Page 28 of The Risks of Reuniting (Love Connections #1)

Chloe

I'm a lousy construction worker – it's official.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm a pampered princess – because I do work hard – but I have an apparent inability to operate a hammer and nail, and I did not know my body could sweat this much.

I'm sure I've wasted more nails than I should have, and I'm adding it all up in my head so that tomorrow I can get a ride down the hill to a supply store and purchase an entire caseload to replace it.

Rachelle has teased me endlessly, and typically I hate being bad at something, but somehow it's funny and I'm able to join in the joke.

I've been told all my life that the best cure for what ails you is to get to work helping other people, and it's a lesson I've learned well this month. I've been hammering for hours now, and haven't thought much about any of my issues in the meantime. It's freeing.

Right after breakfast this morning, Rachelle and I headed up the hillside with Cesar and Holt to finish work on their last house.

When I'd asked Rachelle about possible dental emergencies, she'd winked and told me to fugheddaboudit in a mobster accent.

When I pressed, she told me that she and Dr. J were scheming and to drop it.

So I dropped it with a slight smile.

They'd managed to finish that sleeping loft after another all-day effort on Friday, and now we're working on buoying up a flat roof and some interior wall supports on the small structure next door.

The long-sleeved shirt I'd put on this morning is draped over a pallet in the corner, and my navy blue tank top is sticking to my sides with sweat.

I'm grateful for short hair that I can keep out of my face, because watching Rachelle fight with hers has been amusing.

The magical hair isn't so magical today.

Holt is up on a ladder hammering away at the beams of wood resting on the outer walls.

I'm told the beams will eventually be covered with plywood and then tarping to create a roof and ceiling.

It's basic, but better than some of the other options up here.

His face is serious in his concentration.

Cesar is cutting wood for the framing, and Rachelle is holding those cut pieces of wood while I hammer them up against existing wall studs to reinforce them.

It's a good thing that most of these structures are only fourteen feet by fourteen feet, because anything larger and I would have to bow out, afraid I'd make it fall down.

It's also a good thing that I'm hammering wood to already existing wood, and not designing this thing from the ground up.

I've come face-to-face with my lack of knowledge today.

A bead of sweat trickles down between my shoulder blades as my arm swings.

"How many hits will it take to nail it?" Rachelle sings a little ditty she's made up, and then counts as I hammer. "One, two, three . . ."

I laugh. "Stuff it. Your hair has lost its magic."

She smirks down at me, but keeps singing. "Four, five." She gives a little cheer as the nail head is finally flush with the board. "You're getting better."

I laugh again and move up the board. "This is depressing."

"Hey, only positive thoughts allowed," Rachelle reminds me for the fiftieth time .

"I'm positive I'm getting worse." I gesture to bent nails that I can't pull from the wood. "These should have stopped happening hours ago."

She nods and swipes at her hair with dirty fingertips, leaving a streak across her brow. "Probably."

"Remind me why you aren't nailing the boards while I hold them?" I ask.

"Because this trip is about self-improvement, and I'm already great at DIY projects." She makes a face.

I can't argue, because she nailed up the first seven boards across a wall and did it like a pro. Is she bad at anything? It might be possible to dislike her if she wasn't so dang nice.

"It's a miracle I managed to get through dental hygiene school," I joke.

"Yes," Rachelle teases, "thank goodness nailing teeth isn't a modern dental practice."

Cesar carries in a long, cut board and leans it against the wall where the two corners meet. His white tank is as sweaty as mine, and he takes off his hat to wave it at his face.

"Last one," he says on a breath.

I look up and smile. "Really?"

"Yes," he smiles back. "Then we do the door."

"The door?" Rachelle and I question together. "What door?"

"Exactly," Holt laughs as he climbs down the ladder. "There isn't one. We need to build one and put it in place."

My eyes rake over him. Is there anything more attractive than a guy in a backwards cap and scruff covering his chin, all sweaty from hard work?

I've stolen more than my fair share of looks.

My body has stopped asking my mind if Holt is green-lit for attraction, and just gone ahead and remembered how much she likes him.

It's distracting at best, bewildering at worst. How does this man make his jeans fit so well?

And his arms . . . He must have been hitting the gym this year.

I yank my eyes away and stand, turning my back to him as I stretch my arms over my head, leaning side to side to loosen my sore muscles.

"Not it on building the door," I joke when my twitterpation is over and I can face him again. "Unless you want it to fall off the house the first time they use it."

Holt's eyes dance with amusement as he looks over the wood I've been nailing. "You're getting better."

I point at him with a laugh. "Do not patronize me, Senor Alvarez. We both know I'm terrible."

Rachelle grins and takes the hammer from me. She quickly nails in the last two nails on the board we've been installing, and it's done before I realize what's happened. She meets my eyes and gives a slow wink and my jaw drops.

"You're a snake for making us all suffer at my slower pace," I blow out.

"It was fun." She shrugs.

I shake my head and chuckle. "You're the worst."

"You're building new skills, and I'm your master teacher," she pulls a face and I roll my eyes.

"I hope you know you cost Lifting Hope like fifty dollars in nails," I retort.

"You're good for it," she cracks as she moves to set the hammer in the bucket of tools that's sitting in the center of the room. "Drink break," she calls, and we all leave the tiny dwelling to go sit in the shade outside and open our jugs of water.

The water is warm now, but I don't mind. It's wet and that's all that matters. Cesar closes his eyes and leans back against the building, and I'm happy to listen as Rachelle lobs questions toward him about his life .

"How did you learn construction?" she asks.

"My grandfather. I live with him and he teaches me," Cesar replies.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty."

"Thirty?" Rachelle hollers, and I laugh. "I've been thinking you were younger than me."

"How old are you?" Cesar opens one eye to look at her.

"Twenty-eight."

Now it's my turn to gasp. "You are not!"

Rachelle gives me a few eyebrow raises and smiles big. "I am. Thanks for being shocked."

"I age good too." Cesar mimics Rachelle's eyebrow raises and we all laugh.

The subject changes to Holt talking through the door plans, and on to other building projects he'd like to finish.

I rest my head back against the rough side of the house and close my eyes, willing a breeze to come.

I can't believe this is our third weekend here.

We have only one week left and we go our separate ways, hoping others are coming to continue the work.

It's been an incredible experience, and I can fully understand why Dr. J signed up for three months.

A month has gone so fast, and I feel like I could do more than I'll get to do.

"I'd kill for a swim," Rachelle sighs, and I hear her swallow from her jug. "Something to cool off and wash away the sweat and grim."

"You're sweaty?" I tease. "I'm over here fresh as a daisy."

Rachelle giggles. "I can only hope to learn your ways." She sighs. "Seriously, Holt, are there pools around here?"

"No," he answers, and I can hear the disappointment in his voice. "Swimming does sound nice."

"What about the ocean?" I ask. "We are on the coast. "

"It would take a long time to get there, but, yeah, we could hire a car to take us," he responds.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about that option," I state, opening my eyes and tilting my head his direction.

Rachelle sits between us, but our eyes meet and he shrugs. "It sounds like a lot of work."

"And work is not what we're looking for more of," I mope.

"I have an idea," Cesar slaps his hands against his legs. "Can the chicas help with the door and I will go see? The wood is cut."

Holt nods. "We only have the door left and don't need four of us for that."

It feels like Cesar should be one of the three of who remain, but he stands and dusts off his pants before grabbing his water and food wrappers left from lunch hours ago and heading down the hillside.

I watch him go with a lazy, content smile on my face.

My body is tired and warm, but I feel good about helping build a home for a family in need.

After a few more minutes Holt stands and offers one hand to both me and Rachelle.

Rachelle goes first, and when it's my turn, I take it and allow him to tug me to my feet.

In a moment of courage, I don't slow my forward momentum, and end up nearly pressed up against him.

I flatten the hand he isn't holding against his chest and smile up at him.

He's surprised at first, but then his gaze warms, and I see Rachelle move away silently in my side vision.

"Sorry," I whisper.

His free hand lands on my waist, but he doesn't pull me close and I don't move either.

"It's all good," he breathes .

I smile at him and then step back, moving to the area where Cesar had stacked the cut wood while trying to pretend that my heart isn't going double time.