Page 18 of Show Me

I step back. Fast enough that it doesn’t look like I’m thinking about it. Even though I am. “Right there.”

She clears her throat, drawing the line herself this time. “Got it.”

I force my attention back to the wall. Structure. Framing. Load-bearing walls. Anything that makes more sense than standing in her kitchen noticing the way she didn’t pull away.

Or the fact that I didn’t either.

A set of headlights sweeps across the front window. She stills. Light cuts across the yard, slows, then disappears past the house. The vehicle pulls to a stop, turns into the nearby dead-end, and comes back the way it came.

“Don’t get much traffic out here.” She frowns. Her house sits at the end of the road. Although she has neighbors on her right and across the street, to her left is a pasture opening, and nothing else.

“No. I don’t suppose you do.”

She’s already turned back to the wall, pencil tapping lightly against the drywall like she’s trying to shake something off.

“Go ahead. Your turn.” Now that I’m sure she’s not going to have the ceiling cave down on top of her head, I’m willing to let her take over. I pass the reciprocating saw to her.

She lifts the blade this time instead of the pencil. Careful. Controlled. Exactly how I told her. The first cut is small. Clean. “Like that?”

“Yeah.” Exactly like that.

When I walked in the door, she had no idea what she was doing, but Ruby is proving to be a fast learner.

Chapter Nine

Ruby

The cut is clean, which means I did it right. Which also means I should be focused on that.

I drag the blade a little slower this time, cutting the drywall the way he showed me. Controlled. Careful.

Normal. Just be normal.

“Like this?” I feel him watching me.

“Yeah.” Short. Simple. Like nothing happened. He takes another step back, putting more distance between us.

Good. That’s what this is supposed to be because nothing did happen.

I press a little deeper on the second pass, focusing on the resistance of the wall, the sound of the blade catching enough to bite through the surface.

Work. That’s what this is. Not… whatever I thought it was for half a second. I’m an idiot. I adjust my weight. The cut is clean.. “Okay. So I keep going?”

“Slow. You don’t need to rush it.” His voice holds an edge of something I can’t quite place. I block both the low rumble and the scent of his cologne from my consciousness.

“I’m not rushing.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You’re pushing.”

God, how did I ever not notice how bossy he is? Or how well he calls me on my bullshit. “That’s different.”

“It’s not.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no heat behind it. Just habit. Easier to lean into that than…. Anything else.

After scoring the next section, I set the blade down and brushed drywall dust off my hands. It clings to my skin, settling into the creases of my fingers.

“You want to check it?”