“Then trust me when I say,” he says softly, “number three is a mess we should avoid altogether.”
His sideways glance rakes down my body to my bare legs, which I’ve noticed are a favorite of his. I’ve caught him staring a few times, and he’s caught me staring too. There’s so much to stare at. It’s a miracle I haven’t pounced on him yet.
When he walks away toward the drywall stack, that conversation is done. Yeah. Done. Done. Done.
Does he have experience with getting involved with someone on the job? And getting burned? The way he goes about it…I don’t know. I turn my back on him too, not wanting to reveal in any way how he affects me.
By the time Tuesday rolls around and the film crew arrives at the barn, Raiden and I are rehearsed and ready for Jack and his snags. Jack is sure to bring up our little calculation error with glee. This time though, Raiden is more comfortable than ever before and gets in a few short, unrehearsed quips of his own without prompting and without stuttering.
Jack takes it all in his stride, as if we’re not the only team that was earmarked for a twist this week. He merely nods as we explain what we fixed since seeing them the previous week.
“Out of your shell at last, Raiden,” Jack says with raised eyebrows, and then scrutinize us where we stand rather close to each other. “Anything else I need to know about?”
“No.” Raiden shifts away, his whole stance telling me all he wants is for Jack and his team to be on their merry way.
I pray that Jack isn’t going to make a snarky comment about our chemistry. I don’t want to think about the chemistry. I don’t want to think about the explosive science experiment we seem to be running on the side in the barn.
In the beginning, we were at each other’s throats all the time and there wasn’t much scope for other things to develop. Now we’re working together perfectly as a team and there’s no other way to describe it—we’re perfect. I cover the admin, paperwork, and am that extra pair of hands he needs. Raiden is hands-on with everything.
Except when it comes to me. And all I want is his hands on me. I want them here, there and everywhere. Worst of all is I sense he wants it too, but he’s keeping his distance.
“No, there’s nothing,” I say. “Unless you’ve picked up something you’d like to share?” I’m tired of the past weeks’ cat-and-mouse game with Jack. If there’s anything else, he can just be upfront with it already.
“No-no. All’s good.” Jack smiles, but it’s a bit foxy. “See y’all next week.”
I watch the crew pack up and wave them goodbye, standing alone at the barn door, as Raiden is already busy at work again.
Our two-inch issue did set us back, and we’ve had to work long hours to catch up, especially when Raiden’s perfectionist streak makes him backtrack to redo something he isn’t satisfied with. There’s still too much to do even though we have contractors to do the work that needs a registered professional’s sign-off.
At the end of each day, we’re exhausted, yet Raiden always has plans. He’ll be off to see Bill and May, or to help Hunter or Derek with something, or he’ll head out to have a drink with old friends he hasn’t seen since school. He’s also helping with the Ashleigh Lake Fair preparations, which seem to have the whole Brodie and Logan family involved. If it weren’t for this, I’d think he was avoiding me. But he asks me to help and prods me to get involved, yet I cop out every time. I don’t know why I can’t go with the flow here, because he wants me to get involved in the community.
The problem is, I only want to get involved with him.
Soon we’ll start working on the detailed interior of the house, and it’s going to be much closer quarters than framing the roof and installing windows.
One thing you can’t backtrack from and fix is having sex.
Or even worse, making love with someone you’re falling for, which is what it would be in my case.
21
RAIDEN
It’s Thursday morning and we need to do that shopping trip I can’t put off any longer. I need to have this done before this weekend. After the Ashleigh Lake Fair, who knows what my mental state will be and whether I’ll be able to deal with the rest of the project with focus and a clear mind.
One thing’s for certain: I can’t drop the ball now. Not for anything.
I’m frying up our breakfast when Georgiana comes out of her room, in her usual work attire of shorts, tank top and work boots. She adds a touch of glam to everything somehow, and I’d love to see her in action in her usual work environment. Something tells me I haven’t scraped the surface of this woman’s talents yet. Maybe today she’ll get to reveal more of herself.
“We’re going on a road trip to do some shopping, so you might want to put on different shoes.” There’s no need for her to shop in steel-toe boots.
“A road trip? For shopping?”
“To Burlington. I want to sort out all the kitchen stuff and soft furnishings before the weekend.”
She’s at the coffeemaker and reaches for two mugs. We’re so domesticated, it’s as if we’ve been living together for months and not weeks.
“I thought you’d order it online,” she says.