Page 3 of The Matchmaker
Well, that’s just unfair.
Deep-set green eyes gaze over my shoulder as I falter, falling at the first hurdle. Strong jawline covered in dark stubble, strands of jet-black hair peeking out from beneath his hard hat. I have to crane my neck to look at him, and as the resident tall girl in the village, that’s saying something.
“Is there a problem?” he asks.
“There is,” I say, before Justin can respond. I hear him scampering away, but I don’t bother to check, not when the newcomer snaps his attention to me, pinning me with his stare. “I…”
I trail off as his gaze drops down, lingering on my legs. Or to be fair to the guy, I presume not so much my legs as the pajama bottoms that cover them. The pajama bottoms that feature a dozen yellow ducks in rain jackets that I now really wish I wasn’t wearing.
I clear my throat, but it takes him a moment to look back up again. His expression blank, bordering on bored, doesn’t change.
“Are you in charge?” I ask.
“No.”
“Can you tell me who is?”
His walkie-talkie crackles at his hip, but he doesn’t reach for it, just continues to stare at me like he didn’t even hear what I said.
“You know you’ve got…” He lifts a hand to his cheek, and I just about want to die when I remember I’m still wearing the overnight eye masks I bought. The ones I put on to try and help my puffy, sleep-deprived face this morning.
“I know,” I say, making a split-second decision to go with it. “They’re meant to be there.”
A pause.
“Okay.”
“Look, I would like to discuss the noise levels of your site,” I say in my most professional voice. “Are you someone I can talk to about that, or are you— excuse me!”
My mouth drops open as the man walks past me, not even listening. I follow him immediately, indignation fueling my steps as I hurry to keep up with his long strides.
“I’m talking to you! You can’t just—”
He stops so abruptly that I almost walk into him, and I can only stand there in confusion as he grabs a spare hard hat from a pile by the Portakabin and places it on my head.
“Health and safety,” he explains. The words are serious, but I’m almost certain he’s making fun of me. “Have you signed in?”
“I…no, I—”
“You need to sign in to get a visitor’s pass. You need a visitor’s pass to walk around the site. Did you talk to Leon?”
“I didn’t talk to anyone,” I say, growing frustrated. “I just walked in. It’s not my problem if your security is non-existent.”
“No,” he agrees. “It’s mine.”
The way he says it makes me hesitate, and I reach up to straighten the helmet. I’ve always had a lot of hair, frizzy brown curls that I’ve never managed to tame, and they’re already trying to push the thing off my head.
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” I begin.
“But you’re fine with roaming around an active construction site with no protective equipment?”
“Well, I have a hat now,” I mumble, and a long silence stretches between us.
“What did you say you wanted to discuss?” he asks eventually, and I try to remember the whole point of this.
“The noise levels.”
He gives me a look. “The noise levels.”
