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“A great way to pull a back muscle and land yourself on worker’s comp is swinging this baby wrong.” He grips the sledgehammer with both hands. I don’t have much (any) experience with sledgehammers, but I’m guessing it weighs more than he’s making it look. He’s handling it as if it’s a bamboo fishing pole. His voice dips into an almost seductive husk. “The trick, Ms. Vandemark, is to let her do all the work.”
The seduction leaves his voice in a snap when he gruffly adds, “Here’s your fucking proof, lady.”
He swings, aiming for the center of a panel of fresh drywall. A chunk of it hits the floor, dust exploding overhead like a magician’s trick. He swings again as I back away from the destruction. His form is fluid, the next blow as smooth as warm butter. Each hard hit widens the jagged hole. He doesn’t stop until he’s exposed every stud and the bundles of neatly affixed wires attached to some of them.
I’m impressed and horrified. Delighted and flummoxed. I’m not sure how to react to his display. Is he throwing a tantrum? Does he have a mean streak a mile wide? Or is he caught in a lie and trying to cover for it?
The commotion draws attention. Faces appear in the windows and the open door. A few low laughs and swearwords of praise trickle into the office as the dust literally settles. Settles into Nate’s hair, making it appear a lighter shade of blond. Settles onto my shirt and the metal clipboard I’m cradling. It’s blown into a pattern like desert sand by the fan whirring away in the corner.
Owen swipes his brow with one forearm, watching me closely. A blip of concern puckers his brow, like he’s worried he might’ve frightened me.
Sorry, buddy. I’m schooled in keeping my expression neutral.
“I’m not certified,” I inform him calmly.
His face pinches. “What?”
I gesture to the gaping hole in the formerly pristine wall. “I’m not certified to approve the wiring. I don’t know what any of those are for. That could be a gleaming example of the finest electrical wiring on the planet, or a fire hazard of the worst degree. Again, I reiterate, you went forward without a permit. I’ll have to shut you down.”
His face droops in suspended disbelief.
“Excuse me.” I push my way through the onlookers and leave the building. My shaking arms betray my calm, cool exterior. I felt a rush when he took out that wall… Not fear. I’m not afraid.
What I feel is more potent, and far more dangerous. Unadulterated excitement with more than a rush of attraction.
Damn. That’s inconvenient.
