Page 12 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

PLEASE, NOT IN MY CARHARTTS

Sebastian

She gave me a long look. Hard to define it, what with the safety goggles and all, but it wasn’t, “I can’t believe I’m running into the man of my erotic dreams once more!

” Or, of course, “Pick me up and carry me out of here like you’re whisking me out of my hard-luck life and into your alpha-male billionaire reality.

” It was only a look, though, because Howard was saying, “You know each other?”

“Sure do,” I said, because Alix still wasn’t talking. “This is Harlan, and this is Alix. Don’t use the Anastasia thing. She doesn’t like it.”

“OK,” Kristiansen said, sounding amused, which seemed to be his normal state.

“So, Alix,” Howard said, “or whatever your actual name is, explain what your crew’s doing here.”

“Pulling wire,” she said.

“Explain better,” Howard said.

“See the PVC pipe down there?” she said, pointing. “You run the pipes first out of a panel in the substation, because that’s where the power comes from. Glue them together through the runs so they hold up, because they’ll be down there forever. OK so far?”

“Got it,” Kristiansen said.

“The pipes protect the wires,” she said. “The wires come from the substation, too, obviously. You attach them there, but then you’ve got to run all that heavy wire through the pipes, because the wire’s the whole point of the deal. We have some tricks for that.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“First thing you do,” she said, “is hook up a big shop vac at the end of your run of pipe, then suck a plastic bag with heavy string tied to it through the pipe. Those flimsy plastic bags are easy to suck through a long pipe, is the idea. Once you’ve done that, you can attach a rope to the string and attach your ground wire to the rope.

That’s called making up the head. Tape the other four wires—the thick ones you see there—to the ground wire, and pull the whole bundle through, and there you are.

Repeat it about four thousand times, and you’ve got your wires in place and can pour a foundation.

I can show you the blueprints if you like. They make it pretty clear.”

“Those wires have to be an inch and a half in diameter apiece,” I said. “Six inches thick of electrical wire? Got to be heavy.”

“It is,” she said, relaxing into it more now that she was the one with the knowledge.

“Data centers take a lot of electric power. Think about how many thousands of servers they’re powering.

Aisles and aisles of them, working all the time, so you can imagine how much wire you’ve got to run for all that.

You’ve got a feeder over there—a person—that guy guiding the wire off the big spools so nothing tangles—well, two feeders right now, because one was struggling—and then that big yellow machine down here, the loud one.

That’s a tugger. Mechanical assist. It’s about working smarter, not harder.

That’s how you don’t end up with OSHA breathing down your neck.

Tugger’s expensive, but so are three people pulling wire all day, and having to replace one of them when he strains his back.

Trading money for time tends to be economically smart anyway when you’re building something you want to get up and running fast so it’ll make you the big bucks.

” She looked at the construction manager. “This what you want me explaining?”

“Alix is our newest foreman,” Howard said. “Gives you an idea of the quality of our team.”

“How many women on the job?” Kristiansen asked.

“Maybe twenty in all,” Howard said. “That’s another woman down there.

I put her on Alix’s crew because she’s new, and I thought she’d be more comfortable there.

” Alix had a sardonic look on her face again, and I wished I could ask her what that was about.

I had a feeling she’d be making me smile again.

“It’s a good crew,” was all she said, though. Again, proving she was smart. “Women don’t have the upper-body strength men do, but that isn’t everything, even on a job like this. It’s about endurance. Body positioning. Like that. Keeping up all day. And, of course, knowledge and skill.”

Howard said, “Long as they can do the work, I’ve got no problem hiring women. But it’s a physical job, and a dirty one. Most women aren’t going to be interested.”

Well, that was true. Alix had mud liberally caking the jacket and pants. Now, she swiped her cheek with the back of a glove, streaking her rain-spattered face with yet more mud, and said, “I’d better get back to it, unless you have more questions.” Not looking at me.

I said, “I have a couple of questions.”

She glanced at me sidelong. “I’ll bet you do. But I’m not on break, and we only have an hour or so before we knock off. ”

“These are investors.” Howard’s voice was sharper. “Answer his questions.”

Alix

I was not going to lose my cool. I was not.

It was the dog-food aisle all over again.

How had I got less attractive every time I’d seen him?

See, this was why my grandmother was wrong, and I was never going to inspire great passion.

It’s mighty hard to inspire passion in rubberized, insulated foul-weather work gear, boots, and goggles, and yet here I was in my Carhartts, not to mention covered in mud.

I had a feeling I’d just wiped more onto my face, but I refused to take off a glove and check.

When Sebastian had said he liked women because they were mysterious, I didn’t think he’d meant, “when they’re so dirty I can’t tell what they look like.

” At least he hadn’t said “princess.” That would really have made my life interesting here.

Wait. I looked at the other guy, who’d said almost nothing. A good 6’3”, extremely handsome, and more than extremely well built. Scruff on his gorgeous jaw and chin, and a Portland Devils ball cap under the hard hat. I’d never seen a guy that good-looking who wasn’t a model or an actor. Or?—

Oh, man. You’re kidding. There couldn’t be two men in Portland who looked like that. I said, my heart sinking, “You’re Harlan Kristiansen.”

“I am,” he said. “You’ve keenly penetrated my disguise. You don’t have to sound so disappointed about it, though.”

“You’re an NFL player,” I said. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have, uh, practice or something? Isn’t it the season? The football season?”

“Please don’t jump all over me like that in your eagerness,” Harlan said. “It’s beneath your dignity. Practice is over for the day, and I’m an investor, like the man said. Nice to meet you.”

He stuck out a hand, and I pulled off my work glove and shook it, feeling like an idiot. “But why are you—” I looked between him and Sebastian. “Oh. Investor’s day out or something. OK. I didn’t know you were an … an investor, I guess, Sebastian. You were wearing a flannel shirt!”

Sebastian looked amused, and Harlan looked more so. Howard said, his voice sharpening, “I said answer questions, not ask them. You said you had some,” he told Sebastian. “Go ahead.”

He said, “Do I get your number this time?” Which really made Howard stare at him. Howard didn’t say, “I guess there really is someone for everyone,” but only because Sebastian clearly had money.

He was wearing jeans! He drove a regular old SUV! How was I supposed to have known he was a rich guy? I wasn’t looking for rich guys! Why did I keep running into them?

Harlan, of course, laughed. Great. I told him, “Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are,” then told Sebastian, “You looked me up. You know my name.”

“I did,” Sebastian said. “There aren’t many women whose first names are ‘Anastasia Alix.’ It wasn’t hard. Not to mention the—” He cleared his throat. “Other thing.”

Harlan said, “See, I knew I should bring you along. Entertainment value all the way. I can’t wait to hear this story.”

“If you don’t have questions about the job,” Howard said, “we should probably head back, let Alix get her work done.”

He turned, but the other two guys didn’t. Sebastian, in fact, planted his feet and said, “I didn’t get an answer to my question.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I said. “You do not want my number. This is who I am. This. I’m not playing dress-up this time. This is the real me. ”

“I know,” he said. “And I want to get to know the real you. OK, you won’t give me your number. I’ll give you mine instead.” I hesitated, and he said, “Come on. Aren’t you just a little bit curious?”

“Fine,” I said, trying for lofty amusement at all the wealthy, good-looking men vying for my attention.

Since they were mythical, I didn’t succeed, but I tried.

I also pulled my phone out of my pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over.

“Only because I need to get back to work. And I want to know what happened to the dog.”

He didn’t answer, just typed something into my phone and handed it back. “Call me. We’ll have dinner. We’re good at that. I’m leaving town tomorrow for work, but I’ll be back very early Monday morning. Oh. I guess that’s Christmas. If you’re not doing anything on Christmas …”

“I have the silver dress,” I informed him, “which I’m not wearing in winter in Portland. I also have jeans and a hoodie. No clothes have yet arrived. Could be they’re burned after all.”

“Then I’ll have to take you in jeans,” he said. “I think I can just about manage it. Call me.”