“What about your hand?” I glance down at the cut now covered by a piece of gauze. “How’s it doing?”
He raises his bandaged hand without removing his eyes from me. “The hand’s doing fine.”
“You’ve been taking care of it, right?”
He nods, those damn crystal blue eyes of his boring into mine. “Yeah, I have… What about …” He trails off. “Why are you here, Avery?”
“Uh, to build a house?” It sounds more like a question than an answer.
His lips quirk and his overwhelming stare alleviates a smidgeon. “I know that. But why are you over here with me? Because it seems like you’ve been avoiding me for the last few days.”
I feel terrible, maybe more than I should. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve just been…” I clear my throat before plastering on a smile. “But anyway. No more avoiding because you’re my boss now.”
His face contorts as he slants to the side and chucks the board he’s holding into a pile of wood. “I’m your boss?”
“Yeah, I think I’ve been banished from putting up walls and now you’re stuck with me.” I playfully bump shoulders with him, trying to be cheery Avery and nothing else. It’s difficult when his sweat ends up getting on my skin. I don’t mind as much as I probably should. “Congrats. You’re officially my babysitter.”
He chuckles under his breath then bends over to grab another board, giving me just enough time to enjoy the view of his ass. “That sounds like a fun job if you ask me.”
“I hate to break it to you, but it’s not,” I tell him as he stands upright. “I really, really suck at this whole building thing.” I cup my hand around the side of my face and lower my voice a notch. “I’m going to tell you a secret but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.”
He plays along, jokingly peering around before inching closer, his gaze noticeably flickering to my lips for a searing instant. “I swear my lips are sealed.”
I catch a hint of his scent—soap, sweat, and cigarettes—and I discreetly breathe in the wonderful unfamiliarity of it before whispering, “I’ve never built anything before.”
His expression remains neutral. “Yeah, I kind of figured as much considering the stories I’ve heard about you.”
My jaw drops as I move away. “Mister Asshole has been talking about me, hasn’t he?”
He shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter.” He positions the board up on the table then roughly drags his fingers through his damp hair, leaving strands sticking up all over the place. “Half the people around here haven’t built anything. In fact, I was that way when I first started.”
I place a hand on my hip and elevate my brows. “Did you search the internet to find out how exactly to hammer in a nail?”
Laughter bubbles from his lips and despite the fact that I have a no guys rule, I note just how great of a laugh he has. “No, but that’s cute.” He winks at me.
“Hey, no mocking me or my incompetence.” I laugh with him, feeling tingly inside from the wink. It’s been so long since the tingles showed up I’d almost forgotten what they feel like.
And how frightening they can be.
I promptly stop laughing and panic instead.
Tristan must sense my anxiety because he randomly changes the subject. “So if you want, I can go have a little chat with Mister Asshole,” he says. “That’s what you call him, right?”
I nod, settling down. “Yeah, that would be the very fitting nickname I gave him. I almost went with Mr. Short Guy Douche Bag because he seems to suffer from the short guy complex.” I stretch my arm into the air, grinning. “I think he might be a little jealous because I can reach higher than him.”
Tristan snorts a laugh. “Or maybe it’s because he secretly thinks you’re hot and he’s one of those guys that is still mean to the girls he likes.”
“Ew.” I swat his shoulder, making him laugh even harder. “He’s like in his thirties and short and hairy and gross. He even took his shirt off the other day and he had hair all over his back like this long.” I lift my hand and hold my finger and thumb about an inch apart. “I seriously think he might be part werewolf.”
Tristan starts laughing again and I’ll admit I am too. A tiny part of me feels bad that our entertainment comes from mocking Mister Asshole, but not enough to stop the fun.
“Maybe if you brought a razor, you could shave it off for him,” Tristan suggests through his chuckling. “He could have a fetish for that and maybe that’s why he was showing off his back to you, hoping you’d bite the bait.”
I make gagging sounds through my laughter. “Oh my God, stop! I’m going to throw up if you don’t!” Tears sting at my eyes, happy tears. I suddenly realize it’s been a while since I laughed this hard.
“So you’re not into the back hair shaving thing.” He rubs his scruffy jawline thoughtfully. “I’ll have to make a mental note of that.”
“Why?” I ask, wiping my tears away with my fingers. “You don’t have a hairy back.”
“Maybe it’s because I shave it.”
I roll my eyes. “You do not. I can tell.”
His lips quirk. “How so?”
“Because I’ve looked and there’s no stubble.”
“Are you saying you’ve been checking me out?” He’s all grins and cockiness now.
“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” I say with a defeated sigh, unable to eliminate the smile from my face.
Suddenly someone clears their throat from behind me. Tristan’s attention darts over my shoulder and I whirl around then shuffle backwards. Mister Asshole is standing close to me with a power drill in his hand and a stone cold expression on his round face.
“This is a work place, girlie,” he says, staring icily at me. “Not a place to flirt. Make yourself useful for once instead of distracting everyone or get in your car and go home where you belong.”
“Bite me,” I retort, flustered like I was the other day when he yelled at me. “And it’s Avery, not girlie.”
“Who cares?” he replies. “You’re all the same.”
I want to ask him who he’s referring to, but I’m fairly certain his talking about the female population, being very sexist right now. My tongue burns with a thousand rude remarks to throw back in his face, but Tristan steps up to the side of me, his fingers brushing against the small of my back, causing me to jump. Then I swear to God my knees almost give out.