Page 61 of Nailed

The darkroom morphed into the new micro construction zone. Over the next few hours I tried to make myself as useful as possible, bringing easy-to-eat snacks and water to each of the guys, helping them hold heavy beams that needed leveling, laying down heavy drop cloths and running out to get any last-minute tools from the hardware store.

When I made my lunch-time rounds, Callum took his deli sandwich from my hands with a grateful grin. “Thanks, darlin’. You’ve been keeping us going all day.”

“Only because I’m the reason you have to work this hard all day,” I replied, eying the freshly-installed red safelights.

“You say that like we’re doing you a favor. You’re the one writing the checks, in case you forgot.” Callum took a giant bite out of the sandwich and I handed him a bottle of Gatorade. “But even if you weren’t…I do genuinely believe in what you’re doing. Not just with the renovation thing, just…everything.”

“You were a big inspiration for my master plan, you know?” I said, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. The soft look of affection on his face wasn’t helping. “So in a roundabout way, you’re complimenting yourself.”

“No, ma’am. That was all you,” he said, smiling over the rim of the bottle.

A loud bang from another room brought me back down to earth faster than I would’ve liked. I looked around. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I’m good for now. I’ll let you know if anything requires your expertise,” he replied playfully.

I snorted lightly and walked out, feeling his stare until I was no longer in view.

“Have a nice little chat?” Brock called over from the saw-station just outside. He was cutting and assembling three alternating pieces of black-painted wood. I puffed up my chest and walked over.

“Here,” I said simply, handing over his lunch. He nodded toward a small empty table and I placed his sandwich and drink on it before spinning back to face him. “What’re you doing?”

“Making a Z-fold,” he said, completely focused on the task at hand. “It’s to allow fresh air to circulate while trapping light. A fact I’m sure you’ll appreciate when you’re locking yourself in here for hundreds of hours at a time.”

His tone of voice and facial expression didn’t change but if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was…teasing me? Was that something Brock Lawson was even capable of?

Maybe I was just kidding myself. I concentrated instead on what he was doing, genuinely interested. He was cutting slats and fitting them into a maze of sorts, and I could see the Z-shape he mentioned.

“How does this work exactly?” I asked.

“Basically, this box is going to allow air to pass through multiple ninety-degree angles. The black-painted interior is going to soak up light so that it can’t bounce around the corners and screw up your shots,” he said without skipping a beat.

I watched his hands and the clean lines he was working with. His attention to detail and the sheer skill required to get something like this right was impressive, even to a layperson. And honestly?

Kind of hot.

As a matter of fact, Brock had been pretty hot the entire day, barking orders in that matter-of-fact way of his. I was a fan of his work but not the effect it had on me. I thought I’d had him figured out but it seemed he wasn’t all that easy to read.

He glanced at me through the corner of his eye, his hands unceasing.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” I said quickly, needing to move out of his orbit.

“Thank you for everything you’ve been doing to help us out,” he said, turning his attention back to the maze box. “We wouldn’t be able to get this done without you.”

My mouth went dry and there was now a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow down. I nodded, walking away before I even knew where I was going. And when I realized where my feet were taking me, it was already too late and I almost collided with a still-somber Rafe.

His sullen aura was almost tangible. I knew even before opening my mouth to ask, that he wouldn’t tell me the truth and yet I tried anyway.

“Rafe?” I said.

He blinked, seemingly looking straight through me. He was carrying his sledgehammer again, probably on his way to tear through the masonry and make space for those vents Brock was working on.

“Everything okay, Lauren? Do you need something?” he asked and I couldn’t stand the distance in his voice.

I would give anything to experience his familiar snarky personality again. He was an asshole but that baseline meant he was really okay. This…this was a ghost of the man I met outside Stella’s.

My heart clenched, all of Callum’s levity and Brock’s intensity giving way to worry. “I’m good, I’m just…I just wanna check in with you. See how you’re doing now.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m sorry for my outburst the other day. I sorted my shit out, I swear. I have everything handled.”