Chapter 7 Caleb #2
She blushed and shoved her phone in her pocket.
I watched her for a moment, then grinned. “It’s me, isn’t it? You had to label me Don’t Even so you wouldn’t be tempted.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So that’s a yes… It’s okay, I get it. I’m pretty tempting.”
Those green eyes narrowed. “You do know you’re not nearly as hot as you think you are, right?”
“Keep telling yourself that.” I gestured to the pocket where she’d put her phone. “Everything okay?”
She shrugged. “Rosalind requested a full presentation of the Henderson job from conception to where it’s at now.
” She paused, and I saw a tangle of emotions cross her face, but couldn’t decipher a single one.
“I just got a text from one of my coworkers, who warned me it’s basically an unspoken audition. ”
“For what?”
“To see if I’m up for the job if Ruth doesn’t return.”
The job she wanted more than anything, which I understood more than she could know. “It’s better than her not asking.”
“True. It’s just…” She grimaced. “I have to present at a staff meeting, but I’m not great at public speaking.” She paused. “And by ‘not great,’ I mean I really suck at it.”
“All it takes is practice.”
“Easy for you to say.” She jabbed a finger into my chest. “You’re one of the few who are good at it.”
A compliment…but also, ouch, she had a pointy finger. “I’ve had to do it a lot. It gets easier every time.”
“Says the guy who never runs out of smart and funny things to say.”
I raised a brow. “Two compliments in a row. Note to self: always offer you caffeine.”
She crossed her arms.
I smiled. “Okay, how many people will be listening to this presentation?”
“Everyone. All the satellite offices will Zoom in, and Henderson as well. There could be close to a hundred.” She put a hand to her chest, her breath already erratic.
“Breathe.”
“I am!”
“You’ve got this,” I said. “Did you get good shit from the drone?”
She nodded.
“Let’s see.”
She whipped out her phone, sidling up close until my nose brushed her hair as she scrolled through the pictures. Damn, she smelled like sunshine and something else…something that made my brain short-circuit.
“These are great,” I said, not surprised. “Really great.”
She dropped her armor, her eyes searching mine. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah. Some of them could be used in the Sonoma Guide—that’s how professional they look. You even managed to capture the river in the background, also the cliffs and ocean as well.”
Her smile was short-lived. “But when I get to the graphs and diagrams and footnotes of the actual job’s progress, I’m going to put them all to sleep.”
“Then don’t use graphs and diagrams and footnotes.”
She stared at me as if I’d suggested she try to explain quantum physics using only sock puppets. “I spent all last night making them.”
“Let me see.”
She looked startled. “What?”
“Make your presentation to me.”
She flushed, looking horrified. “I…can’t.”
“Sure you can,” I said. “Pretend I’m…”
Her brows shot up so far, they vanished into her hair.
I grinned. “What do you think I was about to say?”
She crossed her arms. “Nothing.”
“Liar. You thought I was going to say to picture me naked.”
“Well, that’s what everyone says to do when they give public speaking advice!” she said defensively.
Her face was beet red now, and I laughed but let her off the hook. “I was actually going to say to pretend I’m the Cookie Monster.”
She gaped at me.
“Trust me.”
“Hard pass on that.”
I shrugged and stood. “Good luck with your job interview.” I started to walk off. I got five feet.
“Wait.”
I shoved my smile deep before I pivoted back to her.
She gestured to the stack of drywall. I sat. Drawing a deep breath, she pulled out her laptop and set it up where I could see it, opening PowerPoint. “Keep in mind,” she said, “I haven’t edited and loaded the footage from today, but—” She broke off with a frown.
“What?”
She turned her laptop to face me; it had gone black. She tried restarting and got nothing. “No. No, no, no, this isn’t happening.” She was frantically going through all the tricks to force a reboot.
“How old is it?” I asked.
“Six years. I’m babying it along until I can afford a new one.”
“Henderson and Hall didn’t give you a work laptop?”
“I’ve got a desktop at the office. You don’t get a laptop as a temp, so I’ve been using my own.” She tried again and then again, muttering to herself. “I should’ve paid better attention in that manifestation class Suzie made me take. She manifested her computer not dying, and it hasn’t.”
“What did you manifest?”
“More snickerdoodles in my life.”
I snorted, and she crossed her arms.
“When things go bad, my go-to fix is to have snickerdoodles,” she said.
“And when they go well?”
“Better than anything.”
“Nothing’s better than sex,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “Snickerdoodles are. Plus, I have a signature-splurge cocktail that goes great with them—sparkling wine, cranberry juice, and a sprig of mint.”
I laughed.
She crossed her arms. “I suppose your go-to is something ridiculously manly, like beer.”
“Or whiskey. I’m easy to please.”
“Shocker.”
I ignored this. “Are you backed up to the cloud?” When she nodded, I pushed my laptop toward her. “Use mine.”
She signed in and began to rattle off everything she’d done so far, flipping through graphics and diagrams, just as she’d mentioned, her voice so quiet that I had to strain to hear her. Quiet and…flat.
The interesting thing was, she had a beautiful speaking voice, plus charm and charisma in spades—when she chose to use her skills.
When she finished, she looked at me. “You want to yawn, right?”
“Yes, but that’s my life and nothing to do with your presentation. You just need to apply some pressure in the right spots and add some pizzazz. May I?”
When she nodded, I stood and came up behind her, reaching around her to go through the presentation again, slowly, making suggestions on how and where to show off the project—rather than spouting dry facts, pointing out the things I thought Rosalind would want to see. “What do you think?”
Emma turned her head from the screen, a move that had our mouths only a few inches apart.
She stared at mine.
I tried not to stare at hers. She was wearing lip balm; I’d seen her put it on, and it was coconut flavored.
I wanted to nibble it off. “Tell them how you braved the scary dark basement and actually experienced the spirit of the place, felt the passion of the history. Tell them how it made you feel.”
“Why would they care about that?”
“Because Henderson will be on that Zoom.” As I spoke, my mouth almost brushed her ear, and she shivered. I stared down at her, unable to tear my eyes away. “He loves the basement, loves the history of this place.”
“Damn it.” She turned to face me. “I should’ve thought of that.
” She paused but didn’t shift away. “You know, I never understood why you beat me on every single presentation in school. Every time. But you did it by bringing out the heart and soul of each project. So simple, and yet so few can do it.”
“It’s about taking info and presenting it with passion.”
“Okay.” She paused. “Um, how exactly do I bring the passion?”
“You pretend you’re talking to the Cookie Monster and selling him on cookies, which he already loves. It makes it feel personal, gives him a stake in you.”
“Applying pressure.”
“Exactly,” I said, trying not to notice how if she so much as took a deep breath, our bodies would be up against each other. And still, she hadn’t shifted away.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Helping you.”
Her eyes held mine prisoner. “It’s more than that. You’re…you’re sneakily trying to sell me on you.”
“Am I?”
“You blew into my ear.”
“It’s called breathing.”
“BS.” She put a hand to my chest and pushed, and I obligingly stepped back.
“You’re applying pressure,” she accused.
I smiled. “Did it work?”
“No.”
I gave her a look, and she capitulated.
“Fine.” She made an I can’t believe I’m saying this face. “I’d buy whatever you were selling. But you knew that.”
I laughed. “You wouldn’t. You’re immune to my charm.”
She muttered something that sounded like, “I wish,” but I couldn’t press for more information because, of course, everyone chose right then to walk in from out back.
Our new master carpenter and his guys, then Ryder, then my crew of Danny, Hawk, Miguel, and even Tucker, who wanted to check over the material drop that had arrived.
Emma said that she had more footage to capture and raced out of there like hellhounds were on her heels. Playing it cool, ignoring Ryder’s pointed glance, I resettled Hank out of the way, to a comfortable chair on the back patio with his iPad, deep into an episode of Golden Girls.
I met with Ricky and went over how I wanted him to tackle the job.
Then the guys and I gathered around the blueprints to discuss today’s problems. If I was their fearless leader, Danny was our den mother.
He wore his hair in a man bun, had so many piercings I wasn’t sure how he managed to stay afloat when he swam, and could cut through bullshit with one word.
Hawk—with his namesake mohawk, dark sunglasses, and a ripped T-shirt and jeans like he was a rock star—was the group cutup, and Miguel had the best actual skills.
Each of them had been handpicked by me and was sharp as fuck, reliable, and loyal, which made them worth their weight in gold.
“Who was the hot chick?” Danny asked.
I followed his line of sight through the slider to…Emma. “Emma Sumner, architect from Henderson and Hall. She’s our liaison.”
“Nice,” Danny said with a smile. “Think she’s single?”
“Ask her, and you’re out on your ass.”
Danny lifted his hands in surrender and backed off. Our meeting adjourned; the guys scattered. Except for Tucker. My brother slowly took in Emma, then my expression. “Interesting.”
“Shut up.”
His smile was smug. “You remember months ago, when you and me and Ry were sitting graveside, visiting Auggie?”
Like I could forget. Tuck and I had gone there to find Ryder alone, grieving on what would’ve been his best friend and business partner’s thirty-second birthday. “What about it?”
“Remember seeing three falling stars arcing in unison across the sky?”
Danny, Hawk, and Miguel, who’d only gone to the other side of the room to gather what they needed from their toolboxes, gasped like three little old ladies in church. If they’d been wearing pearls, they’d be clutching them.
“No.” I jabbed a finger at Tucker. “Ryder saw those stars. I didn’t, and you didn’t—we had our eyes closed.”
“Liar.”
Fuck. I glared at my guys, whose heads were swiveling like they were at a tennis match. “Are we paying you to stand there and gawk at our architect, who deserves a safe workspace without feeling ogled?” I asked in my boss voice.
They quickly headed to their work.
“Not to complicate things,” he said. “But I know you didn’t forget Ryder’s decree regarding getting cozy with anyone from work.”
I had a long fuse, but both my brothers had a way of cutting it down to the nub and lighting it on fire. Then blowing it up. “All I’m doing is standing here.”
“Yeah, and watching her like she’s lunch.”
Lunch. Dinner. The rest of my life…
Tucker snorted. “You’re screwed.”
I mean, where was the lie…? “Shut up.”
“Sure. But you should swipe that lovesick look off your face before Ry sees it.”
“Sees what?” Ry asked from behind us.
Shit. The man needed a bell. I drew a deep breath and turned to face my older brother. But Ry looked to Tucker, brows raised.
I did the same.
Tucker tossed up his hands. “Don’t look at me. It was you two who taught me that snitches get stitches.” And he walked away.
Out the window, I watched a delivery truck arrive—hopefully with the rest of our order. Nice timing. “Gotta go.”
“This isn’t over,” Ry said to my back.
“No shit, it’s never over.”
I spent some time making sure Ricky was on point, then checking on my crew, and when I was done, my eyes sought out Emma, who had her knees in the mud, her gaze locked on her screen as she took shots of the high basement window from a side flower planter.
I walked past her. Or I meant to. I really did. But she’d removed her blazer. Her top was thin and short-sleeved, and I could have counted her goose bumps from here.
“You look cold.”
Her head whipped around, flashing that sassy look I liked so much. “I’m not.”
“Your lips are turning blue.”
“You calling me a liar?”
I smiled. “Right to your face.”
“I didn’t want to get my blazer dirty.”
I tugged off my hoodie and tossed it to her, giving her the choice of catching it or letting it fall.
She caught it.
“Nice save.” And since Ry was hollering for me, I saluted her and walked away, but not before catching her lifting my sweatshirt to her nose and taking a deep inhalation, eyes closed.