He finished knotting the bandana and started toward the house, backwards. “Don’t forget the sunscreen. Wouldn’t want you to get burned.”
Marc stomped over, kicking dust up around them.
“Marc, chill.” Mandy adjusted the heavy belt around her waist so it lay flush with the waist of her bathing suit and shorts. “He’s not interested in me that way.” She watched his face for a reaction, curious if he’d seen anything, sensed what she had sensed about A.J. and Boston. Only anger bubbled in his expression, and she was relieved. There was no triangle. The idea was nothing more than Cam’s desperate male imagination, and he’d infected her with it.
“You’ve got a lot to learn.” Marc spit on the ground, his gaze narrow.
“And I intend to.” Mandy walked with him into the house. “I’m watching, Marc. And I’m picking everything up. I can do this.”
He stopped, and leveled her with a look that made her feel like a girl again. “You still think this is about work?”
He shook his head and went upstairs.
chapter eight
Mandy couldn’t move, cut down by Marc’s remark.
She prided herself on being intuitive. She’d always been able to read Marc like a blueprint; he was about as predictable as a tract house.
So why did she have this cramp of uncertainty in her stomach?
She almost snatched a company tee shirt out of the back of the truck but decided against it. That wouldn’t prove anything. Just seconds ago she’d been sure the playing field was tilted in her favor. After Marc’s comment, nothing was even, everything was distorted.
She couldn’t let it stop her from doing her best work and moving ahead with goals. Being accepted as one of the crew in every sense of the word was what her apprenticeship was about.
She took the stairs up, her chin held high, and crossed directly to Boston who had already started on the next section of interior wall. A.J. winked at her from across the room. A fast blush covered her skin but she made sure her hips moved with just enough sway to signal that she wasn’t backing down about what she’d chosen to wear or more importantly, that she was there to work.
Larry’s music screamed. The whole structure rocked and shimmied like a pool hall at midnight. For a guy who didn’t like to dance, she questioned Larry’s choice of music. Whatever was playing sounded like it was piped right from the nearest club.
Protocol demanded that she ask Boston for an assignment. He had his back to her, pounding nails in.
His tool belt hung askew on his narrow hips and the sight was cute. Mandy smiled. “Where do you want me?” she asked.
He pounded one of two nails he held between his fingers into the piece he was securing and jerked his head right, indicating a pile of wood. “Cut me some base pieces for this wall.”
She nodded. The sun bit mercilessly into her skin, but it felt good. At least she wasn’t baking in jeans. Her deep breath took in the scent of sunscreen she’d slathered on, as well as the elixir of wood, and gave her a natural high.
Dutifully, she followed Boston’s directions and over the next few hours the final wall along the west side of the house slowly erected.
Boston levered the last, long piece into place and Mandy stepped close, reached out and centered it, holding it in place for him. Sweat dripped in long streams down his spine. The tips of his dark hair clung in wet waves around his face. His dark eyes met hers and Mandy’s heart fluttered.
“You should take a water break,” he said, fingers dipping into the nail pocket on his belt.
Real caring was behind the suggestion, and Mandy appreciated that. “Just as soon as we’re done.”
He smiled a little, planted the nail and hammered.
Then he dropped down. Up until that moment, her choice of attire hadn’t bothered her, but the minute Boston was down at her knees and her fantasy kicked in, every cell in her body ripped open, vulnerable and exposed. Clothes really did help protect you, she thought, noticing the brown color of his crown. Maybe males grew up without that added layer of security because they spent more time with their skin exposed than females. All she knew was that what had seemed practical, now felt dreadfully uncomfortable. She tried to cover herself with her free hand but wasn’t able to.
Finally, Boston drove in the last nail. He tested the post with a firm shake, then stood, his gaze following the lines of her body from her calves to her thighs past her tool belt with a fast leap to her face. Her breath stalled in her chest. Her pulse thundered.
“You look like you’re getting burned,” he said.
Mandy took a deep breath. “Oh?”
He scratched the back of his head, nodded, and pointed to a couple of spots on her shoulders. Hesitantly, he nodded at one on her chest. She looked down. Sure enough her chest was scarlet.
“You have any sunscreen?” he asked.
“In my haste to cool off, I forgot to bring some. But I did put some on earlier.”
“Hmm.”
It was cute the way his lips twisted, the way he kept scratching his head like he wasn’t sure what to do.
“Hey, A.J.” She started over to him. “Do you have any sunscreen?”
“Yeah, just a sec.” A.J. finished, slipped his hammer into his tool belt and met her halfway. His eyes made a quick scan of her. “You’re red, baby doll.” He reached behind and pulled out a small tube of sunscreen then handed it to her.
“Thanks.” Mandy started the process of rubbing the white cream into her shoulders and arms.
“You’re skin’s fair,” A.J. commented.
“A curse.”
“What curse?” A.J. asked. “It’s like porcelain. Be glad. Some men like that.”
Mandy flushed but met his gaze. “Oh, yeah? I think you’re just saying that so I don’t feel like an albino next to you. Look.” She held her arm up against his. His skin was rough and dark compared to her pale excuse for a tan.
“Look at that,” she said.
“Like I said,” his voice scraped and she looked at him. Controlled intensity was in his eyes again, shooting sparks off inside of her. “The contrast is what’s beautiful.”
Mandy swallowed a thick knot. Before she knew it, A.J.’s fingers slipped the tube from her hand, squeezed some lotion into his palms and then he was behind her, rubbing and spreading the cool cream into the tender skin across her back. She winced.
“You’re pretty red here,” his voice was low and husky, his touch gentle. Mandy’d never had a massage before, but knew in that instance, it would be intoxicating. His hands slid down her back, along her sides and Mandy broke out in laughter when his fingers skimmed side zones particularly ticklish.
“Thanks, A.J.” She turned and took a step back, along with a much needed breath.
“No problem.” A.J. rubbed his hands together.
Behind him stood Boston, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes razor sharp and aimed right at the two of them.
Boston turned and headed downstairs. Mandy bit her lower lip. This whole situation was too sticky for her liking. She felt A.J. come up behind her. The scent of his sweat mixed with the fragrance in the sunscreen now on her skin.
“You had anything to drink?” he asked.
“I was just going down to get something.” She turned. He was still rubbing leftover cream into his hands.
His grin had faded into something subtle, ponderous.
He kept glancing toward the stairs where Boston had just disappeared. At the same time, he held her there with a gaze that pricked Mandy’s curiosity, like an enticingly wrapped present that was forbidden, but she was still tempted to open. She understood that opening it might be dangerous.
She backed toward the stairs. “You want anything to drink?”
“Sure. Yeah. I’ll take a water.”
Sweat cooled as she took the stairs down into the shade on the first floor. Boston was already by the cooler, bent over, rifling through it. He didn’t look at her, even when she stopped next to him. After h
e’d grabbed a bottle, she quickly grabbed two and opened one.
He was in the middle of a long chug, so she took the moment to quench her thirst as well. He emptied the whole bottle, wiped his mouth and finally looked at her.
Her stomach did a somersault. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
“You okay?” She tightened the lid on her bottle.
“Yeah.” He turned, tossed the empty bottle into a corner and started back upstairs. Mandy followed, wanting more than anything to restore the light, fun atmosphere that had been in the air when she’d first come on the job.
Boston went right back to work; A.J. stopped and came over, his lazy grin back in place. “Thanks.” He took the water bottle, untwisted the lid. “We’re making progress,” he said with a look around. “Right on schedule.
That ought to make Marc happy.”
Mandy nodded. “It’s Friday, that’ll make Marc happy enough.”
“True.” A.J. chuckled, took a long drink. “You going to that Mexican place you were telling me about this weekend?”
“I haven’t made plans yet.”
“I don’t get it,” A.J. studied her. “A cutie like you shouldn’t have a minute to spare.”
“Well I don’t. I mean, I work all day, and you know how time consuming that can be. And then I—”
“I’m not talking about that.” He shook his head on a low laugh. “I’m talking about the men in your life.
They should be camped out on your doorstep.” Mandy dipped her head. “That’s the problem with younger guys,” A.J. went on. “They haven’t been out there long enough to recognize a pearl when they see it.”
Words scrambled then evaporated from Mandy’s mind. She was flattered and embarrassed at the same time, to have such an appraisal. “Thank you, but I’m not sure I’m much of a pearl.”
A.J. reached out and touched the tip of her chin, then took another drink, his green eyes staying with hers.
“Even you don’t see it. But then that’s part of what makes you special.”
“Thanks, A.J. Your sisters taught you well, didn’t they?”
He laughed, the water bottle poised at his lips. “I guess they had something to do with it. School of hard knocks is where most of us learn. I’m no different.”
“The one university we all have to attend,” Mandy joked.
“Mandy.”
Boston’s sharp call had Mandy whipping around.
He stood waiting alongside the spot where the inside wall was set to go up. He had his arms across his chest and a scowl on his face.
“Can we get back to work now?”
“Oh. Um, sure.” Mandy started over.
“Thanks for the water, baby doll.” A.J. lifted the now-empty bottle at her and she smiled.
“No problem.” She swung her arms, turned and bumped into Boston. His brown eyes were black, and not amused. They slid from her, over her shoulder to A.J. and held. Mandy didn’t dare turn around and see how A.J.
took the condemning look.
“I’m all yours,” she said, then cringed.
Boston started in on the wall without a word, and she followed suit, measuring, cutting then fitting wood in place. Through the framed rooms on the second floor, Mandy saw that Marc and Larry were making progress on the master bedroom area.
“This is nice floor plan,” Mandy commented, thinking about the layout. Boston nodded. “Small but well laid out.” She wondered where he lived, was it a house or an apartment. Did he have roommates or did he live on his own.
“You live in a house or an apartment?” she asked.
“Apartment.”
“Alone?” When he hesitated, she thought she’d asked too much of a man bent on keeping personal details at arms length. Maybe he’d lived there with the woman who’d burned and dumped him.
“It’s a fourplex I own. I live in one—alone—and rent out the others.”
“Smart.” Mandy was impressed. She knew enough about real estate, building and investing from her dad to know a move like that meant money in the bank in the long run. “You learn that from Napoleon Hill?”
He shot her a smile, and all of the crimped worry she’d held onto smoothed out. “Not him, another investment guy.”
“That’s cool that you study investing.”
He handed her the dummy end of the measuring tape and stepped backwards. “I don’t want to build houses all my life.”
“What do you want to do?”
The tape was stretched between them and neither moved for a moment, eyes locked on the other. Boston took in a deep breath. “I’m not sure yet.”
“That’s cool. You’re young still.”
Something dark glinted in his eyes and he tugged the tape to the wall and held it firm, measuring.
“Compared to what?”
Mandy held her end in place while he marked the measurements with his pencil. “Compared to whatever.
You don’t have to be on course yet, is all I’m saying.”
“You’re on course,” he said, coming toward her, the tape between them shrinking, drawing them together. He stopped. The toes of his boots touched hers. “You want to build houses.”
All she could do was nod, swamped with his aura, feisty, challenging, tempting. “You know what you want,”
he nearly whispered. “And you know what you’re doing.”
Mandy swallowed. She was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about her career choice anymore.
He hooked the measuring tape to his belt but his gaze never left hers, as if he was trying to read her, to measure the truth. Mandy hated the apprehensiveness she saw behind his eyes, that need to protect a vulnerable heart. She felt the urge to reach out and comfort him, but didn’t. She wouldn’t be the one to bring him down. The heat, the close proximity of the work, the long days building something together, all of it was tightening their bond, constructing a relationship of friendship she would not jeopardize. She might never have him any other way, but they worked together, and that was better than nothing at all.
He lowered his gaze to the dusty sub floor and his dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks. Mandy bit her lip, watching him struggle with what to trust, what to believe.
More than wanting him at that moment, she understood what her heart really needed to do. She didn’t want him to be hurt again—by anyone—not even her. If he thought she wasn’t interested, he’d step back, stay in the safe zone and his heart could get stronger before he took another chance.
She crossed the room, picked up an armful of cut two-by-fours and brought them to where they would begin the next section of inner wall for one of the bedrooms. It only took him a few minutes before he joined her, and they were back at work as a team.
• • • • •
The sun was gone, but its deep fiery rays clung to the sky, oozing, melting away like paint dripping down a wall. Marc carried the cooler to the truck, the ice inside sloshing with each of his steps. He opened it, dumped the remaining water bottles out and poured the residual water out before hefting the cooler up and plopping it in the back of the truck where A.J., Mandy and Boston stood stowing their tool belts.
“Man, it was a bugger today.” Marc swiped his hand over his face.
Larry had already taken off his tool belt and stood a few feet away emptying the rest of his water bottle over his head.
Having packed her tool belt safely away, Mandy decided Larry’s idea was the perfect way to end the day and she grabbed a bottle then moved away from the back of the truck and the tool chest. She twisted off the lid and held it up over her head. The icy streams brought a high-pitched squeal from her throat, and the cold water nearly sizzled on contact with her skin.
“Aah, this feels great,” she murmured, eyes closed as the cool liquid drenched her. She swiped her arm across her eyes feeling more refreshed, and opened her eyes just in time to catch A.J., Larry and Boston watching.
Boston quickly looked away, but A.J.’s lips lifted in a g
rin.
“What’re you doing?” Marc was by her side, scowling. “Wasting water like that.”
“Larry’s doing it,” Mandy protested, pointing at Larry who instantly ditched his water bottle.
Marc reached into the back of the truck, snagged a tee shirt and tossed it in her face. “Yeah, well, Larry’s not built like you. Put this on.”
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