AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He pointed at the side of the truck. “It’s the same as the business number. I’ll write it down for you, or you can just Google it—”
“Chris!” Michael had a clipboard in one hand now.
Chris swore under his breath and gave his brother a scathing look. “Would you give it a rest—”
“I’m supposed to lay a flagstone patio by sundown. Move.”
“I’ll go.” Becca tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced quickly at Michael. “We can talk on Monday.”
Chris shifted closer to her. “He can wait one minute.” He studied her face, and his voice dropped. “Tell me what you really came to say.”
This close, she could hear his breathing, just a little quick from the exertion. He looked good, all dirty and rugged and streaked with dust. She felt like she should move away.
Michael came around to their side of the trailer, and she felt Chris stiffen. Becca almost wanted to duck behind him. But his brother held the clipboard out to her. “Here. You want to stay? Keep count.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. “Ah ... okay. Sure.”
He didn’t even stay to explain what she was counting, just handed her the pen and walked off to grab a bag for himself. Chris followed him. The clipboard held a carbon form, with scrawled handwriting listing different products she’d never heard of. But she made out Limestone Screenings, followed by the number 18.
She hustled to count. “You need three more,” she called.
The other twin—had to be Nick—lifted his shirt to wipe his face. “How many bags of pavestone?”
And just like that, she found herself playing foreman.
They worked fast once they found a rhythm, and she did her best to keep track of what was what, especially when each brother started loading a different product. She called quantities when they asked for them, making tiny marks to keep herself straight. The labeled bags were easy, but who the hell knew the difference between flagstone and granite pavers? Or arctic slate and pavestone dividers? At first she felt awkward, especially when they were clearly looking to her for direction on what to put on the trailer.
But it felt good to have a task to occupy her mind, to do something normal.
Less than an hour later, the trailer was packed with bags and equipment, and Michael stopped in front of her, his hand out for the clipboard.
She gave it to him, ready for a snide remark.
He didn’t give her one. He just read down the list—checking her numbers, she guessed—then glanced up. “Nice work.”
Becca waited for the other shoe to drop. “Thanks?”
He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Then he pulled a twenty out of the fold and held it out to her. “No, thank you.”
She shook her head quickly. “I didn’t—you don’t have to pay me.”
“Sure I do. You worked, you get paid.”
“Take the cash!” called Gabriel. He’d found a basketball somewhere, and despite the fact that he’d been hauling eighty-pound bags for the better part of an hour, he was tossing it at the basket above the open garage door. “We’ll get a pizza.”
She blushed and faltered, surprised at the sudden camaraderie. “But—”
“Would you take the money?” Michael thrust it forward. “I’m late.”
“Fine.” She snatched it out of his fist.
He turned away to slide the clipboard onto the dash of the truck. “Come on, Nick.”
Nick was already climbing into the cab. He’d pulled a baseball hat onto his head, a red one with a logo that matched the one on the truck. “See you, Becca.”
Michael leaned out the window and looked at his brothers. “Stay out of trouble.”
Gabriel bounced the basketball off the side of the truck. Hard. “No promises.”
