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Walking around the side, I see all the bags lined up as they should be, the tarps still intact, even with the wind, and the pallet of cement neatly covered. I hear voices and trail around the back, instantly spotting Jordan helping carry window inserts to the trailer, one of the guys making sure they’re covered, as well.
She’s smiling. Like crazy.
Like eyes gleaming with excitement and she’s about to bounce on the balls of her feet, for crying out loud.
Is she having fun?
Her hood has fallen down, and her ponytail hangs drenched while strands of hair stick to her face. Her shoes are soaked, her jeans are muddy, and thank Christ she’s not wearing a white T-shirt, because the raincoat is doing very little to keep the
guys’ eyes off her as it is.
I look over at Dale, Bryan, and Donny who are carrying equipment to the trailer as they cast looks her way, smile, and then turn to each other, laughing at something I can’t hear.
“Hurry up,” I bark at them and they jerk to attention, carrying on.
Jordan walks over to where I stand next to the building and squats down, tucking the tarp under a beam.
“So, you’re the boss then, huh?” She looks up at me inquisitively. Something about her expression seems softer than it did earlier this morning. Happier. More at ease.
Didn’t Cole tell her I own a construction company? Does he talk about me at all?
Hurt winds its way through my gut.
“Well, he tries to be,” Dutch jokes, answering her question.
I throw him a look, but I’m tempted to smile. Bantering is our thing, but I wish the asshole wouldn’t do it at work. It undermines me, dammit.
“Shit!” Jordan suddenly exclaims.
I jerk my eyes back to her and see rainwater crashing down on her head like a waterfall. The tarp has torn away at the top of the frame and spilled all the water it had collected in its crevice. She pops up, escaping from the downpour, and reaches, trying to put it back in place.
But she can’t reach it.
Coming up behind her, I reach in front of her and grab it, holding it in place as I turn my head and jerk my chin at Dutch. He nods and walks off to retrieve the staple gun again.
Jordan lets go of the tarp and slides out from between my arms, stepping to the side and chuckling to herself.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods, wiping off her face and shaking out her jacket. “Yeah. I guess the raincoat was useless, though, huh?”
I drop my eyes to her shirt, seeing the soaked navy-blue T sticking to her body, tight and molded to every inch of her chest and stomach. A sliver of her hips and tummy peek out just below where the shirt is pasted to her. Her skin is flawless, her curves beautiful. I swallow the lump in my throat and turn quickly away.
She definitely has a body I don’t remember nineteen year olds having when I was that age, but she is still only nineteen.
And she’s Cole’s. Not mine. Don’t check her out again.
Dutch comes up and hands me the staple gun, and I start refastening the tarp. She steps back up under my outstretched arms, placing her hands underneath mine and inching in to take over holding it while I staple.
Something warm courses under my skin, but I shake it off. “Do I, uh… need to get you home?” I ask. “Don’t you have class or anything today?”
“Summer schedule,” she replies, glancing up at me. “I only have one class this term, but it’s not until tomorrow. I do have to work at the bar later, though.”
I wonder how she gets back and forth to work—or school, for that matter—since Cole starts his day at ten and doesn’t get off work until six. She has no working vehicle. Which reminds me…I’ll grab a few tools before I leave here that I don’t have at home. Maybe I can help Cole work on her VW today.
After about another hour, everything is as tight as we can make it, the equipment is secured and put away, and everyone is soaked to the bone. I let the guys take off. I hate losing time, but summers are rainy, and we’ve done what we can.
Hell, not even half of them showed up anyway.
