22. Leif
22
The strain of West being away and my piling admin duties was already getting to me. I can’t really afford to be out of the office, but for two days, I’ve been pulling boards at Claire’s salon.
I could have let the normal crew stationed at the salon do this, but I wanted to be here. Needed to. It has absolutely nothing to do with hoping Claire stops by. She hasn’t. Not that I’ve really noticed.
Okay fine, I fucking noticed. Who wouldn’t notice when the woman you’re unwilling to admit you’re possibly obsessed with hasn’t been showing up exactly where you were hoping to bump into her?
“Hey, Lee?”
I pause my sweeping as Jeremy enters the main room. I’m still a little salty at how close he was with Claire the other day. Not that she’s mine.
Nah, fuck that shit. She is mine. She just won’t admit it to herself yet.
“Delivery driver is here with the tiles. You want to check them?” he asks.
“Yeah, thanks.” I prop the broom against the wall as I walk out, brushing my dusty hands against my cargo shorts.
The sun’s glare is overwhelming once I step outside, so I flip my baseball cap around the right way before greeting the driver.
“Hey, man. You got a delivery for me?”
“Six pallets for Connors Construction?”
“That’s us.” I nod. “Can I get them in the first room inside the door?”
“You got it,” he says as he hands me his clipboard to sign.
I scrawl my name across the bottom and make my way back into the salon when my phone rings. I smile when I pull it out of my pocket and see it’s my dad.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, sonny. This is a good time?”
“Jem.” I quickly wave at Jeremy and point to the room so he can watch the tiles coming in. “Sure. What’s up?” I ask, returning my attention to Dad.
“We’re taking Aunt Georgia out for her birthday next weekend. Can you make it on Sunday?”
“Of course, send me the details, and I’ll be there.”
“Okay. Any plus ones I should add on?”
“Wow. Is that coming from you, or has Mum just trained you that well?”
“See, I told you he’d know that came from you!” he shouts just far enough away from the mouthpiece that it’s not ringing in my ears.
“Worth a shot!” Mum calls through the distance.
I chuckle. “Just me, Dad. No plus one.”
“Well, we’re still just as happy to have you there.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll text you later with a time. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I smile as I put my phone back in my pocket, then join Jeremy to move the tiles.
We work together, moving stacks in each room where they’ll be needed so the tilers can work quicker when they come in tomorrow to put them down.
We haven’t had the guys in to hook up the air con in the salon yet, and the early November heat is working hard today. I pull my shirt over my head and pop my hat back on, flipping it backwards while we finish up.
It’s just after midday when Jeremy heads to the cafe a few doors up to grab us a quick lunch. We’ll start cutting and replacing the skirting boards once we’ve eaten.
I hear footsteps coming through the back door, expecting to see Jem, but when I look up, I’m pleasantly surprised to find Claire.
“Hey.” I smile. I can’t, and won’t, hide my delight that she seems to be fixated on my bare chest. “Eyes up here, Bombshell.”
That pulls her out of her thoughts. Her eyes narrow. I’m pretty sure one even twitches. She’s so fucking cute.
“I just wanted to check how the clean-up was going.” She rests her hand on one hip, tapping a pink-booted foot against the concrete.
Her little steel cap boots are paired with black denim cutoffs. A hot pink blouse is buttoned low on her tanned chest. The soft, glowing skin of her neck is exposed, along with a shoulder her shirt sleeve is barely clutching to.
Shit, has she been coming into the salon all this time looking so goddamn good? I try to relax my jaw where possession has taken root and offer Claire a smile.
“All done. Jeremy and I will finish re-cutting skirting boards this arvo. Once the tiling’s done, they can be installed. The tiles were just delivered, if you’d like to inspect them.” I gesture to one of the stacked palettes behind me.
Claire points her nose up and struts over to me. “Yes, I would.”
She comes to stand next to me, eyebrows raised, lips pinched, and all I can do is stare down at her with a smile. Her gold eyes fly to mine, widening briefly before they narrow once more.
“Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation?” She flicks a hand to the stacked boxes of tiles.
“Sorry, Bombshell.” I chuckle and pull a knife from the tool belt hooked around my cargo shorts.
She gasps and looks around the room, probably checking that we’re alone so no one can hear the nickname that falls so easily from my lips.
“Seriously? With the Bombshell again? What would Jeremy think if he heard you call me that?”
“He’d probably agree, and then I’d have to punch him.” I finish cutting the ties, then pull at the cardboard to reveal the off-white tiles.
Warm grey and gold veins lightly fleck across the stone. They look both modern and classic and tie in nicely with the other pieces of gold in the room.
I look up at Claire to gauge her reaction and see her lips pinned between her teeth.
“Do they pass the test?” I tip my chin at the tiles.
“Why would you punch him?” she asks instead.
“Because I don’t want him looking at you that hard to confirm that you are, in fact, a beautiful bombshell.”
When she finally looks at me, there’s a subtle sheen coating her usual fiery gold eyes, and I find myself desperate to know what she’s thinking. I hate this new divide between us.
I miss the fire of my Bombshell, but I can’t say I’m mad about finally knowing who she is. I can’t believe she’s the same woman I’ve been emailing all this time.
Thinking back on some of our exchanges, I can see it. All those little pieces I was getting. Now that I can bring those two halves together, it only makes me crave her more. I was already fighting for more before we knew who the other really was. She’s only going to pull back harder now and I fucking hate it. She’s slipping between my fingers, and I never held her tight enough to begin with.
“The tiles look fine. I guess we’ll just have to see how it looks once they’re done.” She tugs her handbag higher on her shoulder, commanding confidence, and turns for the front door. “You better hope they don’t look like shit!”
Ah, there’s the burn.
Light me up, baby.
I can take it.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Project Update
What an interesting way to sign your email Mr Connors. What does the L stand for? Leif? Lee? LIAR…..
I look forward to seeing my salon on Friday.
When will Westley be back?
CLAIRE