Page 114 of Show Me

I stride toward the back, checking the tool rack out of habit: levels, drills, bits, everything where it should be. No more missing tape measures or wrenches. Good. Control what you can.

The front door opens behind me. Too early for most of the crew. I don’t turn right away. Footsteps, lighter than Travis, slower than the guys who usually come in first. Not who I expected.

“Morning,” Lindsey says.

Perfect. I close the toolbox, straighten, and turn.

She’s leaning inside the doorway as if she belongs there, hair pulled back, jacket half-zipped, that same easy expression like nothing’s changed between us.

“Morning.” Keep it neutral.

She steps further in, letting the door swing shut behind her. “Didn’t think you’d be here this early.”

“More storm damage.” I roll my shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension that’s wedged there. “We’ve got a backlog.”

“Travis mentioned.” She glances around the shop, then back at me. “My supplies in?”

“Yeah.” I pick up the mug again, more for something to do than anything else. “We’ll get to it when we can.”

She nods, slow, like she’s not in a hurry. “You always say that.”

“We always mean it.”

That earns a small smile. She closes the distance without asking, stopping a little too close to be casual. Close enough I smell her perfume under the damp air from outside.

Used not to bother me. Now it does.

“You look tired.”

“Long night.”

“Yeah?” Her brow lifts enough to make it a question without saying it outright. I take another drink of coffee instead of answering.

She watches me, then reaches out, fingers brushing my forearm like it’s automatic. Familiar. Easy. I go still. Not because I want to. Because I don’t.

My arm shifts before I think about it, enough that her hand slides off without me having to make a thing out of it. Her eyes catch the movement. Not offended. Not yet. Just… noticing.

“We’ve all been busy.” Her tone is lighter now, but there’s something under it. “Not just with work, apparently.”

I don’t respond. Don’t take the bait.

She tilts her head, studying me. “Small town,” she adds. “People notice things.”

Of course they do.

“People talk,” she goes on, casual enough to make it sound like nothing. “You and Ruby–”

“Don’t.” It comes out sharper than I intend. Louder than anything else I’ve said since she walked in. The word lands between us, hard and immediate. Her expression stills.

I don’t give her time to fill the silence. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I add, lower now, controlled again but no less final. “So don’t.”

She studies me, not hurt, not exactly—more like recalculating her strategy. “Okay,” she says after a beat, holding her hands up. “Didn’t realize it was that serious.”

It’s not. It shouldn’t be. That’s the problem.

I drag a hand through my hair, turning away before I say anything else that digs the hole deeper. “We’ve got a lot to get through today.” I’m already moving back toward the workbench. “If you need anything, talk to Travis.”

Clear. Professional. Done. I don’t look at her again. Don’t give her anything else to read.