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What an ass**le. “Maybe if you weren’t—”
“Becca.” Chris was carrying a bag of the same stuff out of the garage. “Just ignore him.”
He flung the bag on top of the pile, then jumped off the trailer to come over to her. His tee shirt was black, and dust streaked across the front of his chest. Sweat had collected on his forehead, and he ducked his head to wipe it on his sleeve.
He seemed wary; that vague tension they’d shared last night still hung between them. “What’s up?”
“I just—” She faltered. One of the twins was carrying another bag to the flatbed. He barely gave her a nod. They looked tired—and those bags looked heavy.
They were busy.
All at once, she wanted to slink back to her car. Someone had just painted a star in a circle on her door. Tyler had a gun, and had demonstrated he wasn’t afraid to use it—would he really stoop to something like teenage pranks to intimidate her? Maybe it was just like her dad said, some stupid kid being stupid. It wasn’t as if pentagrams were unique to Elementals.
“You’re busy,” she backpedaled. “I shouldn’t have just shown up like this—”
“It’s all right.” Chris moved closer, until she caught his scent, like sunshine and limestone.
“Chris.” Michael had another bag, and he added it to the stack. “Less talk. More work.”
A spark of irritation lit Chris’s features, but he turned toward the garage. “Come on. Talk to me while I load. He’s just pissed because he’s already late.”
Becca followed him into the cool cavern of the garage. He picked up a bag from the stack and heaved it onto his shoulder.
This felt awkward. “Can I help you? Or—”
“Go ahead.” He flashed a smile. “Bring one out.”
She bent and slid her hands under the slick edges of the sack. It felt like a bag of sand, and it was marked 35KG. She could never remember if kilograms were more than pounds or the other way around, but she crouched and heaved and attempted to lift the sack of limestone.
Christ. It’s more. Kilograms are more. The bag had to weigh at least eighty pounds. She couldn’t even get it off the pallet.
“Excuse me.”
One of the twins, his voice threaded with humor. She stepped back, already sensing sweat on her back, just from that moment of effort. She felt like an idiot.
Especially when he hooked his hands under two bags and lifted them against his chest.
“Showoff,” she said.
He shook the hair off his forehead. “Maybe you could go in the kitchen and bake us some cookies or something.”
“Shut up.”
He gave her a wicked grin over his shoulder. “Just saying.”
Then Chris was back, grabbing another bag for himself. “Come on. Gabriel will rag on you all day if you let him.”
How does he tell them apart?
He let her walk in silence until he dumped his bag. Then he stood on the side of the flatbed and looked down at her.
“Becca?”
She had to give him some reason for being here. “I ... ah ... thought we should talk about the project.”
His brow furrowed. “For History?”
Yeah, it sounded lame to her, too. “I didn’t have your number, so I thought maybe—”
