18 - Lauren
Lauren
I’d just finished preparing four mugs of steaming hot coffee when Brock strode into the kitchen, his jaw set and an aura about him that suggested he was on business today. Rafe raised an eyebrow curiously but Callum was the only one to actually ask the question that had the three of us puzzled.
“Boss? Everything okay?” he said, taking a tentative sip of his coffee.
Instead of answering immediately, Brock simply walked over to the fridge and stuck a piece of paper against the door, a square of tape keeping it tacked in place. We made our way over to take a look and as I read what was written there, my heart swelled.
The plumbing and HVAC permits had been approved.
I shrieked, jumping up and down with excitement.
The relief of having some progress after almost a month of stagnation was so sweet that it felt like I was walking on air.
And being able to celebrate this small victory with the guys only made it better.
Callum laughed, sharing a look with me that sent the butterflies in my stomach on a rampage, not helped by the fact that our proximity to the fridge called back memories of what we’d done just days before.
While Rafe had been a bit more distant since the party, even he couldn’t hold back the small smile at the news. “Well it’s about damn time. I was getting bored.”
Brock, while tight-lipped and professional as ever, had a glimmer in his eye.
“Okay boys, you know what this means. We’re officially in demolition mode today,” he said, addressing Callum and Rafe, who both nodded.
A small and foolish part of me felt a little disappointed that he didn’t even so much as acknowledge me beyond a tight little nod before handing out tasks for the day.
They were planning on tearing through the place, laying out a trifecta of mechanical rough-in work that I wouldn’t be able to help with like I’d been doing for the past few weeks during the limbo period.
So instead, I readied my camera and asked if I could take a few photos of them while they worked to track the progress.
I wanted to have a wall of snapshots of the entire experience, detailing the firehouse’s transformation as part of my display gallery and portfolio. They agreed, some more reluctantly than others.
But as they started really getting into their work, I found myself taking more pics of them than the rubble. Callum tried to explain what they were doing during little breaks in all the sledge-hammering and wall stripping, but I was barely able to concentrate despite my best effort.
It was damn near impossible when all three of them were shirtless, sweaty with labor and dirty with a cocktail of industrial grit and grime.
I hid my lust behind my camera, feigning interest in the naked walls and exposed bones of the building, or the floor trenching or glimpses.
But I was captivated by the way their muscles moved under the strain of all that heavy-lifting, and how the sweat glinted off their bodies.
Each of them were focused, their individual skillset highlighted by the sudden drive to do bigger reno work after weeks of holding back.
And every time I saw Callum run new vent stacks or use a blow torch to sweat joints, I thought of his careful, reverential hands on my skin.
When Rafe went back to his work tearing through the walls like they were made of paper, my thoughts drifted to how that intensity and power translated into the way he fucked.
And overseeing everything was Brock, barking orders and handling the HVAC units with strength that I was growing more and more eager to experience first-hand.
I lowered my camera, grabbing my water bottle and splashing some of the contents onto my face. Shit, I was overheating like a dog in heat. But the raw energy of the firehouse was almost more than I could stand, not when I knew how that energy turned on the dime of arousal.
Well, almost. I was still missing one.
I weaved in and out of the chaos of the site, trying to stay out of their way as much as possible while still capturing the shots I wanted. And it didn’t take long before some of the simmering energy bubbled over.
Rafe was the first to acknowledge it, of course.
I’d run out to buy more bottled water and was passing them around when I reached Rafe.
I stopped in my tracks, watching as he swung the hammer in a wide, violent but precise arc.
His back muscles coiled like heavy cables, his powerful arms bringing steel to brick with a bone-jarring crack and spraying red dust over his damp skin.
He let out a long, ragged breath as he relaxed, leaning against the half-broken wall with a look of satisfaction on his face as he wiped a smear of grime across his forehead with a shaky hand, his adrenaline still buzzing.
His smile tugged more at the corner when he saw me watching him and he held out his hand for the bottle. “How sweet of you.”
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the fact that my heartbeat was giving the pounding he’d just delivered to the wall a run for its money.
I was trying even harder now not to focus on his body up close, but in what genuinely felt like a show of spite, he let some of the water drip from his mouth down his body.
A trail of it ran down his torso, between the defined narrow line separating his abs.
It was his deep, raspy chuckle that broke the spell, as usual. “Just take a picture, Lauren. It’ll last longer and you can keep it in your little ‘happy place drawer’ for when you get lonely.”
This fucking bastard.
“I have more refined taste, thanks, asshole,” I said, suddenly annoyed just as much as I was turned on.
He laughed now, tipping some of the water over his head and then shaking it so that droplets flew from his hair.
The cocky grin he gave me made me want to throw the extra bottle at his face.
But he was so undeniably sexy, even when he was infuriating. Especially when he was infuriating.
His eyes dipped down to my lips, like he was waiting for my next rebuttal.
“You know, I don’t think anyone wants to get in your pants as much as you do,” I told him, tossing the water bottle from one hand to the other. “You really give a whole new meaning to the phrase, “go fuck yourself.” You should be proud, truly.”
“Really?” he asked, suddenly moving close enough for me to smell the intoxicating mix of sweat and shower gel and light musk.
I dragged my eyes up to his face, not so much as flinching despite the sudden impulse to jump his bones right there.
He leaned down, his breath featherlight on my ear.
“I think you should show me how it’s done, Lauren. Lead by example.”
I lifted my chin up. “It’s the one area you actually have me beat, Merrick.”
His eyes shone with amusement, but before he could say anything else, Brock cut in. “I’m not hearing much work going on over there. You’re not being paid to socialize, Merrick.”
I didn’t even know where he’d come from, but peering around Rafe I could see him glaring with disapproval, a cast iron pipe in hand mid-move.
Rafe clicked his tongue but backed up, holding his palms up before taking up the hammer again.
“I was taking a break, Lawson. Give a man a chance to breathe.”
“I don’t think Miss Wolfhaardt’s company contributes to your oxygen supply. Back to the wall,” Brock barked.
“Maybe it does,” Rafe mumbled, only loud enough for me to just about hear it.
He gave me one last covert look before diving right back to his job.
I raised a brow at Brock’s brashness, especially considering that up until this point, he’d never really had an issue with the guys talking to me. But he sounded seriously pissed off.
Later, I was sitting on the counter when Callum approached holding something he was staring at intently. “Lauren, check this out. I found it when I was tearing down one of the walls in the changing room.”
He passed me what looked like a perfectly intact brick that had some type of custom inscription on it—the picture of an old brass tally board. I ran my fingers over the marking, marveling at how well preserved it was.
“Wow, this is stunning. It’s a piece of history unique to this place. Give me a second,” I grabbed my camera and took a few shots while he held the brick for me. As we examined it curiously, his eyes flitted up to mine and snagged on my cheek.
“Here,” he said softly, running a thumb across my cheekbone. He laughed a little. “You got some of the firehouse on you. Makes you part of the crew.”
My pace picked up at the gentle brushing of his fingers on my skin, traitorous memories bringing heat to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the actual temperature of the firehouse. I tried to play it off, leaning into the lightness.
“All I need is a hammer and a dozen or so pounds of extra muscle and I’d be golden,” I said. Callum smiled.
“You’ve got more than a few dozen pounds of muscle on your payroll. Just thought I’d let you know,” Rafe called over, temporarily pausing his work yet again to contribute. “Might as well take advantage of it.”
“Merrick, go and get more caulk from the hardware store down the block,” Brock said, once again materializing out of God knows where. And this time he was empty-handed.
Rafe let the hammer drop. “But we don’t need any—”
“Tough shit. I said go and get more caulk,” Brock said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the front doors. His tone sounded like concrete settling. There would be no argument.
Rafe glowered but seemed to think better of vexing the man who held his parole report in the palm of his hand and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Then Brock turned to Callum. “And you. Tackle the upstairs bathroom instead of loafing around and wasting everyone’s time.
I want those pipes stripped before the end of the work day. ”
Callum frowned in confusion. “But that’s a two-man job, Brock. Can’t it wait for Rafe to get back?”
“Just do it, Cal. I’m not asking you,” Brock said.
Callum, similarly to Rafe, didn’t look like he wanted to fight about it. At least not now. He just shook his head at the foreman before heading upstairs. When we were left alone, I made sure to catch Brock’s eye, narrowing my own.
“Well. Aren’t you a killjoy today,” I said, my voice deadpan.
“We’re behind on this project thanks to those permits. We don’t have time to be messing around,” he replied. He was still wearing that same mask. The one I saw slip in the side gallery at Clara’s party in the dark, when no one else could see it.
I hopped off the counter. I could tell that this wasn’t a simple concern over time constraints.
I’d picked up on enough of the work place and feel for the work to know that they were well ahead of the projected timeline.
Nah, whatever had Brock this worked up was something far more petty. Like jealousy.
“No need to get your panties in a twist, Brock. They were just taking breaks. You know, as is stipulated in the labor laws you seem hellbent on breaking,” I said, knowing full well I was pissing him off even more and enjoying every second of it.
His mouth tightened until his lips were barely visible. “You might not have as much of a vested interest in getting this renovation finished on time but I do. I take pride in that.”
“But I’ll miss all of you so much when you’re gone,” I said, batting my eyes dramatically.
Brock didn’t say anything after that, just ignored me and went straight back to whatever he was pretending to focus on. I sighed, picking up my camera again and going through some of the pictures.
Maybe fifteen minutes later, the doors opened and Rafe slunk back into the firehouse.
But there was something different about him.
He looked pale, his eyes hollowed out and darting to all corners of the space as though looking for something.
I didn’t like how his smirk was replaced by a frown so deep it looked out of place on the face of someone half as cocky and self-assured as he at least claimed to be.
“Rafe?” I asked, trying to strain the concern out of my voice. It evidently wasn’t effective.
Callum came walking downstairs and even Brock turned to look at him. “Merrick? What’s got you looking so spooked?”
“Nothing,” Rafe replied and that simple answer only amplified my budding worry.
“Rafe, are you okay?” I asked, walking over to him. I wanted to reach out and touch him, not for anything less than wanting to ground him, to remind him that there were people around him he could confide in. But I didn’t know if whatever we had going between us would allow for that.
“I’m fine, Lauren,” he said.
He went right back to working on the wall, this time looking like a shell of the powerful man who’d been wielding that sledgehammer like a toy. The walls still came down.
I noticed that Brock didn’t ask him about the caulk.
*
It was a little later that I worked up the courage to follow Rafe on his journey to collect something from the equipment room. It was far enough away from the other two that I knew they wouldn’t see or hear as I closed the door behind me quickly.
Rafe turned to look at me, the same dead expression on his face that he had earlier. My heart sank. I wanted him to rile me up, to make some kind of stupid comment, to smile….anything to show that he was okay.
Our dynamic up until now had been built on electricity and sex. It didn’t feel stable enough for me to probe for answers to whatever it was that had clearly left him haunted and isolated. But that didn’t take away the ache I felt when I saw his eyes.
“If you were serious about me showing you the ropes, we could start Lesson One right now,” I said, keeping my voice as unaffected as possible by the painful constricting in my chest. I walked towards him and ran my hands down his sweaty torso, backing him up against the wall.
“I can even help you with your time management skills. We can be done before Brock even notices either of us are gone.”
To my horror, he shook his head, gently prying my hands from his chest. “We’re on a tight deadline. Maybe another time.”
And with that, he slipped past me and out the door, leaving me alone with a thousand reeling questions.