Page 29 of The Risks of Reuniting (Love Connections #1)

Holt joins me and Rachelle and explains the process.

It basically involves nailing four pieces of wood to form a rectangular frame, and then attaching a piece of plywood to the frame with hinges to form a door.

It's crude and rudimentary, but I've seen enough to know that a lot of families use curtains and that this will be a step up.

My heart pinches for the millionth time, as I promise myself to never forget this experience and always live my life with gratitude.

The three of us work together with me and Rachelle holding things in place while Holt places and nails everything together.

He works quickly and efficiently, not saying much outside of directions, and it's done quicker than I would have expected.

Holt moves to the doorway of the dwelling and installs a few hinges in the jam, while Rachelle does the same thing on the door, and within another half-hour there's a working front door.

The three of us stand outside with our hands on our hips and satisfaction running through our veins. We did it. Goal accomplished.

Holt surprises me by putting an arm around my shoulders and then Rachelle's and pulling us into a sweaty group hug, his chin resting on my head as we make contact. "Couldn't have done it without the extra help," he says, squeezing us and then releasing. "Thank you so much."

Rachelle giggles and I fight off a blush. He smells warm and familiar and my skin likes the feeling of being up against him.

"We saved you guys," I say, crossing my arms across my chest. "You owe us."

Rachelle agrees. "We accept payment in ice cream cones and chocolate bars."

"Both of which I keep under my bed," Holt answers. "You're in luck. "

We chuckle and I point at the top of the tiny house. "What about the roof? It's just beams now."

Holt nods. "Cesar and I will come tomorrow and put the boards and tarp up."

His voice sounds happy, and I can see that sense of satisfaction shine through – probably because I'm feeling some of it too.

Thirty minutes later we drag ourselves through the gate of the center, arms full of tools and supplies, aching from the weight after a full day of work.

It's nearly six p.m. and dinner service starts soon.

I'm so grateful we didn't miss it, that I feel tears welling.

I need food. My arms are like rubber bands as I follow Holt to the side of the courtyard where the tools are stored in a locked shed.

Rachelle enters first, and then it's Holt's turn to empty his arms, followed by me.

Rachelle ducks out to go wash up a bit as Holt stacks his items. Finally, just when my arms are screaming to lighten my load, Holt turns back and reaches for what I'm carrying.

"You look dead on your feet," he says, taking the box I'm holding.

"It's a happy tired," I answer truthfully. "Feels good."

He nods. "You need to eat."

"That's a fact," I respond easily, running my fingers through my hair .

"You want to sit together?" he asks, and I can tell how casual he's trying to be. He's keeping his back to me, unnecessarily moving things around, his tone uber chill.

I bite at my lip. "Yeah."

He's smiling when he looks over his shoulder at me. "Yeah?"

I open my mouth to reconfirm as Cesar appears out of nowhere. "Get food and take it to the medical clinic," he instructs.

I'm not sure what he has up his sleeve, and I'm a little sad about missing out on Holt's invite to eat together, but we fall in line to do as he asks.

Holt locks up the shed behind us and we don't talk while we wash up outside of the canteen and get in line with a tray.

The food smells amazing tonight. Breaded pork, large chunks of potato, a pink something that looks like it's made of beets and some kind of dressing.

I load up and fall into step once again with Holt as we make our way over to the medical clinic.

The silence is comfortable between us. Maybe it's because we're so tired, or maybe we've worked out some kinks, but whatever it is, I'm happy.

Cesar is waiting at the clinic and we follow him past the door and around the corner into a small, fenced-in yard that I didn't know existed.

In the center of the yard are two big tubs, rectangle-shaped and filled with water.

Behind them are clotheslines, and I realize that I'm looking at the actual laundry facility for Lifting Hope.

I'd often wondered how they managed everything with one washing machine, and now I'm realizing those machines were for the volunteers. I smile at my naivety.

Rachelle is already there, looking at the tubs like an oasis in the desert – which, truly, this is.

"You're a genius," Holt laughs, smiling at Cesar .

"I put in clean water. It will be cold. Two can fit in each," Cesar says, still smiling, pleased with his offering. "You have to look at each other."

He's right. It will be tight, and cold, and the way he said we'd have to look at each other cracks me up, but as I glance at Rachelle it's clear we're on the same page. We don't care one bit.

"Let's eat and then go grab our swimsuits," Rachelle says, placing her dinner tray on a folding station nearby, and climbing up on it to sit next to her food.

I nod and put my tray near hers, climbing up myself. "Dinner and a cold tub. I've died and gone to heaven," I laugh as I dig in to my food.

We're all so hungry that we wolf down the food without much conversation, anxious to relax in the tubs and wash off the sweat of the day. Do I care that I'll essentially be sitting in a tub of Rachelle's sweat combined with mine? I do not.

With our bellies full, Rachelle and I chatter like two tweens as we hustle to our bunk room and grab our suits.

I offer to change in the bathroom and we meet back up, towels in hand, to zip back to our secret spa.

Holt and Cesar are already there, both of them in swim trunks, with no shirts on.

I do my best, I really do, to not ogle Holt, but my eyes haven't forgotten his build and they zero in before I have anything to say about it.

I scan his chest and shoulders before making my way up to his face.

He's not a bodybuilder, but he has the type of definition that comes with a life or working hard at both construction and the gym.

I catch him giving me the same once-over and it makes my cheeks heat.

"You and Cesar ready for your romantic plunge?" I tease him light-heartedly.

His smile tugs up one side and his smirk tells me he knows exactly what I was just doing with my eyes a minute ago.

"Are you trying to say there's something strange about me and Cesar sharing a tub?

Because I could trade with Rachelle and plunge with you.

" He drops his voice. "All you have to do is ask. "

I blush harder and shake my head. "Everyone knows boys have cooties."

He laughs and gingerly steps into the cold water. I hear him suck in a breath before a full smile breaks out across his handsome face and he sits down with a sigh.

"Cesar, I am your servant from this day forth," he pledges, putting his hand over his heart.

Cesar laughs as the rest of us settle into the tubs.

Rachelle and I face each other, each sitting cross-legged, with our backs against the cold, metal sides of the tub.

The water comes to just above our chests and it's chilly against my heated skin.

I can feel the sweat and grime slipping away. It's heaven.

We don't talk much as we lean our heads back to rest against the sides, and when Cesar starts softly singing a song I close my eyes.

This is paradise.