Page 21 of His Build

“I’m sorry,” the kid bit out. Then turned on his heel and disappeared around the side of the truck.

Lucy had to hide her smile.

After the door slammed, Fred turned to Lucy. “We’re extremely sorry. If mycolleaguethere wasn’t making that clear. His dad knows I’m the nice guy; the only one who’ll put up with him. But if I have to ride with this little turd again, I’m not coming back. And I’ll make sure his dad knows too.”

“Appreciate it,” Lucy said.

Fred tipped his head at Graydon and climbed back up in the truck.

As soon as the door slammed the roofers let out a round of whoops and applause.

Lucy’s cheeks practically burnt themselves to a crisp.

8

After the tail end of the truck disappeared into the trees, Graydon looked back for Lucy. But she was gone.

It took him a few seconds before he spotted her walking down towards the boathouse.

He considered letting her have her space—maybe she needed a minute to cool down. He’d worked with hothead trades practically his whole life, and he’d met guys like Brad before. Ungrateful kids, who, if they weren’t the boss’s son or nephew, would be out on their asses in a heartbeat.

But he’d never seen one handled with quite so much aplomb.

Graydon would have been happy to put that kid in his place, but he didn’t have to. Her eyes had lit up when she’d been verbally kicking the shit out of him. It was like watching a volleyball player nail a spike.

She turned as if sensing him, even though he was still a good thirty feet away from her. Her face was lit up in a grin so wide he felt like he’d been punched in the solar plexus. God, she was beautiful. Even from here he could see the rosy pink flush of her cheeks that made his whole body react to her.

As he got closer, he took in once more how the pinkness went down her throat, and further still until it disappeared into the collar of her V-neck t-shirt. A sudden image burst through his mind of what she might look like leaning over him under his sheets, her flushed skin under his hands, her perfect breasts hanging within reach of his mouth.

His crotch strained at his traitorous imagination and he looked up at the roof of the boathouse as if he might be able to physically turn away from the flash fantasy.

“Was I too harsh?” she said as he came up next to her, biting his cheek to try to make the twitching in his cock go down.

Standing this close to her, he could smell the scent of her shampoo. Something floral, like meadow flowers. His mind flashed to her soaping up that thick red hair, a river of bubbles sliding down her shoulders and over her breasts…

Not helping, Gray.

He cleared his throat, trying to bring himself back to the Lucy standing before him. Her face had shifted to something like pensiveness, like she was genuinely concerned she might have hurt that asshole’s feelings. Even presented with shitty human behavior she was still able to extend the guy compassion.

She was a bigger person than he was.

“Harsh? Shit, I’m not a violent guy, but he deserved a lot worse than what you gave him. I would have been happy to deliver, too, if you hadn’t already trounced him.

She laughed, and the encounter with the jerk must have broken something open in her, because it was a big throaty laugh that made him groan under his breath. The careful, clipboard-holding woman of just a few minutes ago—who was still sexy as hell—had evolved into this relaxed, joyful woman. It made something twist inside him.

He wanted to keep her laughing. To keep hearing the sound of her voice. To know more about the thing that made her care about people, even when they were complete jerks.

This was almost worse than picturing her naked.

The way she made him feel was so good it was almost painful. He worried he couldn’t look at her anymore without blurting out what he was feeling.

What was he feeling, anyway? Sinfully attracted, sure. But it was more than that. When he was around her, he felt as if something tight and hard had begun loosening in his chest. It terrified him. It was like he was in a car with no brakes.

“You okay?” Lucy asked once she’d wound down her laugh. He must have been exhibiting his feelings on his face, so he cracked a carefree grin and shoved his hands in his pockets. Then, worried that looked too unprofessional, took them out again.

He cleared his throat. “Well, we’re a day delayed now, at least.”

She pulled her clipboard out from under her arm. “Right,” she said, her voice back to sober. “Will it throw us off too much?”

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