, finally getting myself together.

“No problem,” he replied, setting me down as gently as though I were made of glass. His ears turned red again, and I could feel my own face heat up as though I was back in high school. He cleared his throat and went back to his work with a smile on his face.

There was a sharp, metallic clang from above and our heads shot up.

“What was that?” Callum asked.

“Nothing. Just dropped my pliers.” Brock's voice sounded just a touch more gravelly than usual, and I immediately filed that little piece of information. It wasn't exactly in character for him to appear rattled or flustered.

Which was interesting.

I was just starting to turn over the possibilities in my head when I caught Rafe's eye. I knew that look—the tightening jaw and steely eyes that held a storm cloud behind them. The moment he realized I'd caught him, he dropped the indifferent mask back over his face and continued with his task but I saw it. That flash of pure jealousy.

“Everything alright down there, Lauren?” asked Brock. “Or are you gonna sit this one out?”

I fought the little grin that wanted to surface and instead picked up the chirper again.

“No, I'm okay now. I wanna finish the job.”

It didn't take me too long to help Brock sort through the rest of the wires. He was now onto a solo project that he cryptically referred to as “pulling home runs.”

“It's just running cables from the kitchen ceiling to the main breaker panel,” Callum explained to me.

“Yeah. He just likes making things sound more impressive than they are,” Rafe said quietly, half to himself.

Brock's head popped down through the hatch. “The acoustics are like a hollow drum in this place, you jackass.”

Then he disappeared again and Callum and I laughed quietly at Rafe as he continued muttering half syllables at a whisper volume.

“You can help me line the cabinet doors, Miss Lauren. I need a spotter,” Callum said, waving me over.

I happily joined him around the island as he quickly explained what my new job was going to be.

While he worked on the inside of the cupboard, adjusting the hidden hinges, I stood on the outside to ensure it was level and gap-free.

Once we were certain we got it right, he called me over to check for myself. I knelt down next to him.

“You need to make sure that the edge of the door is flush,” he explained. Then he did something that surprised me completely. He gently took my hand in his and guided it to the seam, letting my fingers trace along the edge to feel for any gaps.

My heart fluttered again in my chest just as it had when he caught me earlier. His fingers were warm on mine, pleasantly calloused and strong and lithe.

“Good?” he asked.

I blinked away the fuzziness in my brain and averted my gaze from those pretty eyes of his. Did this guy even know what he was doing?