Page 12 of His Build

He looked over his shoulder at her, hoping he wasn’tblushingof all things. “I’ll flip it to you as soon as I’m back at the office.”

Then he strode out of the house as quickly as he could.

Graydon headed down to the water. It was just because she was new in town—that was all it was. He knew too many people in this town.

It was true; having grown up in Barkley Falls, he knew a lot of folks around here. And in the next town over, and the one next to that. He did wish he could be more anonymous sometimes. He wished there were people who, even twenty years later, didn’t look at him with a strange, wistful pity when they passed him in the street, knowing what happened to his family that fateful day. But Graydon was hard-pressed to think of anywhere else that might possibly feel like home. Casey liked to tease him that he should get out of the Falls to find an honest woman to call his wife. And while he’d laugh and play along, he didn’t think he’d ever want to leave the Falls for good. He wouldn’t be able to stand being far away from Casey and her six-year-old son, Sam. He also knew he’d never be looking for a wife. Keeping his relationships to friends—and casual hookups—meant nobody else to worry about. And nobody else to lose.

The old familiar ache settled in his chest, and Graydon ran a finger along his jaw, feeling the place where the accident that had torn apart his family had torn apart his skin.

No, Lucy Fulham was just another attractive woman he would happen to see around for the next six weeks.

5

Graydon didn’t get to see Lucy again for a full work week. He wasn’t on the Jones site for more than an hour or two every day, sometimes less while skilled trades were in place. The roofers were in there now, next to some concrete tinters, then siding. He wasn’t actually planning on being there for a full day until the windows and doors came in two weeks.

Lucy’s role was similar—no need to be at the site every day, and when she was there, it also wouldn’t be for hours at a time unless she was overseeing an install. Alfred had introduced them via email, and the day after she’d arrived she’d sent Graydon an email of her timeline and materials. He’d provided the names of some local retailers for her products. It was all very professional.

He told himself it didn’t matter; he didn’t need to see the gorgeous redhead who’d literally crashed into his life. But hell, despite all the warning bells going off in his head, he wanted to. He hung around the site longer than needed, hoping he’d catch her. He found himself looking for her in town—scanning the aisles at the grocery store; lingering over his breakfast at Aubrey’s Diner.

On Friday, he stayed on site all day. It wasn’t justto try to catch Lucy though—he was finishing up work on the boathouse himself, testing out some of the new siding they were going to use on the main house. He’d spent the day hammering and measuring, cutting and lifting. By the end of the day, Graydon was beat.

And Lucy still hadn’t shown up. Despite their sporadic emailing, he’d begun to think he’d made her up.

He tossed his tools into the chest with a bit too much force.

This was exactly what he worked at avoiding. Caring about where someone was and wondering if they were okay. Well, she was a grown woman—she could take care of himself. And he had nothing to do with it.

He stretched his aching arms, enjoying the feel a hard day gave his body. Then he glanced at his watch—half-past eight already. Shit. He’d kept working long after the last of the roofers had gone home and was all alone out here in the quiet, dimming light. Graydon looked out over Emerald Lake with a smidge of longing—he was tempted to strip off and take a dunk. The water looked so cool and refreshing, and he was covered in a good layer of sweat and grime from the day’s work.

The pop of tires on gravel sounded behind him. Thank god he’d decided to keep his pants on. It was probably Chris or one of the roofers who’d forgotten something on site.

But when he stepped around the side of the boathouse, he saw Lucy’s SUV pulling in next to his truck. His belly twisted, tightening when she stepped out.

She looked around, craning her neck toward the building. She was holding herself kind of stiffly, like she was nervous. His truck was there, so it was obvious he was too, but when she didn’t immediately see him she pulled out her phone and began taking pictures.

Graydon started up the path. He didn’t want to startle her, but he had to make himself known before he accidentally photo-bombed one of her shots.

“Hey,” he called out, but she didn’t hear him, because she reached up to take a shot of the almost finished roof. Only the soffits and flashing were left to do now. Mostly, it looked great.

So did Lucy.

Watching her was like witnessing some kind of beautiful—and inadvertently sexy—dance. As she lifted her phone over her head to take a photo, her shirt rose up, revealing a swath of pale skin at her deliciously rounded hip. Then, when she squatted down to trace a line along the future site of the deck, her hair fell against her shoulder in a soft tumble of waves. The dance became a littletoosexy when she angled in such a way as to give him a clear line of sight down her cleavage. He turned away, but not before he felt his jeans tighten just slightly across the crotch.

He was still twenty feet away from her, but he cleared his throat as loudly as he could. “Hey!” he called again.

She jumped to standing.

“Sorry,” he said.

“God, you startled me.”

“I promise I tried to call out to you from down there,” he said, throwing a thumb in the direction of the water. “But hollering might have scared you more.”

“It’s fine,” she said, pocketing her phone. “I came back to catch the evening light.”

“It’s definitely worth seeing in the flesh,” he said, then flushed at the wordflesh. He hoped his embarrassment was hidden in the falling light.

They looked out over the lake together. The sun bathed everything in a deep orange glow. Soon only its aftereffects would be visible: pink clouds, dimming light. It was as if they were in some kind of bubble; a muted, glowing place with a buffer between them and the world around them.

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