Page 48 of The Risks of Reuniting

"The door?" Rachelle and I question together. "What door?"

"Exactly," Holt laughs as he climbs down the ladder. "There isn't one. We need to build one and put it in place."

My eyes rake over him. Is there anything more attractive than a guy in a backwards cap and scruff covering his chin, all sweaty from hard work? I've stolen more than my fair share of looks. My body has stopped asking my mind if Holt is green-lit for attraction, and just gone ahead and remembered how much she likes him. It's distracting at best, bewilderingat worst. How does this man make his jeans fit so well? And his arms . . . He must have been hitting the gym this year.

I yank my eyes away and stand, turning my back to him as I stretch my arms over my head, leaning side to side to loosen my sore muscles.

"Not it on building the door," I joke when my twitterpation is over and I can face him again. "Unless you want it to fall off the house the first time they use it."

Holt's eyes dance with amusement as he looks over the wood I've been nailing. "You're getting better."

I point at him with a laugh. "Do not patronize me, Señor Alvarez. We both know I'm terrible."

Rachelle grins and takes the hammer from me. She quickly nails in the last two nails on the board we've been installing, and it's done before I realize what's happened. She meets my eyes and gives a slow wink and my jaw drops.

"You're a snake for making us all suffer at my slower pace," I blow out.

"It was fun." She shrugs.

I shake my head and chuckle. "You're the worst."

"You're building new skills, and I'm your master teacher," she pulls a face and I roll my eyes.

"I hope you know you cost Lifting Hope like fifty dollars in nails," I retort.

"You're good for it," she cracks as she moves to set the hammer in the bucket of tools that's sitting in the center of the room. "Drink break," she calls, and we all leave the tiny dwelling to go sit in the shade outside and open our jugs of water.

The water is warm now, but I don't mind. It's wet and that's all that matters. Cesar closes his eyes and leans back against the building, and I'm happy to listen as Rachelle lobs questions toward him about his life.

"How did you learn construction?" she asks.

"My grandfather. I live with him and he teaches me," Cesar replies.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty."

"Thirty?" Rachelle hollers, and I laugh. "I've been thinking you were younger than me."

"How old are you?" Cesar opens one eye to look at her.

"Twenty-eight."

Now it's my turn to gasp. "You are not!"

Rachelle gives me a few eyebrow raises and smiles big. "I am. Thanks for being shocked."

"I age good too." Cesar mimics Rachelle's eyebrow raises and we all laugh.

The subject changes to Holt talking through the door plans, and on to other building projects he'd like to finish. I rest my head back against the rough side of the house and close my eyes, willing a breeze to come. I can't believe this is our third weekend here. We have only one week left and we go our separate ways, hoping others are coming to continue the work. It's been an incredible experience, and I can fully understand why Dr. J signed up for three months. A month has gone so fast, and I feel like I could do more than I'll get to do.

"I'd kill for a swim," Rachelle sighs, and I hear her swallow from her jug. "Something to cool off and wash away the sweat and grim."

"You're sweaty?" I tease. "I'm over here fresh as a daisy."

Rachelle giggles. "I can only hope to learn your ways." She sighs. "Seriously, Holt, are there pools around here?"

"No," he answers, and I can hear the disappointment in his voice. "Swimming does sound nice."

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