“Your brother needs some lessons in how to treat women.”
Mandy smiled. “I don’t think I count in his book.”
He twisted the lid back on the bottle. “Sister or not, he needs some lessons.”
“For Marc, the playing field is even at work. If I want my own crew someday, I have to be willing and able to do it all.”
“You really want to work on site?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. So,” she started, ready to change the subject. “Did your old girlfriend stand up for herself? Or was she a wimp?”
He let out a sharp grunt and screwed the lid back on the water bottle. “Wimp.”
“Ah.” Mandy nodded.
He leaned over and put the nearly-empty bottle back inside the cooler. “I’m not the wimp type.” Then he stood upright, hands on his hips, gaze meeting hers. “But I’ve been stupid.”
“Not stupid,” she corrected, hating that he would think so about himself. “Blinded maybe.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”
“It’s okay as long as you learned something from it, and I don’t mean being extreme and abstaining from all females because that’s the easy way around it.”
His eyes narrowed some. “You think it’s easy?”
“Ignoring’s easy. Conquering is something else.”
His tongue wet his lips. He studied her and didn’t say anything for what seemed like endless minutes. Mandy hoped she hadn’t been too bold, but she never tailored her words to fit guys.
“You have a boyfriend?” he asked.
“Not currently.”
“But you’ve had one.”
“Sure,” she shrugged. They’d been short little flings, the longest lasted about a month, but they counted.
“Any of the guys start out one way and morph into something else?”
There was bite in his tone. Old anger. “No. Not really.”
“Then you were smarter than me.” His hands slipped to his sides, a look of hurt and defeat passed over his face. Mandy had the urge to reach out and touch his cheek and tell him everything was going to be all right.
“Girls can be two-faced.” She was mad at whoever had hurt him. “Manipulating witches,” she went on, voice rising. “We’re not all that way. I hope you—”She stopped herself. What she wanted was for him to heal and give women another chance. Give her a chance. But those thoughts remained safely tucked away. The look in his eyes was guarded, as if they stood on opposite sides of a raging river and she held the only rope. She wondered if she threw it to him, would he catch it and hold on or let it fall into the river.
He let out a breath. “That’s why I’m taking a break from women.”
Mandy swallowed a thick knot. He sounded so resigned. Rather than try to talk him out of it, she nodded.
“Good thinking.”
She looked around for a trash box because she needed to throw away the empty water bottle, but also because she didn’t want him to see disappointment on her face. It was obvious he was set on this course of abstinence.
Random boxes could be found all over a construction site, and she found the nearest one and tossed her empty bottle into it, a pitch of frustration behind it. Did he have to be so determined? Couldn’t he be weak like every other male on the planet and give into the basic animal inside?
She looked at him again. He stood watching, as if waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. She swallowed. His vow was going to be a lot harder on her than on him.
“Hey you two,” Marc called. Both of their heads snapped around to the stairs. Marc was halfway down, dipping so he could see them. A big grin spread on his face. Mandy flushed and glanced at Boston who scratched the back of his head before starting back over to the stairs.
“I was just getting a drink.” Boston took the stairs up.
“No problem,” Marc’s grin deepened. “You’re entitled.”
Mandy watched Boston’s tanned, muscled legs until they vanished upstairs. She let out a sigh. Looking pleased as the Cheshire cat Marc wagged his brows at her then disappeared to the second level.
• • • • •
By late afternoon they had one quarter of the second floor exterior walls framed. The baking sun inched down the westerly sky with no breeze to cut the air, ripening with the smell of sweat and dirt and wood.
Mandy held a four-by-six in place while A.J secured the base of it. Larry’s rock music was still pounding, as if competing with the hammers and nail guns. Her temples started to throb.
“Could we change the music?” she called over her shoulder. “I think we’ve listened to this, what, about fifty times now? I’ve got a headache.”
“Don’t have anything else,” Larry hollered back.
“Side’s it’s mood music.”
Mandy looked over where he and Marc mirrored what she and A.J. were doing. Larry said something to Marc, scratched his butt crack and let out a laugh.
Mandy shook her head. “I don’t even want to think about what those two are discussing.”
With each of A.J.’s hammer, pounds vibrated through her hands and arms.
“Yup. Sweet little thing like you shouldn’t even know about stuff like that.”
Mandy looked down at A.J. crouched at her feet, the red bandana on his head wrapped tight over his caramel hair, and thought of her Boston fantasy. A.J.
wasn’t on his knees, but he was at her feet, securing the post. His back was thicker with muscles than Boston’s, but just as smooth. His shoulders, wide and powerful, bunched and eased with every movement. A tiny red flower was tattooed on his left deltoid.
“Nice tattoo.”
A.J. let out a laugh-grunt. “Not sure how nice it is.”
“It’s a flower. At least it’s not something obnoxious.
When did you get it?”
“After high school.” One more hard slam of the hammer and he stood. She hadn’t noticed how close they were working because he’d been down at her feet. Now, his chest was inches from hers. His green eyes crinkled into a grin.
She took a deep breath, filling her senses with his sweat, the natural scent of his skin and the comforting smells of the site.
He lifted his arm, and looked at the tattoo. “A mistake.”
“Must have been a girl,” she said.
He considered her answer and his eyes sharpened.
“A woman, yeah.”
Mandy was intrigued by the mysterious tattoo and the story. When he moved to pick up another four-by-six, she stayed on his tail. “So, what happened?”
He carried the piece over to the inside wall they were constructing and they fitted it into place. “She wanted it to remind me of her.”
“That’s not altogether unreasonable.” Mandy held the piece in place while he dug into his belt for nails. The smile he normally wore slipped away.
“Not for her.” His eyes slit some. “But the relationship didn’t last, and now I have the tattoo forever.” He dropped down and started hammering. His biceps bulged like fists ready to strike. The little flower stretched and swayed with the movement of his skin.
“Did you love her?” Mandy almost slapped herself.
Why would she ask such a question?
He didn’t even break rhythm hammering. “Thought I did.”
“Why else would you brand yourself?” she murmured.
He looked up, his eyes a flickering puzzle in green and gold. He stood again, staying close. “Branding.”
A low chuckle slid from his lips. Wide, firm lips, Mandy noticed, over brilliant white teeth. “You women can get us to do anything you want, you know that don’t you?”
He reached up and hammered the top of the piece into place.
Her body suddenly filled with a thousand fireflies, scrambling for a way out. “Hold it steady there.” His voice was kind, even though she knew very well she’d lost her grip. She couldn’t help it. He was so close, she felt so small and…female.
“Sorry,” she muttered, shu
ddering.
“No problem.” He glanced over. “You cold, baby doll?”
“No.” But she shuddered again.
She and A.J. finished by the time the sun finally slid behind the low, western mountain range, throwing purple-orange shadows out in blessed streams that cooled the air. Because Marc and Larry had plans, they’d finished earlier and now waited by the truck in their red Haynes shirts. Their laughter bounced through the framed rooms. Boston, Mandy noticed, had worked solo most of the afternoon, slowly framing in a section across from where she and A.J. had spent the day.
“Let’s hustle up!” Marc called from the truck.
“Almost done, boss.” A.J. wore a wide grin as he placed the last four-by-six into place. Mandy held the wood firm. “So, is it just you and Marc?” he asked, squatting down to hammer.
“Just us. What about you? You said you had sisters, right?”
A.J. hammered. “Four.”
“That explains why you know women so well.”
A.J. chuckled. “You’d think, but sometimes I’m no smarter than the next guy.”
“Women and sisters are a different breed,” Mandy said, and casually looked across at Boston. He had to hear their conversation. The music was over, thankfully, and he was too close not to catch what they were saying even if he did appear to be politely ignoring it. “I’m amazed at you guys. You’ve all seriously lost your heads over somebody.”
A.J.’s laugh filled the warm air. He drove another nail in and looked over at Boston. “That’s true enough, wouldn’t you say, Charlie?”
Boston shrugged but didn’t look up. “Unfortunately.”
He pulled the trigger and fired off another nail.
“It’s a weakness of the male species,” Mandy told them matter-of-factly. “You’re built to break.”
A.J.’s hearty laugh rumbled the framing. He stood.
“That’s for sure.” His finger skimmed the tip of Mandy’s nose. “Pretty perceptive, baby doll. Where’d you get all this insight?”
Mandy lifted a shoulder, keeping an occasional glance angled at Boston who stood wiping the saw dust from his hands. His dark eyes locked on the two of them.
“Eighteen years of being female will teach you a few things.”
“More than a few things,” A.J. laughed. “You don’t mind that I call you baby doll, do you?” he asked, picking up a nail that had dropped.
“Not at all.”
“Let’s pack it up so your brother can get out of here.” A.J. started over toward the stairs.
“So he and Larry can go hunting?” Mandy joked as she followed him.
A.J. turned a grin over his shoulder. Mandy’s fingers flew to her lips when she figured out the double entendre.
Guys have any and all things relating to women on the brain twenty-four-seven, she mused. Or maybe it was just because it was nearing dinner and thoughts slid to hunger.
“You want to go get something to eat?” she asked.
A.J. was two steps below her on the rickety stairs. Once he hit the main floor, he extended his hand. “Thanks.” She took the last three stairs with his hand steadying her.
When she reached the main floor, A.J. yanked the red bandana from his head and scrubbed his hair. “Can’t tonight.”
“Another time then.” Mandy reached down where she’d left their folded shirts and picked up both A.J.’s and Boston’s. She held out A.J.’s “You like Mexican food?”
A.J. took the shirt. “Well enough.” He slipped it overhead.
“My friends and I hang at this really fun place on State Street called Bajio.”
“I’ve eaten there.” A.J. ran his fingers through his hair.
“Great food and it picks up at night with music. No drinking though.” Mandy tapped his shoulder playfully.
“And no picking up women. It’d be perfectly safe for you and your tattoo.”
A.J. gave a slow blink, the corners of his mouth inching up. Mandy couldn’t read the look on his face, and that confused her. He reached out a hand and skimmed it along her cheek. “It’s not my safety I’m worried about.”
Mandy’s heart skipped. Her cheek tingled where he’d touched it. She stuffed her hands in her back pockets and glanced around. Boston stood a few feet away, statue-still, a curious gaze pointed right at them.
The air swarmed with feisty currents. Mandy felt caught in the middle of something she wasn’t sure of. She looked from Boston to A.J. whose green eyes narrowed; flicking from her to Boston.
“Ah,” Mandy began, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Bajio’d even be safe for you, Boston.” She strolled over, casually swinging her arms. “No chance of tipping you off that pedestal. Promise.”
His eyes were still on A.J. The air was still thick. Neither man spoke or moved, and beads of perspiration burst all over Mandy’s body. What the heck was this all about?
Finally, a lazy grin broke the tight line of A.J.’s lips.
“I’ll take a rain check on that, baby doll.” He started toward the truck. “You can count on it,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“Okay,” she said. “Great.”
Mandy watched him join Marc and Larry at the back of the truck and let out a huff of confusion. “Huh.”
Then she turned her attention to Boston who looked tight as a piece of sheathing. Cautiously she held out the folded tee shirt. “Your shirt.”
He plucked it from her hands. “Thanks.”
“So, you want to go grab something to eat?” she asked while he slipped it on. The garment skimmed down the bones and muscles of his chest and back, fluttering into place. “I’m starving.”
“I can’t,” he bit out. “Maybe another time.”
“Oh. Well, another night. Sure.”
“Yeah.”
“Something wrong?”
He let out a snort. “Forget it.” And started in the direction of the car. Mandy followed him. Darkness seeped into the air like black ink, shadowing his eyes, the rigid contours of his cheeks and jaw.
“Did I say something?” Heck if she wasn’t totally lost.
“If you don’t like Mexican, just say so,” she joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Mexican’s fine,” he said.
“Oh. Good.”
His boots dug into the dirt beneath their feet, creating thudding sounds. Her boots tapped lightly next to his. They both reached the truck at the same time and Mandy noticed the fast hush of voices, the way A.J.
watched Boston with a keenness that was raw and male.
Boston returned the look, jerking his tool belt loose.
Marc’s grin was too big and too pleased, and Larry stood there looking like he’d just won a week with the goddess of the month. Mandy unbuckled her belt without saying a word. Something was cooking in the air and it simmered with testosterone.
chapter six
Mandy sat on the couch she and Cam usually occupied whenever they had a book store night. A pile of architectural books lay piled on her lap and at her side but she hadn’t opened one. She couldn’t stop thinking about the vibe she’d felt between A.J. and Boston.
Next to her, Cam had a pile of romance books equally as impressive as her collection of reading material. His nose was deep into Three to Tango. On the cover was a couple dancing.
She wondered if Boston danced.
It was easy to picture him in all black, like the guy on the cover of the book, shirt open, sleek pants like a second skin. To be in his arms, to have him look into her eyes like she was his, moving her across the dance floor to the tango beat… A tingling storm wound through her.
But that would never happen. He was stonier than a cornerstone. There was no way to penetrate that level of commitment. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
There was something skanky about setting out to bring somebody down for your own pleasure. She had to resign herself to the fact that the timing was off. She and Boston were never going to be anything but working teammates.
&n
bsp; Cam let out a low moan, and Mandy glanced around. “Keep it down,” she whispered.