Page 33 of She Was Made for Me

I shrug. “We have work to do.”

“Really?” She smirks at me. “Or are you pissed because he thought you were my dad?”

Yeah, that sucked.

I grunt, ignoring her comment. “Come on. He was supposed to be assessing the place and instead he was all over you.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Jealous much?”

I roll my eyes. “Grow up, Violet.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, because she’s spot on—I’m jealous as hell. The way she looked at him, with that stylish hair and pristine suit, the way he eagerly looked back…

The very fact that he’sallowedto look at her at all.

So yeah, I behaved like an ass. Apparently that’s just who I am now.

Violet’s staring at me, arms crossed, shaking her head. “I may be eighteen years younger than you, but I’m not the one who needs to grow up.”

My heart sinks as I watch her storm back into the parlor room. I try to tell myself that at least I’ve done an excellent job of pushing her away today, but I still feel shitty. I pull my cap off and rake a hand through my straggly hair, suddenly feeling in desperate need of a haircut.

14

Violet

Iprobably shouldn’t have flirtedquiteso hard with Owen in front of Kyle, but it wasn’t exactly a hardship. He was attractive, if not a little too smooth, a little too… something.

Young? Shiny? Nice, maybe?

But after the past couple of weeks with Kyle stomping around the place, maybe that’s what I need; a nice, uncomplicated man who openly likes me and doesn’t hesitate to show it. Physically, Owen is much more my type than Kyle, plus he’s already emailed to ask if I’m free for dinner sometime, which is refreshing.

So why am I not excited about it? Why did I feel more of a thrill from arguing with Kyle after Owen left?

“We’re going to start on the upstairs bathroom today,” Ryan, one of the crew members, says to me.

I glance up from my morning coffee, pushing away thoughts of grumpy, shaggy-haired foremen. “Did you finish framing up the bedrooms yesterday?”

Ryan sips his own coffee. “Mostly. Bob and Phil will finish that up and begin the insulation while Dale and I start tiling the bathroom.”

I nod, glancing at my Gantt chart. So far, everything seems to be going to plan, and the crew is good at checking in each morning to make sure they’re on track. I’m used to working with groups of men, but these guys are far nicer than the team I worked with back in Silicon Valley.

The other guys arrive and mill around the parlor room, drinking coffee and talking. I bought a tray of donuts which they help themselves to, thanking me.

It doesn’t hurt to bribe them with sugar, too.

“How are you this morning, love?” Dale asks, his chin dusted with cinnamon sugar. He’s a sweet, old-fashioned kind of guy who always checks in with me. He once told me he’s got three daughters and can’t imagine any of them holding their own with a crew of contractors like I do, even though they’re all older than me. I get the sense he likes to make sure I’m safe. He reminds me a little of my grandfather, who died when I was younger, and it’s given me a bit of a soft spot for him.

I smile. “I’m good, Dale, thanks.”

“That realtor kid seemed like a nice guy,” he says, his eyes taking on a twinkle I pretend not to notice.

Phil snorts over his coffee. “Kyle didn’t like him.”

“Speaking of,” Ryan interjects, “where is our fearless leader?”

I drain my coffee with a shrug. I haven’t seen Kyle since late yesterday afternoon, when Sadie showed up and dragged me out for a drink. I told her about Owen, leaving out the way Kyle behaved. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want her to judge him. I mean,I’mjudging him—the way he acted wasn’t cool—but I feel protective of how she might see him.

Which is ridiculous, because it’s not as though Ilikehim. He was kind and sweet when we first met, but I’ve seen very little of that since. And as for his appearance… Look, I’m not shallow, but between the dirty work clothes, the worn old cap, and the hair that sticks out in every direction—from both his head and his chin—he’s a mess. Sure, his shirt strains over his biceps in a way that makes my thighs clench, and his eyes are like pine trees in summer, and when we’re alone there’s a spark between us that sometimes short-circuits the logic center in my brain…

But that doesn’t mean I’m into him. Right?

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