4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Tasha
The alarm on my phone starts blaring at five a.m., and I’m out of bed in a flash, noticing that the sun hasn’t even risen outside yet when I enter the bathroom.
Despite my stomach feeling like twelve snakes tangled together, a jumbled mess of nerves and excitement, I’m not about to be late on my first day.
I yawn. Opening my suitcase, I pull out a pair of jeans and a tank top and throw a flannel over it. Jasmine loaned me the flannel. She said it’d make me look like I belonged there.
Sitting on the open sofa bed I lace up my brand-new steel-toed boots, the ones I splurged on last night after getting the job.
They’re stiff and uncomfortable, but they make me feel like I can take on anything, and I hope to break them in over time.
The drive to the site is quiet, with barely any cars on the road and the sky slowly lightening into shades of gray and pink as ripples of orange break over the eastern horizon.
When I get to the Thorne and Thorne job site I was told to arrive at, the place is already buzzing, workers milling around in hard hats, trucks pulling in, and the deep scent of fresh earth and concrete in the air.
I spend what feels like hours watching demonstrations on how to spot hazards, how to lift things properly, and how to use a fire extinguisher, just in case.
I fill out a mountain of orientation paperwork, and by the time I’m done, I’m convinced I’m never going to see the actual site itself.
But then, finally, I’m out of the stuffy room in the temporary building, squinting at the bright morning sun and stepping onto the job site. I look around, taking in the noise, the energy.
It’s like a whole different world. And honestly? It’s fun. I’m used to being on my feet all day as a waitress, and I never really thought getting a desk job was right for me. I just didn’t know there were jobs like this out there to go after.
Mr. Thorne’s words float through my mind. “Because I don’t just sit behind a desk, like hardly ever. I’m always out on job sites.”
I can’t help but steal a few glances at Brody as we start working on tasks together. He’s got this rugged, no-nonsense look to him, and I’m not gonna lie, he’s hot.
He’s not just hot, though. Hot almost feels like an understatement. It’s more like he’s way hotter than any boss has the right to be.
But he’s also sharp. He knows his stuff inside out, and from the way the crews talk about him, it’s clear they respect him.
It’s all very cool, even if it makes me feel a little out of my depth sometimes. Any time I have those doubts about myself though, I just remind myself that all jobs feel this way when you’re new. In a year or two, I’ll be doing this with my eyes closed.
At one point, muttering something about needing the right kind of screwdriver, I see him sorting through a toolbox. He’s rummaging through different compartments, and I step in, picking out a Phillips head from the pile.
“You mean this one?” I ask, holding it out.
“Yeah, that’s it. How’d you know which one?” He raises an eyebrow, looking a little surprised.
“Growing up broke, I had to learn how to fix my own things. Couldn’t afford to pay someone to do it or to buy new things very often.” I shrug, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“That’s handy,” he says, giving me a grin. “Might have to put you to use more often.”
He nods like he’s impressed, and I feel a little thrill at that.
I laugh gently, but inside, I’m glowing like a giant star.
There’s something so satisfying about proving I’m not just some clueless girl.
Maybe I can actually be good at this…
The rest of my first day is a whirlwind. First, we drive around from one job site to another, checking on progress, talking to the foremen, making sure everyone has what they need.
I get introduced to multiple crews, each a group of guys with rough hands and even rougher jokes. They look me up and down with morbid curiosity when Brody introduces me, their expressions steeped in doubt.
One of them, a thick, burly guy named Dave, smirks at me with a condescending glance. “Think you can lift just one bag of cement, sweetheart?” he asks, nodding at a fifty-pound bag on the ground. There’s a challenge in his brown eyes, and I know he’s expecting me to shake my head and back down.
I’m not about to give him the satisfaction, though.
And I never back down.
So, I walk over, bend my knees into a squat position, and hoist the bag up before walking it over and dropping it at Dave’s big feet.
It’s heavier than I expected, but I keep my face steady, not letting it show. “You mean like that?” I ask, my voice light and airy.
There’s a moment of silence before Dave breaks out into a cheesy grin. “All right, I see you,” he says, tipping his hard hat at me.
The other guys chuckle and murmur amongst themselves, and I can tell I’ve earned a little bit of respect.
I feel Brody’s electric gaze on me, and I see there’s an amused glint in his eye.
The day goes on like that: me trying to prove I can handle whatever they throw at me, and them testing me.
To be honest though, in a way, it feels more like they’re welcoming me into the fold than trying to push me out. Like by having me do these menial tasks, I’m proving my weight in their world.
Construction is dangerous and tough, I kind of get that they have to vet me to some degree to make sure I’m not going to sit and sulk on the ground because I chipped a nail.
There are a few moments throughout the day when things feel like they could get…steamy. Like when Brody leans over to point out something on a blueprint, and his thick arm brushes against me, or when we’re walking side by side and our hands almost touch.
I know to keep it professional, but I can’t ignore the way my heart skips a beat whenever he looks at me like I’ve surprised or pleased him.
The sun is low on the horizon by the time we’re driving back to the office from the last site, bathing everything around us in a warm, orange glow.
The truck is quiet, the radio playing softly, and Brody glances over at me. I feel a surge of excitement every time his warm, maple-colored eyes turn to me.
“So,” he says, his voice casual and smooth, “what do you want to do with your life, Tasha? I mean, long term.”
I pause, mulling over the question. In all fairness, I wasn’t expecting it, and now I feel on the spot to say something impressive or lofty. Instead, I find myself answering honestly.
“I want to get out of this loop my parents have always been in,” I say, staring out the window. “I really want to go to college. I don’t want to be stuck, you know? Working dead-end jobs, married to someone I’m just…settling for. I don’t want any of that.”
He nods, understanding crossing his gorgeous face. His eyes still look down the road, but I can see him listening to me. “Sounds like you’ve thought a lot about it.”
“I have,” I admit. “I just need to figure out how to make it happen. And what exactly I want to go for. Something where I can make some real money, though. Finance, accounting…I dunno…something that I can give the life I never had to my future children.”
There’s this thoughtful look on Brody’s face but he doesn’t say anything, and it makes me wonder what he’s thinking.
“I can’t help with all of that,” Brody finally says, glancing over at me as he drives. A smile stretches across his face. “But if college is something you want, the company has programs that can help. We support employees who want to get their degrees.”
I blink a few times, trying to process what he’s saying.
For a second, I don’t believe it.
But he just keeps looking at me with this steady, sincere expression, and my chest suddenly feels like it’s going to burst, like a balloon someone keeps pumping air into.
College has always been this hazy, impossible dream: something other people get to do, not me. But now, hearing him say that, it feels like there’s this door slowly creaking open.
It feels like I might actually be able to step through it and follow my heart.
“Seriously?” I ask, my voice a little breathless. My eyes stare at him with anticipation.
“Seriously,” he says, nodding. An amused smile curls in the corner of his perfect lips. “If you’re interested, we can talk more about it.”
“Yeah, I’m interested.” I can’t help the huge grin spreading across my face as I reply, trying not to sound too eager but failing miserably.
When we pull into the office parking lot, he doesn’t turn the engine off right away.
Instead, he looks over at me, his dark eyes catching the last bit of light from the sunset. “How about we grab some dinner instead of heading straight home?” he says, and I feel a flutter in my stomach.
“Yeah, okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, even though my nerves are exploding within me. I’m excited and nervous. I’m suddenly very aware of how close we are in the truck, the way his voice gets a little softer when he talks to me, the way his eyes keep looking over my body.
The drive to the bar is more relaxed, and there’s this flirty banter between us. I feel like I’m laughing at every little joke he makes, even the dumb ones. I know I probably look like some silly schoolgirl with the way I keep giggling, and it’s starting to annoy me a little.
I shouldn’t be acting like this, no matter how hot he is.
I mean, come on, this is my boss.
But then he looks into my eyes again, and there’s this spark. It’s like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and it sends a little jolt right down my spine each time.
I can feel the warmth on my cheeks as we pull up to the diner and bar. I’m trying to look out the window and convince myself to relax, but our chemistry is palpable.
We’re outside one of those classic Midwestern dive bars, complete with a flickering neon sign that reads, “Dale’s”, and a gravel parking lot dotted with pickup trucks and motorcycles. There’s nothing fancy about it, but it’s got that warm, familiar look.
Brody parks, and we walk inside together, the gravel crunching under our boots. I steal another quick glance at him. He’s got this casual, confident way about him. Even his walk drips with confidence.
It’s like he fits in everywhere, and I suddenly feel a little giddy just being there with him. Again, I have to remind myself to keep my cool. I catch myself smiling and look away at the setting sun, trying to act relaxed, but it’s no use.
“Hope this place isn’t too nice for you,” he jokes, and I laugh, smacking him gently with the back of my hand.
Every time I think I’ve got a handle on the way he makes me feel, he makes me laugh again and throws me off completely.
Inside, the bar is warm and a little noisy, with a soft, low hum of classic country music playing in the background. The walls are decorated with old saloon-style wood paneling. There’s also a pair of longhorn horns, faded pictures of bull riders, and license plates from every state mounted all over the place.
There’s a big wooden mantle over the bar with vintage whiskey bottles lined up like trophies, and the lighting is dim, giving everything a kind of golden, crystally glow.
It smells like fried food, beer, and wood polish. It’s all comforting and familiar despite me not having been here ever.
We grab two stools at the bar, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are, our shoulders almost touching. Brody notices it, too, his eyes flicking down to my shoulder, but he gives me a warm smile that makes me suddenly feel very hot .
The bartender, a bearded guy who looks like he could swing a sledgehammer all day, nods at Brody in recognition. “The usual, whiskey neat? And for you, miss?” he asks, and Brody nods before looking over at me.
“I’ll have a rum and coke,” I say, and I reach for my purse to pull out my card, but Brody stops me with a hand on mine.
“I’ve got it,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “This is a celebration, right? Your first day. I can’t have you pay. You’re my new employee.”
I hesitate, pushing my card back into my wallet, feeling a mix of gratitude and a little discomfort. Still, I let him pay, and when the drinks come, I lift mine up, giving him a small smile. “To new beginnings, I guess,” I say, and he clinks his glass against mine gently.
We start talking, and I’m surprised at how easy it is to slip into conversation with him. He tells me about bringing up Josh as a single dad when Josh’s mom and he split up. He says how he’s proud to be running the company with his son, and I can tell there’s a lot of love there.
It makes him seem more...human, somehow.
Like he’s not just my boss.
We order food, and it’s nothing fancy, just burgers and fries, but it smells amazing when it arrives, all greasy and perfect. It’s just the kind of meal you need after a long day of hard work.
The first bite I take is better than I expected, and I’m surprised. It’s probably one of the best things I’ve tasted in weeks.
“This burger is really good,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin.
“Oh yeah,” Brody comments. “There’s a reason I brought you here. Getting my hands on one of these was the main reason,” he jokes.
“Was that your only reason?” I ask, feeling my eyes search his face, and the smirk that comes over his lips nearly brings me to my knees.
Uh oh.
We keep talking, and it’s like the conversation keeps slipping deeper, without either of us really trying. I ask him about his life. He’s careful about what he says, but not totally closed off.
He talks about growing up in the construction business, marrying a girl from the same town, having Josh.
“We grew apart,” he says, and there’s this kind of resignation in his voice, like he’s used to explaining it that way. “We wanted different things, I guess. She moved on. She never really wanted kids, and I focused on Josh and the business.”
It’s clear he doesn’t usually share much about himself, but still, I’m enraptured by him. I want to know everything about him.
I ask him what he wants in the future, and he pauses, like he’s not sure how to answer.
“I’m not unhappy,” he finally says, and it sounds almost like a question.
“There’s nothing you feel that you’re missing?”
“Well, I mean, I’m not going to act like I live a perfect life. I just…you know, haven’t figured everything out yet.”
We finish our drinks, and he pays. We head back out to the truck. The night air is cool, and there’s this quiet that settles over us as we walk.
I’m still thinking about what he said, about not being unhappy, when I suddenly stumble over a crack in the pavement. Before I can catch myself, Brody’s hands shoot out, steadying me.
His hands wrapped around my waist. He’s caught me before I fell, and our eyes meet before he lets me go.
“Easy there,” he murmurs, but there’s this charged moment like we’re both waiting for something to happen.
And then it does.
He leans down and kisses me, soft and slow, like he’s been thinking about it all night.
I can’t think, can’t breathe. I can only feel the warmth of his lips against mine and his hand firm on my arm, holding me steady.
As much as I want to stop him—he’s my boss, after all—I realize in this moment, that I don’t want to push him away.
I want to give him more.