Page 23 of Take The Risk

​There was so much steel in her voice that I looked her over to see if she was the same woman. And okay, I might have enjoyed another look at her hips and the way her jeans curved around her ass. There was no shifting on her feet; her hands were calm and still; her gaze focused on Harold, who was the one squirming.

​“They’re in the basement.” Harold gave in under that stare. Honestly, I felt a little sorry for him. Her focus was relentless on his face, despite her appearance of absolute calm.

​“Show me.”

​“I—” Harold looked at me.

​“Show us.” I gestured, my initial shock turning to curiosity at this new Phoebe, who was striding with purpose ahead of me, following Harold as he led us to the back of the house. I was so shocked I didn’t immediately realize that she needed a hard hat until we were almost down the basement stairs.

​“Fuck. You need a hard hat. I’ll be right back.” I raced up the stairs, expecting her to be waiting for me at the bottom where I’d left her.

​“I didn’t even know this cold room was back here.” She turned in the small cold storage room, head tilted up when I came back down.

​“Ma’am,” Harold pleaded. “We should wait at the stairs for Ty to get you a hard hat. It’s not safe without one.”

​“Phoebe,” she corrected him. “And I’m what? Fifteen feet from the stairs? If the house comes down, I doubt that will make much of a difference.”

​“It can make a huge fucking difference.” I stomped over to where she was. “Put this on,” I ordered, then put it on her myself, careful not to push it down too hard or catch her hair that was in a ponytail. “Is there a reason you didn’t listen to me?”

​Jesus, what was wrong with her?

​“Thanks,” she muttered, presumably for the hard hat, only to turn away from me, walking to corner where I saw a large brick was removed. “Did you touch this?”

​“Only to pull the package a bit until I saw what it was,” Harold answered.

​“Phoebe.” I ran a hand down my face. “You can’t just walk around the house without a hard hat. Next time, you need to stay where I tell you.”

​Waving me off, she muttered, “Sure. Whatever.”

​Sure? Whatever? “Are you listening? This is serious.”

​“There’s no dust in here.” She frowned, peering as best she could into the hole. “We need to call the police. No one should touch anything until they come out here.” She continued surveying everything else in here, which wasn’t a lot. A large cement post in the middle of the room, some old wooden shelves that were barely hanging onto the wall, and a broom that had seen better days.

​“There’s no need to call the police.” I reached for the walkie on my belt.

​Green eyes narrowed on me. “Um…yes, there is. If these are drugs, they need to be collected and—actually, we should all leave. We’ve already contaminated the scene enough. But I’m calling the police.” She patted her hips and her back. “Damn it, my phone is outside.”

​“Hold on there.” I caught her arm, more than intrigued by this turn in her personality. Where was the shifty, anxious woman I’d seen all week?

​Maybe not all week. Flashes of her staring down her ex yesterday came to mind. Along with the way she stood her ground with Lachlan.

​“Is there a reason you don’t want to call the police?” She rounded on me.

​I tried not to smile. Ferocious thing, I thought. “We don’t have to call them. A cop is already here,” I reminded her, pulling my walkie and radioing for Wade.

​Her mouth fell open, and I bit my tongue. Laughing at a woman under these circumstances was a good way to die. Between my mother, Aunt Louise, and Aunt Helen, I knew when the time not to laugh at a woman was. This was it.

​Her cheeks turned that shade of pink I really liked, the color deepening when she glanced at Harold out of the corner of her eye. Harold, like me, kept his mouth shut. He had a wife and five sisters. I’d almost feel bad for her embarrassment, but I really did like the darker almost dusty rose—yes, I knew my colors; I was a contractor—shade. It made the slight gray swirls around her pupils stand out.

​I saw her hand twitch and decided to distract her before what I suspected was a serious amount of anxiety took her back over. “You never answered me.”

​Her eyebrows flew up. “About what? I haven’t decided on the back patio, but I think I agree with the circular one you suggested.”

​The one that would take an extra week of time to do, something I wasn’t so upset about. “Not that. About the hard hat.”

​“It’s on my head? What’s there to answer?” She frowned and I couldn’t think of another way to describe it other than “adorably.” Fuck, she was adorable, even as she was hot as hell. This woman messed me up something fierce. Usually, I either found a woman hot or not. Period. No in-between. If a woman was adorable, it was because I was related to her, but here Phoebe was adorably sexy, and she wasn’t even trying to be.

​Maybe I did need to get laid after all, as Wade suggested.