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Fatigue tingles shot through Charlie’s fingers, and she shook them out. She’d keep shaking her arms until they fell off if that was what it took. Mack stretched her hips, rubbed her neck, and returned to pounding the mallet against the bar. And,dear God, her strained forearms and glistening skin were the performance-enhancing drug Charlie needed to push through the pain.
Almost two hours later, her limbs were totally shot. Arm muscles twitched, her tacky and dehydrated mouth begged for liquid, her fingers were raw.
Mack picked up the crowbar and it slipped through her hand like it was coated in oil. “I literally can’t even grip it.”
They both gripped the final piece of flooring and tugged. The plank landed in a corner behind them and they collapsed.
“I’m. So. Tired.” She deadweight propped herself against the wall, and Mack crawled to join her.
“Same.” Mack leaned her head on Charlie’s shoulder, and Charlie rested back on her.
How the heck did Mack’s dad do this kind of stuff day in and day out? Even her eyelids hurt. Time passed, she wasn’t even sure how long, before she took a solid look at the shop. If Sugar Mugs was destroyed earlier, a trifecta of natural disasters hit it now. The place was a shipwreck meets earthquake meets frat-house weekend bender.
But her home was fixable. And gratitude overflowed.
A stomach growled. “Was that me or you?” Mack chuckled.
“No idea.” Charlie dragged herself to her feet and grabbed two plates from the counter. “Coffee cake?”
Mack nodded and flung herself face down on the couch. She rolled over and propped herself on her elbows when Charlie handed her the cake.
“Can I ask you something?” Charlie closed her eyes as the cinnamon-and-brown-sugar relief swirled on her tongue.
“Of course.”
“What do you get out of helping me?”
Mack set the fork down. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t mean to sound accusatory. I appreciate you so much right now. But people don’t normally just help others like this, you know?”
Mack softened and reached for her fork again. “Has that been your experience?”
“I’m just used to doing things on my own.” She learned how to do laundry at six years old so she wouldn’t wear dirty clothes to kindergarten. Took her dad’s shoes off when he passed out on the couch because it was easier on his feet the next day if she did. Left a glass of water on the coffee table because he always woke up thirsty. “I feel like I have to pay you or something.”
“Oh God, stop.” Mack twisted the cap open on a water. “I’ve used your shop as an office the last few weeks. I should be paying you rent. So, we’re even, okay?”
They were both disgusting right now. Dirty, stinky, and sweaty. And Charlie was pretty sure she’d never been as deeply attracted to anyone as she was at this moment.
The door opened, and work boots stomped across the floor. “All right, ladies, come grab a few boxes.”
“I… can’t… move…” Mack said, and Charlie hoisted her to her feet. They shuffled outside as Mack’s dad lugged the boxes toward the opening of the truck’s cab.
“Dang, these are heavy,” Mack said as Charlie held the end of the box and walked backward into the house. After unloading and stacking the boxes in the corner, Mack’s dad summoned them back to the floor.
“I’m gonna show you two how to do this. I’ll come back later to check the joints and make sure everything is sealed properly, so we don’t have this issue again.” He lined up the planks and snapped theadjoining piece. “Installing is a helluva lot easier than pulling them out.”
Thank God.
Mack’s dad brought in extra towels and told the women he’d be back in a few hours. Charlie and Mack stuffed the towels underneath their knees and got to work.
He was right. The work was more manageable. They connected the pieces in under an hour, hauled the floor chunks and paper towels to the dumpster, and swept and mopped.
And then crumpled onto the couch.
“I can’t even think.” Charlie wiped her forehead on her arm. “Don’t ask me my name, or zodiac sign, or favorite color. All I can think about is a hot AF bath and my bed.”
“A bath.” Mack flung her arm over her head and slouched down. “With lavender bubbles. And a vanilla candle. Followed by a massage and a Netflix marathon.”
