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He lowers the volume. “One of my construction sites.”
“I swear I’ll haunt you forever if I end up being buried beneath six feet of concrete tonight.”
“I’m flattered you want to hang around me for all eternity.” His eyes sparkle.
Mine narrow into slits.
He raises his right hand. “No need to worry. So long as my mother loves you, I’ll let you live.”
“I’m not sure whether to be horrified by the threat or impressed you’re willing to put up with me solely because your mother loves me.”
He answers my question by increasing the volume of the music.
Cabrón.
When Julian suggested getting rid of my ring, visiting a construction site was not what I had in mind.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Julian switches his sneakers for worn construction boots before forcing me into a hideous pair oflarge plastic ones that squeak with every step I take toward the fence.
He grabs a white hard hat from behind the barrier and places it on my head.
My nose scrunches. “Seriously?”
“Safety first.” He turns my headlamp on before setting up his own.
Screw guys in backward ball caps and gray sweatpants. Men in hard hats and work boots are my new kink, thanks to Construction Ken standing in front of me with muscular arms and killer cheekbones.
I already know my therapist is going to dive right into this topic during next week’s session.
“You good?” Julian’s voice startles me.
“Yup,” I manage to get out.
He opens the gate and leads the way toward the backyard of the semi-finished house. I follow behind him while watching out for tools and supplies scattered around.
Julian stops beside an empty concrete mixer near the exterior back wall overlooking the lake.
“You’re joking.” Of all the things Julian could have suggested, I would have never guessed this.
“Do you have a better idea?”
“No, but this feels criminal.”
He keeps quiet while gathering supplies. His white T-shirt quickly loses its crisp color as construction dust clings to the material. His jeans suffer a similar fate, with the blue color turning gray when he pours the dry mixture inside the machine.
Though Julian probably hasn’t touched a shovel since hebroke ground on his fancy office at the corner of Main Street, he exudes confidence as he works.
If only his dad could see him now.
It was difficult to tear those two away from each other, especially when they were boots-deep in a project together. But then Luis Senior suddenly passed away from a heart attack, leaving a twenty-year-old Julian to grapple with a family business and his mourning mother.
I might dislike Julian for a hundred different reasons, but I will always respect the hell out of him and the sacrifices he made for his family, including dropping out of Stanford.
Julian curses to himself for the second time as he glares at the electrical panel.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I ask.
“Just because I don’t work on-site anymore doesn’t mean I’m incompetent.”
