Exposed: New Adult Sport Romance (The Boys of Winter Book 5) (8 page)

N
eal and I enter a small space with utilitarian carpet that is littered with scraps of paper, dust bunnies, and other items one might find under a couch that hasn’t been moved in years. In short, it’s filthy.

I ask, “Is this how the previous renters left it?”

Neal nods as a crease form between his eyebrows. “Yeah, the ones that don’t make it tend to do this, like it’s my fault they failed.”

I walk over to the wall that separates us from Rhinestone Cowgirl and run my hand over a dent that has broken through the drywall. Chalky residue coats my fingers, and I swipe my hand on my jeans as I say, “I don’t suppose they paid you for this, did they?” There’s a note of disgust in my voice.

Neal cocks his head at me. “Don’t let this bother you. That’s what security deposits are for. It’s covered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I don’t understand blatant disregard for things that don’t belong to you. That kind of disrespect upsets me.”

Neal smiles at me. “Let me guess, you take in strays too.”

I squint my eyes a little as I think about the feral kittens I took in back in Maine. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No. But I am teasing a little. You’re a kind soul, and it’s sweet.”

I snort. “Sweet? Where’s my sledgehammer?”

Neal chuckles and walks me over to the far back corner where a toolbox is on the floor and a big yellow-handled hammer is leaning against the wall. A large roll of clear plastic is next to it.

I lift the hammer up and take a practice swing. It’s heavy, and I lose my balance for a second at the momentum.

“Whoa, slugger. There are a few things we need to do first.” Neal picks up the plastic and a roll of blue masking tape and hands it to me. “First I need to turn off the breakers for that section, and then we’ll cover the floor so it’s easy to gather up the debris.”

A metal door clangs as he opens the electrical panel, and the switches click loudly as I walk over to the wall with our supplies.

Tape tears from the roll when I break off pieces to hand to Neal so he can secure the plastic tarp he’s laying out. When it’s done he says, “Now we have to mark the wall so we don’t take away too much drywall. Go find the rulers in my tool box for me.”

Metal clangs as I sort through the tools to bring him an L-shaped ruler and a long straight one. When I walk back he takes them from me and plucks the pencil out of my hair.

“Hey!” Curls tumble around my shoulders and halfway down my back. “I had that up for a reason.”

Neal taps my nose with the eraser end. “I’ll give it back.” His gaze lingers on me, and my insides tingle when his voice gets soft. “You’re beautiful with your hair down. You should wear it that way more often.”

I open my mouth to complain about how difficult my locks are, but Neal shakes his head and puts his finger on my lips. “Don’t. Blush or say thank you, but don’t tell me it’s not gorgeous. Because it is.”

The heat of his touch makes my lips throb a little with desire. I whisper, “Thank you.”

He gives me a satisfied smirk and turns to the wall. The pencil scrapes as he draws lines, and I pull myself together. I’m not sure if he was flirting, but my crush is increasing by the second.

Once an outline of the large opening we’ll create is made, Neal comes back to me holding the pencil out. I take it and put it in my mouth as I gather and twist my hair up in a bun. He watches, and when I’m done he moves in close and twists a loose strand around his finger. It makes me gasp a little in surprise, and I think of Trevor. I think it’s safe to say Neal’s flirting now.

“Do you know why I love your hair so much?”

I shake my head because I’m not sure I trust my voice not to come out as a squeak.

“Because it suits you. It’s free and acts as if it doesn’t care about what anyone thinks. But it’s also soft and moves with a grace that’s mesmerizing, just like you.”

Heat rises to my cheeks, and I’m afraid Neal can see me trembling with the urge to press my body against his and kiss him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Neal walks over to the toolbox and rummages around for a bit before bringing me a box cutter in bright green that matches his. “Score the lines I drew.”

When we finish, Neal lifts the hammer and hands it to me. “Take the first swing.”

“Wait, won’t we be crashing into Rhinestone Cowgirl?” I imagine the sound that will carry into Nika’s shop and know she’ll probably jump.

“Yes, but I already marked it off on that side and tented the area last night.”

Using all my strength I hit the wall, and the hammer head penetrates the drywall with a satisfying crunch. I squeal. “That’s fun.”

Neal chortles and then says, “Hit it a couple more times in different spots. We’ll yank the pieces off.”

I do, and after a few more swings my arms are getting tired. I set the hammer down with a thud and join Neal as he rips away sections. It’s hard work, and I’m sweating after a few minutes.

A framework of wood is revealed, and I ask, “How do we cut that out?”

“I have guys coming in to do that part tomorrow. I thought I’d do some of the work I could do first.”

“Cool. Thanks for letting me help.”

I slap plaster dust off my thighs and notice Neal has some on his face. I lick my lips in indecision before stepping toward him. He’s a lot taller than my five feet, four inches, and I lift up on my tiptoes to wipe a finger across his cheek. “You’ve got drywall on your face.”

He captures my wrist with his hand, and his other fingers skim my hip before he grips me firmly. Desire shoots through me and I throw caution to the wind as I tip my face to him in anticipation of a kiss. But his grasp loosens and he steps back while dropping my arm. “Thanks.”

My ears burn in shame because I just made a fool of myself. He doesn’t want to kiss me, and I practically threw myself at him. What was I thinking? I’m saved by Christian’s face popping through an opening in the clear plastic tent.

“Hey, could you be any louder?” Christian sees me and asks, “Ruby, were you the one making all that noise?”

I force a grin, and something witty comes to me. “Yup, bet you didn’t know I was handy with a hammer.”

He walks in to stand near us and survey the work. “Can’t say I did. This is going to open things up nicely.” Christian turns to me. “You must be excited.”

“I am. Nothing like a little manual labor to get the blood pumping.” Of course my blood is pumping for a different reason. I stop a frown that wants to happen when I remember that I’m going to have to control that kind of rush, particularly now that I know where I stand. When it comes to men, I keep proving I don’t have a clue.

Chapter 12

Ev
ery night for the past week I’ve dreamt about Trevor. Something awful happens to him in every dream, and I can’t shake my worry. Remembering what he said about not changing his number, I find him in my contacts. I never deleted him, even though my phone has changed a couple times.

I hope he still has the same number as my fingernails click, tapping out a message, and I put myself out on a limb, trying to keep the promise I made to share my feelings.

“Hey, it’s Ruby. I’ve been thinking about you. Hope you’re ok.”

I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and survey the main floor of my apartment. It’s been taken over by garment production. I have my three sewing machines set up, a large folding table for cutting, and an ironing board in the corner. Three dress forms have various states of clothing on them.

I sip my lukewarm tea and smile at the number of items completed and hanging on the rolling racks. I’m ahead of schedule, and except for the vintage silks that haven’t arrived, things are going more smoothly than I had anticipated.

A car door slams, and I get up to let in a tall, broad guy with light-brown hair. I’m not surprised.

“Hey, boss.”

I grin at his greeting. “Garret, I knew it would be you. Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?”

He makes a show of checking an imaginary watch. “Not in the last twelve hours.”

Garret’s turned out to be my best employee. Not only is his stitching impeccable, but also he’ll work as many hours as I’ll let him. Last night I finally kicked him out so I could go to bed.

He brushes by me to put his lunch in the fridge and says, “I start snow training next week. Is it okay if I work as much as possible until then?”

“Of course. But it’s fine if you want to take some time off.”

“No, I’d rather not. I really need the money, and this is so much better than washing dishes, you know?”

I chuckle as he stakes his claim on the sewing machine he likes best. “I bet Neal is going to regret sending you to me.”

He grins. “He’ll survive. Any old grub can do that job. But not every guy has magic fingers like mine.” He wiggles his digits as he revs the sewing machine by stepping on the foot pedal.

I shake my head and go over to mine to get back to the skirt I started earlier. I let myself get lost in the whirl of my needle bobbing up and down. When Lisa and Elaina arrive later in the morning I take a much-needed break from my machine to let them sew.

I’m meeting with Neal at the shop to see how things are going. Overcast skies match my energy level as I drive to town. Whenever I wake from a bad dream I go sew to process my feelings, and the lack of sleep is making me tired, even if my inventory is swelling because of it. Telling Trevor the truth seems to have opened up old wounds instead of offering me the closure I needed.

The embarrassment of thinking Neal was going to kiss me keeps replaying in my mind. The stupid thing is, he’s probably forgotten the moment, while I can’t let it go. But years of shaming myself are a hard habit to break. My phone dings with a text, and I glance to check who it’s from.

It’s Trevor, and when I stop at the red light, I open it to read his words.

“I’m great. Can I see you?”

Great? Relief washes over me that my worry is all in my head. I perk up over the idea of seeing Trevor again, especially since he sounds happy. I type back.

“Love to. When are you free?”

A horn blares, and I look up to find the light is green. I glance at the huge truck on my tail. “Keep your pants on.” My phone clatters in the cup holder as I step on the gas. I don’t have spare time to hang out with an old boyfriend, but I can’t help myself. I really want to see him.

I resist the urge to pick up my phone when it dings again. I manage to hold off until I pull into my new parking spot, which happens to be next to Neal’s, on the opposite side of the Rhinestone Cowgirl spaces.

I pick up my phone, and Trevor’s text says, “Now?”

I really should get back to sewing after I meet with Neal, but the desire to see Trevor is too great. I text back, ”1PM at the Baked Bean?”

“OK”

“:)”

My pulse quickens in excitement. But I talk myself down as I make my way to my shop. I mean, Ruby Raines. Neal keeps reminding me to call my store by name, but it feels strange to say it, as if I’m someone important.

There’s moisture in the air, signaling an approaching storm, and my hair does its Afro impersonation by the time I get through the courtyard. I almost enter the side door to Rhinestone Cowgirl out of habit. While I can easily cut through, I’d probably get distracted, giving me less time with Neal before leaving to see Trevor.

Pulling open the new wooden door that is similar to Rhinestone Cowgirl’s, I enter to the humming of a saw. Jason, Casey’s boyfriend, is cutting wood, and I guess it’s for the counter top that will look as if it’s set in a fairy cottage. My space is going to be designed to look like a woodland fantasy but not so over the top that it doesn’t work with the western feel next door.

Neal is talking to Joel, the other carpenter, when he glances my way and nods to indicate he’s seen me. Joel turns and gives me a wave that I return. I wander over to where Jason is working and run my hand along the smooth wood that looks to be carved from a tree instead of machine cut. The ceiling is already adorned with twig-like light fixtures that let light peek through and create shadows that mimic dark branches winding around each other.

I pick up a rug sample. My new carpet will be one of the last things we install. Jason suggested we do it in mossy green to add the forest atmosphere. I scan the shop and smile. Things are coming together, and I can’t believe I’ll be open in three weeks.

Neal approaches. “It looks great, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.”

“Ready for numbers?”

I groan. “Teach me, oh wise one.”

Neal winks at me. “With pleasure.”

His voice is low, and my insides twinge in response as he leads me out of the shop. It’s just a couple doors down from his office located between his restaurant, Down Under, and the Fish Bowl, he doesn’t wear a coat and I don’t bother to zip mine.

Opening the door to his office lets heat blast out to us. When we get inside I notice the pipes along the ceiling, and I imagine the stuffy feel of this room mid-winter.

Having had enough of my hair, I wind it into a tight twist and roll it into a ball on top of my head. I’m about to pull a hair elastic from my pocket when Neal says, “Let me.”