by Sarah Smith
“You ready to work?”
The sound of Tate’s voice yanks me out of my midday fantasy. I twist around and am greeted with him scowling in ripped jeans and a loose-fitting gray T-shirt. He grips a drill.
“What?”
Lynn jumps off her bucket and the crowd disperses. She waves while darting past us, her thick bangs peeking from under a yellow hard hat.
Tate lets out a slow exhale. “Weren’t you listening? We’re working on the frame, and those of us with construction experience are supposed to buddy up with the clueless—I mean, inexperienced volunteers.”
Now it’s my turn to scowl. I don’t have it in me to work with Tate on the construction site in addition to our marketing project and still share office space.
“Just because I haven’t built a house before doesn’t mean I’m clueless.”
He shakes his head before turning to walk away. I lengthen my stride to keep up.
Sweat beads across every inch of my skin as I sort through the lumber. I can’t believe he’s taking a potshot at me when we’ve barely broken ground on today’s work. I wipe my face with my forearm, wondering how on earth I’ll survive working this close to Tate.
I gaze around the worksite. The Nuts & Bolts crew seem to have fallen into volunteer mode quickly. Most of the workers are huddled by the foundation, working on the frame. A handful of people examine blueprints on the hood of someone’s truck parked nearby. Another pickup pulls up to the site loaded with more two-by-fours. Two guys I recognize from the warehouse jump out of the truck and unload the lumber.
Tate joins the nearest group of people sorting through two-by-fours. To avoid looking like the inept volunteer that I most certainly am, I copy the people near me and help line up the rows. Tate works like a machine, drilling together the segments in no time.
“So you’re a secret homebuilding expert in your free time?” I ask.
He pauses, leaning up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “I’m hardly an expert. But I did spend my summers in high school and college working for a homebuilder.”
When he reaches up to stretch, I peek at him. His forearms glisten in the unrelenting sun. I’ve mentioned before that he’s a nonugly entity. However, now that I see him in work clothes, there’s no avoiding the fact that he’s undeniably in shape and attractive. Life is so very unfair.
I move to line up another row of lumber, and he follows. I twist around to reach a faraway two-by-four and catch Tate midgawk. He was staring at the slim peek of my midriff with a half-open mouth. A second later, he clamps it shut. His eyes fall away, but not before I catch a cloudy look I don’t recognize. He tries to appear busy messing with the drill bit despite his chest rising and falling rapidly.
This is an amusing change of pace. Showing a bit of skin works a lot better at throwing him off than being combative. I step toward him until the tip of my tennis shoe touches the tip of his work boot.
He lets out a garbled grunt, and the faintest pink color creeps up his cheeks.
“So unprofessional. Keep your eyes to yourself, will you?”
He backs up before almost tripping on an uneven dip in the ground, his face tomato red. I can’t help but smirk to myself at how thoroughly I rattled him.
“Hey, you.” Jamie’s voice sends happy goose bumps across my sweat-soaked arms.
Behind the dark lenses of my sunglasses, I take stock of him. The tattered white shirt he’s donned displays his muscular arms nicely. Ripped jeans hug his legs, while a well-worn tool belt hangs off what I can only assume is a killer set of obliques. He looks like a sexy contractor straight out of a romance novel.
“Hey,” is all I can say. I can’t think of any other words to speak, I’m so flustered.
Kelsey halts midstep on her way to the water cooler to gawk.
“Come to mama,” she mutters from behind me. She elbows my arm, and I bite my lip to keep from grinning too wide.
Jamie must have heard, because he lets a soft chuckle slip.
“You weren’t trying to get away without saying hi, were you?” He gives me the same killer smile he did last week, and he’s maintaining the same eye contact. Definite flirting tells.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I have a pen to return after all.” I pat the side pocket of my yoga pants. He takes a glance at my legs, just like I hoped he would.
When he finally meets my eyes, he’s grinning even wider. “Happy to see that. But I’d be even happier if I could see you outside of here. Maybe someplace cooler?”
“Oh. That sounds—”
The grind of a circular saw drowns out my voice. Jamie and I twist around to see Tate slicing segments of lumber just feet away. I glare at him and point to the stack of unused two-by-fours, wondering why on earth he thinks we need more.
“Do you have to do that right now?” I try to yell over the scream of the metal blade slicing through wood. Tate squints up at me, mock confusion on his face. He points a work-gloved hand to his ear and shakes his head, indicating that he can’t hear.
I hold up a finger to Jamie, then dart around to the extension cord trailing from the portable generator. I yank it from the outlet before narrowing my eyes at Tate. His jaw muscles bulge when he bites down, probably out of frustration.
I step back up to Jamie. “I was saying, that sounds great. What did you have in mind?”
“If you’re free tonight, I’m going to hit up the rock climbing gym. Stellar air-conditioning even on the hottest days. Makes you feel like you’re scaling the Rockies in the fall. Care to join?”
My giddiness has morphed into full-fledged joy. Jamie the hunky contractor just asked me out. Score.
“I’d love to.”
Just a few feet away, Tate has given up on slicing lumber and instead is chugging from his gigantic water bottle. He stares at Jamie and me with repulsion. I wonder what his problem is now.
“I was hoping you’d say that. Here, let’s exchange numbers, and I’ll text you later with the details.”
I nearly melt at the way he tilts his head to the side. I manage a nod. After we return our phones to each other, he flashes me another heart-melting smile. The scrape of plastic on concrete jerks my attention away. Tate’s hard hat tumbles to the concrete base of the foundation while he stomps off. One of the warehouse workers picks it up before hollering at Tate, “What gives?” But Tate doesn’t even acknowledge him while walking away. He’s probably angry Jamie and I interrupted his sawing session with our grotesque unprofessional flirting.
Jamie waves good-bye to me as he jogs back to his company’s worksite nearby while I jump back in with the others.
* * *
• • •
THE EXCITEMENT OF my rock climbing date propels me through the rest of the afternoon, but the moment I arrive at the gym, I’m petrified. It finally registers that I’ll have to scale some pretty serious heights on this date with Jamie. One problem: I have a numbing fear of heights.
Jamie greets me at the entrance. I try to zero in on his perfectly straight teeth to distract myself, but even that won’t do.
When I step inside, I immediately feel inadequate. Every single person sports a lean, muscular frame and impressive upper body. Climbers hang ten feet from the ground by their fingers, bent at the knuckles. I can’t even do a chin-up. I’m screwed. Thank God the floor is covered in inches-thick rubber mats. I’ll be cozying up to those face-first real soon.
When I stare up at the climbing walls, my stomach churns. Each one is dotted with multicolored knobs, denoting the various difficulty levels. The walls look like they have Muppet measles. My throat tightens until it’s sore.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Jamie nudges me. I’m too terrified to speak. “Want to head up first? I’ll spot you.”
“Uh, no.”
“I know the climbing walls look intimidating, but I actually think it’s
easier to get your feet wet doing this first. Then we can try out bouldering.”
“Okay,” I mumble. I look down at my hands. They’re trembling. I cross my arms to hide it.
“Here. I’ll go first and show you.”
I watch Jamie as he explains how to put on the harness and strap on the safety cord. His mouth moves, but I register no words. A faint ringing noise is all I hear while nerves crackle under my skin. He claps some chalk onto his hands and scales to the top in record time. He must be part mountain goat. An easy grin crosses his face when he gazes down at me, looking like he just graced the cover of Outside magazine.
Sweat pools under my arms, in my palms, on the inside of my elbows. I have a sinking feeling that I will die if I try to climb this wall. It’s a completely irrational thought, but I can’t help it. Heights bring out worst-case-scenario me.
Jamie is rappelling back down when I hear a familiar voice.
“You okay?” I turn to my left and see Tate.
“What are you doing here?” My fear is now tainted with annoyance. He is the last person I need to see.
“Working out. I’m here most Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”
“Oh.” Just speaking that single word leaves me out of breath. My nerves are officially shot.
“Hey, are you all right?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t do heights.”
“Then why are you here?”
The urge to rebuff him overtakes my fear. Of course I would run into Tate at the rock climbing gym when I’m on the verge of having a panic attack, and of course he would be here to witness it.
“Jamie invited me,” I say defensively.
“If you don’t feel comfortable doing this, you shouldn’t.” I notice he’s wearing a gray tank top dotted with his sweat. His arms are encased in sculpted muscle and thick veins. I had no idea under all those hoodies he had the pipes of a Greek god.
I blink and shake my head. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
Jamie drops to the ground. “Oh, hey, Tate. What’s up?” How he can be so cheery after scaling a forty-foot wall, I’ll never know.
“I’m trying to talk her out of climbing the wall.” Tate brushes his hands on his shorts, leaving chalk residue on the navy blue jersey fabric.
“That’s silly. Why?”
“Because she’s clearly freaked out. Look at her.”
I try to smile, but it comes off like I’m being forced to grin at gunpoint.
“No way. She’ll be fine. It’s easy,” Jamie says as he straps me into the harness.
“Emmie, you don’t have to do this.” Tate’s voice is soft. It’s strange. It’s the opposite of the irritated tone he employs during work hours.
“No. I want to,” I say. I’m such a liar, but I can’t let him see me fail. I want to impress Jamie, too, but the urge to prove Tate wrong outweighs even that. I will fake bravery, and I will climb this terrifying wall.
From the corner of my eye, I catch him shaking his head when he steps away. I follow Jamie’s instructions and push myself up the wall with my legs. As I climb, he shouts out directions.
“Grab the yellow knob on your right,” he says. I obey with trembling arms and legs. “Green one on the left. Okay now, push yourself up a bit with your legs. Nice!”
I don’t know if my pulse has ever soared so rapidly. Even when I do sprinting drills, my heartbeat is nowhere near this frantic.
“Don’t look down. Don’t look down,” I chant quietly to myself as I hug the wall.
“You’re doing great!” Jamie yells from below. He sounds far away. Curiosity gets the best of me, and like a blockhead, I peek down. I’m well over halfway up the wall. Fucking hell, this is high. My arms begin to violently tremble.
“Now go for the blue on your left,” Jamie directs.
My vision blurs, my mouth hangs open, and I’m huffing like I’m having a panic attack.
“No!” I yell.
Jamie’s laugh echoes. “It’s okay, you’ve got this!”
“No! I can’t!” My panicked, deafening tone ricochets off the wall.
Every single person in this gym must have heard me. I don’t care. I’m paralyzed with fear. There’s no way in hell I’m moving an inch higher on this wall. I want to go back down to the floor, but I can’t move. I can’t even will myself to lift one finger from either knob in each hand.
“Emmie. Take a breath,” Tate shouts from below. “I’ll lead you down. Just listen and follow my directions, okay?”
I nod, knowing that if I try to speak I’ll burst into tears.
“Look to your left. See that orange knob? Put your left foot on it.”
I do it.
“Good. Now lower your left hand to that gray knob below. Yes. Nice job.”
The next few minutes Tate directs me back to the floor. I’ve never been so happy to hear his voice. The moment my feet touch the ground, my heartbeat slows. It’s still fast, but I can discern that there are individual beats taking place. It’s an improvement from the single thrust of adrenaline against my rib cage while I was glued to the wall.
Yanking off the harness and cord is impossible with shaky hands. “Get me out of this. Now.”
“Okay. It’s okay. Easy.” Jamie is wide eyed at my frantic showing. If my meltdown halfway up the wall didn’t turn him off, the freaked-out way I’m kicking off the climbing gear certainly will.
“Hey, it’s fine. You did great.” Jamie pulls the harness off of me.
“I need a minute.” I jog to the front door, suddenly aware of all the strangers staring at me.
I’m pacing back and forth in tears across the parking lot when Tate approaches me.
“What a loser, huh?” I say in a raspy whisper.
“You’re not.” His tone is strangely kind. I don’t think I’ve ever heard his voice this soft or seen his eyes this concerned. He seems genuinely worried for me.
I let out a half-cry, half-laugh sound. “I had a panic attack on the rock climbing wall in front of everyone. My freak-out will be posted on YouTube in no time, I’m sure.”
“Don’t say that.”
I shake my head. “I honestly thought I could do it.” I rub my arms. They’re covered in goose bumps even though it’s eighty-eight degrees outside and insufferably humid.
“You tried something you were scared of. That’s commendable.” He moves his arm like he’s going to pat my shoulder, but it lands on his hip.
“And I promptly had a meltdown. It was pathetic. I am pathetic.” My voice shakes.
“You are not pathetic, Emmie.” The way the words fall out of his mouth sounds like he’s reading from a heartfelt greeting card. Those are the kindest words he’s spoken to me.
I glance at him. He glows under the parking lot lights. “Thanks for helping me get down,” I say. “Sorry, I should have said that sooner.”
He nods, his mouth curving into a not-quite-smile. “You’re welcome.”
The yellowy light reveals a smudge of chalk on his forehead. Slowly, I reach my fingers to him. He doesn’t jerk away like I think he will. In fact, he doesn’t move at all, not even when my thumb glides against his hot, wet skin. He simply stands, still as a tree, his eyes on me the entire time. A wave of comfort washes over me. Touching him feels like the most natural thing in the world right now.
“Chalk on your face.” I wipe my hand on my thigh.
“Thanks.” That not-quite-smile remains. He turns away and walks back inside.
My hand falls on my chest, and I gasp for air. Tate Rasmussen saved me tonight. Color me surprised.
six
I guzzle a Cherry Coke and rum while listening to Kelsey chatter on during her going-away happy hour at Jimi D’s Bar and Grill. Lucky lady is moving to Florida for her husband’s new job. After sipping, I sigh. I’m going to miss her hig
h-pitched giggles and the fun-loving personality she brings to Nuts & Bolts.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love it here. This is the heartland after all.” She clutches my arm like she’s worried I’ll take offense.
I wince. The multiple rings she’s wearing dig into my flesh. I shake my head, pulling my arm away as I laugh along. My phone dings. Jamie texts that he’s running late but will be here once he’s done with work. Luckily, my recent rock wall freak-out didn’t cost me the flirty edge in our text conversations. After Tate disappeared inside, Jamie came out to check on me. I explained how heights weren’t my cup of tea, and he said he appreciated how I gave climbing a shot. He still seems into me, and I’m definitely still into him.
The Nuts & Bolts crew has taken over half of the bar. Almost everyone from work is here, even antisocial Gus, because no reasonable person would decline free alcohol paid for by their employer. Surprisingly, I don’t see creepy Brett. I would have thought he’d be first in line at the bar, but I’m delighted to not have to deal with him.
“But the beach!” Kelsey’s pitch reaches glass-shattering levels. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years. Sticking my feet in the sand, closing my eyes, and just forgetting about it all.”
Her hair spray–stiff curls bounce when she throws her head back. I nod absentmindedly, wishing I could teleport to Hapuna Beach right about now. I’d give anything to dive under those crystal-blue waves.
Kelsey turns to the group next to her, regaling them with a tale about Florida beach hotties.
“Joke’s on her. Pensacola is a shithole.” I flip around to see Tate on the stool next to me.
Other than our weekly meeting, this is the most he’s spoken to me since the rock climbing gym. His momentary sweetness was a blip, evidently.
