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Purely for work purposes.
But Arlo was up there, looking all sexy, perched on the roof structure, chatting with Dan and hefting wood as if it were matchsticks. A bit like how he lifted me.
Yep, another reason for hiding behind a tree—a hard-on that wouldn’t freaking quit.
But I was out from there now, standing by the table where plans were laid out, and I didn’t have to call up because Arlo was staring right down at me.
“Where’s Charlie?” he asked, a little worried and a lot loud, as he started to descend the ladder. Heat flooded me that he was coming to check on Charlie and me, and what I wouldn’t give for him to stride over and kiss me.
“Stay up there; it’s okay, Mama has him, and Leo is there with Jason and Daisy.”
He nodded, and I shielded my eyes to peer up at him as the sun beat down on the huge backyard. From this angle, he was a blur in the heat, and I wiped sweat from my face as a gust of wind caught the blueprint spread out on the makeshift table, and I turned my attention to fighting the breeze to keep everything contained.
“So, it’s good you’re here,” Arlo called again. “I had this idea.”
I heard Dan’s string of curse words, and thanked the heavens that the owners of this sprawling McMansion weren’t home.
“What?” I didn’t need to ask. I already knew that Arlo was up there, probably messing with the architects’ plans, which would end up making my burgeoning headache worse. I cursed as another Santa Ana gust caught the corner of the plans and whipped them out from under the weights at the bottom left corner. Did no one think to properly weigh them down?
Shit, I’m micromanaging.
Still, we were at a critical stage for the build, and the last thing I needed was to lose track of where we were, or deal with Arlo changing things when my head was all messed up, however much I loved him. I tugged the decorated stone closer to the corner and moved Arlo’s backpack, so it gave the specs some shelter.
“We should shift A-twenty-seven over,” Arlo called down.
I blinked up at him because it didn’t make any sense given that my brain was still mush.
“We’re shifting what now?” Dan challenged from where he was perched and ended the question with another curse. Our second carpenter was the most laid-back guy I knew, but he was always suspicious o Arlo’s ideas , and I didn’t blame him given how out of left field they sometimes were.
“Beam A-twenty-seven,” Arlo expanded, which made more sense. I glanced back at the plans to see if Arlo had a point.
“Checking!” I said.
“No need. Look!” Arlo called, and it was too late for me to figure out the change in the specs when he was already up there doing whatever he wanted.
“If we move A-twenty-six over, and then put twenty-seven across this way…” Arlo heaved the wood as if it were nothing, and slid it into different position, Dan scrambling to catch the other side, and I sighed to myself. I’d been so careful when I costed out and we’d cut timber for this construction project, and there was Arlo—brilliant, creative wannabe-architect—up there messing with the layout.
What if the roof tiles won’t fit then? I worried. “What about the roof tiles?” I shouted the same thing up to Arlo, so I at least had my say. For what it was worth.
“Agreed,” Dan grumbled.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Arlo said and continued with his rearranging. “They will,” he said with absolute confidence. “Then, we have an overhang that aligns with the porch. Look!”
I didn’t even have to look, but I did, and he was right, and even Dan gave a low whistle of approval.
I checked back at the plans. “Okay then. Do we need to adjust the number of?—”
“Nope,” Arlo replied.
“What about the?—”
“Nope.”
Dan chuckled, and I rolled my eyes at him—there he went disrespecting his boss and siding with Arlo. The two of them had been working on this for three days, wanting to break the back of a summer house construction that was going to be the centerpiece of this sprawling showpiece property. It was late afternoon, and a very big part of me wanted to point out that I’d allocated man hours and supplies for this with great thought, but I’d be lying. I’d mostly let Arlo have free rein from the start of this, way back when we’d first been approached to do the work. It was supposed to be my segue into asking him to be partner, and he was proving himself more than capable, but did us falling in love change things too much? It was lucky that we hadn’t changed enough to warrant resubmission of approvals, but we needed to be sure that we could convince the people who mattered that it worked better his way. Could I tell him that as his boss, but still want to jump his bones as his lover?
I adjusted my sunglasses and nodded up to Dan, who shrugged and went back to assisting the great beam shuffle. Dan held the wood as Arlo measured and sanded in situ with an ease that only comes from his particular brand of confidence.
“Arlo, do we have enough crossbeams if you?—”
