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“The wood speaks to me.” He runs his hand over his shaved head. “Can’t thank you enough for doing the drywalling in the gallery.”
“When did you fit that in?” Javier asks, looking pointedly at the smudges under my eyes.
“When I had time,” I say vaguely. Early mornings before I even hit the gym.
“Cal!” Sue-Ann Hinkley, the cute server from the Barrel, flutters her fingers at me. “I have some reno work needed at home, if you have time.”
“Don’t think I can fit it in right now. I’ll keep it in mind for future.”
“Whenever is good.” Her fair skin is either sunburned or she’s blushing up a storm. She leans toward Simone and Ben’s girlfriend, Kiyana, the three of them whispering and laughing together.
“Hello, Callahan.” Ms. Osorio, formerly Principal Osorio, stops in front of us and does this weird eyelash-batting thing. “When you’re free, I could use my kitchen repainted. Day or night. I’m ready when you are.”
She walks off with a hip sway that has me wanting to cover my eyes. Mrs. Cho, who just celebrated her ninety-fifth birthday with a cake at Delilah’s coffee shop, leans on her walker and waves at me. Then she winks.
“What’s going on?” I ask, exceedingly uncomfortable.
Javier purses his lips and shakes his head. “Told you taking off your shirt was a mistake.”
“How does everyone know I took off my shirt?”
Ben cocks his head at me. “This is Windfall, man. Everyone knows everything. Now all the ladies in town want you working in their homes.”
“But the only people there were Javier and Simone.” As ravenous for gossip as this town is, even I’m surprised by this level of rumor-spreading.
Ben huffs. “Simone is your weak link. She called Kiyana and told her you were at Javier’s and ripped off your shirt with one hand, right down the middle, like some kind of sexy non-green hulk. Now she wants me to reenact the move. So, fuck you very much.”
“The bar,” Javier says, shaking his head as they strut away from me. “Lower the goddamn bar for the rest of us.”
More women send flirty smiles my way. I attempt to hunch and make myself less visible—not easy at six-foot-two. I beeline for the gallery, hoping fewer gossip hens are inside. The interior is bustling with volunteers. Artwork is being rehung and supplies set up for the store’s reopening, everyone chatting and smiling as they work.
Unfortunately, E and Lennon are here with Delilah and Maggie, the group of them putting together the pamphlet display—a collection of advertisements to promote Windfall’s tourist activities. If rumors are spreading about me, they’ll be insufferable.
I turn on my heel.
“Heard you stripped at Javier’s,” Maggie calls before I get far.
Grudgingly, I face her and wrestle my calm expression in place. “Nonsense rumors, as you well know.”
She fits a stack of Stallard Winery rack cards into the pamphlet display, a hint of mischief in her suppressed grin. “Not what I heard. Do you charge extra for that service? Like, does it cost more or less than the construction end of your work?”
An uncontrollable blush heats my cheeks. “Hilarious. How’s your kitchen wiring, by the way? Did Dean get it sorted?”
Their wiring issue is an excellent diversion, and I haven’t had time to talk to Dean lately, make sure the work has been done.
“He hasn’t made it out,” Lennon says. “Got too busy with his other jobs. What I don’t get,” he adds before I can ask for more details, “is why you took off your pants in front of Simone.”
I freeze. “I didn’t take off my pants.”
“I get the shirt,” he goes on, facing E now, amusement written across his smug face. “But peeling down to his briefs is pushing it.”
“Definitely over the line,” E agrees, giving me a judging look.
“I didn’t take off my pants,” I say more forcefully.
“I heard his jeans were those Velcro kind strippers peel off with one yank.” Delilah eyes me from my work boots to my what-the-heck-is-happening face. “Apparently he blasted music from his phone, something kinky by—”
“I didn’t take off my pants!” I shout.
