Chapter One
Liz
“You can either sit next to me, and I’ll work the lever between your legs, or I can kind of reach around you and work it that way.”
Wow, I could not have worded that any worse.
I was sure my chest was glowing red as I locked eyes with the man crammed in the cab of my excavator. He pursed his lips, no doubt holding back a smile. He was well over six feet tall but lean in his t-shirt and fitted jeans.
“I’ve always preferred between the legs to a reach around.”
Smart ass.
He folded himself in half to perch on the edge of the driver’s seat next to me. He kept as much of a respectful distance as possible but, still, I could smell his aftershave, and my heart rate picked up. All this between-the-legs talk reminded me that I’d been single for a long-ass time.
I twisted towards his daughter as much as I could in the cramped cab. “Hi, sweetheart, do you want to help me move some dirt today?”
She fiddled with her lower lip and looked at her dad before nodding.
“What’s your name?”
“Paisley.”
“Hi, Paisley, my name is Liz.”
Normally, I drove heavy equipment on the infamous Coquihalla highway, which wound through the mountains in the interior of British Columbia, Canada.
It was known for its rapidly changing weather and breathtaking views.
Farmland one minute, snow capped peaks the next.
You could leave your house in Kamloops in summer weather and be in a full white out before you have to stop to pee.
Not many people got to say that their office was a strip of asphalt literally carved into the side of a mountain.
The jagged peaks were covered in evergreen trees, minus a few patches that got hit by a wildfire a few summers back.
If it wasn’t so out of the way, I could see fantasy movies being filmed here.
Beautiful British Columbia had earned her name.
Today, I volunteered at Trades Expo Junior, an event to teach kids about working in the trades.
I didn’t have any kids of my own, but I was really excited that my sister would make me an aunt in six short months.
Kids were a blast, and I was happy to help them push buttons and pull levers rather than dodging traffic for a day.
I moved my feet so the girl could stand between my knees.
My thigh came to rest against her dad’s.
There was really no way around touching him.
The space was too small. The seat was too narrow.
Both of which were a fabulous excuse for contact.
As I got Paisley and I into position, he and I were constantly brushing forearms or knees.
There was a little spark of excitement that went through me from his touch.
“Sorry, kind of tight in here considering how big a piece of equipment this is.”
The penis inuendo’s are just flying out of my mouth today. Well done, Liz.
He was physically biting his lip to hold in the laugh this time.
I really couldn’t blame him. He opened his mouth to reply, then glanced at his daughter and just mumbled something that sounded like no problem.
Under different circumstances this could turn into a very interesting conversation, but this was neither the time nor the place, so I refocused on Paisley.
The machine had a lever on either side of the seat to control the bucket. I instructed her to put a hand on each, and I did the same. Her little arms were stiff from nerves and as my elbow brushed against the thigh of the man sitting next to me, I was a little nervous too.
He murmured encouraging words to his daughter as we guided the machine to scoop up a bucket of dirt.
I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her moving the lever with a fraction more confidence.
This was one of the many things I loved about working in the trades.
I could see what I was accomplishing. Answering emails or moving paperwork around was fine for some, but I could move mountains.
I could build things or tear them down. I could make it seem like an entire snowstorm never happened with just a plow truck and a few hours.
I could actually be satisfied with what I accomplished at the end of the day.
Plus playing with big machines was just fucking cool.
As we moved the lever and let the dirt drop, she clapped her hands and jumped up and down.
“I did it!” Her excitement was contagious, and I flashed her a smile.
We needed more women in this line of work, and it reminded me of when I first started.
Most kids loved the idea of big machines. I just never grew out of it.
“You did great.” He got down on one knee and hugged his daughter. He was so much bigger than her. The way she clung to his neck told me everything I needed to know about what kind of dad he was. He turned to face me, an awkward move given he had to crouch down, and his knee banged into mine.
“Thank you for showing us your machine. I’m Nate by the way.” He stuck out his hand.
“Liz.” We shook hands. His bigger one enveloped mine. His hands were warm and callused, but they were rough on the knuckles rather than the palms like mine.
I held his hand for way too long and took the opportunity to study his face.
He was younger than me, there was no doubt about that.
I had recently turned forty and I doubted he had hit thirty yet.
His eyes were a brown so dark they almost blended in with his pupils, but they had a sparkle of excitement in them when he looked at his daughter.
His dark hair was buzzed short, and his face was covered in stubble of the same length.
The longer I looked, the more scars I saw.
A particularly jagged one slashed through his left eyebrow, and a fainter one cut across his right cheek.
There were small marks above his upper lip, along his jaw, and into his hair.
Who is this guy?
All too quickly, he let my hand go and climbed down the three yellow steps of the cab’s ladder.
He reached to pick up Paisley, his biceps flexing along his lean arms, and then they were gone.
The next child made their way up the ladder, and I held out my hand so they didn’t fall.
My eyes stayed on Nate and Paisley as they disappeared into the crowd, hand in hand.
******
A few hours later, with the event over, I made my way to my car, my mind still stuck on the unexpected guest I’d had in my cab.
The other kids had all come in alone, but with Paisley there was no way she was getting in without her dad.
Watching him get down on her level and comfort her with his presence melted my heart.
When he’d asked if he could come in with her, I’d said yes without hesitation.
He was soft towards his daughter but looked hard with all of his scars.
I was so distracted thinking about him that I didn’t notice the piece of paper under my windshield wiper until I had already unlocked my doors.
I grabbed the paper, expecting a parking ticket, even though I was parked legally, but froze when I saw the words written on the paper in thick black letters.
Quit bitch. Women can’t drive.