The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots (6 page)

‘You’re not serious.’

‘I’ll need a 200 CHS for the pole at the very least.’ Gavin was already striding past her. ‘I’ll go see Tony.’ Tony was one of the yard foremen. He was in charge of all the fabricated steel that arrived on site, storing it and distributing it to the correct area of the job.

Lena watched Gavin head for the donga that housed Tony’s office and could tell he had already forgotten her presence. Shaking her head, she entered the main donga in search of Carl. She had to ask him about getting a ute for Sunday among a score of other things.

‘Good afternoon, Carl.’

He looked up from his computer screen as she walked into his office. ‘Since when?’

Lena smiled. ‘Bad day?’

‘The fuckin’ worst. How was your induction?’

‘Boring.’

Carl shrugged. ‘Bulldog likes ’em very thorough. What can I do for you?’

‘I’ve done my research. I just want to know where we’re at in terms of progress and how I take it from here.’

‘Best to talk to Mike about that.’

Lena’s heart sank. ‘Mike Hopkins?’

‘He’s in charge of the skid frame. He’ll be your site supervisor.’

Lena’s heart plummeted even further.

It couldn’t have been more unwelcome news. The first image that popped into her head was Mike’s contemptuous smirk as he handled her luggage at the airport.

The last thing she wanted was a subordinate who had zero faith in her. She needed an ally. Someone who was willing to work with her and respect her suggestions. Mike Hopkins wasn’t going to do that. If anything, he was going to make things as difficult for her as he could.

‘Listen, Carl,’ Lena began, but the phone rang and he picked it up instead.

‘What? Fuck! No! Who told you to let fuckin’ Eric drive the crane? You know he’s fuckin’ incompetent. Me? Get fucked. I didn’t tell you
shit
!’

He shook his head at Lena, waving his hand in dismissal. It was clear her questions weren’t a priority. She bit her lip and exited his office. The only thing left to do was meet trouble head on.

She looked at her watch. There was one last bus run for the day. Just enough time to get out to the skid and talk to Mike. Who knew? He
might
be reasonable.

So she donned her hard hat, safety glasses and reflector vest and caught the bus out to the wharf to find him. The skid frame was about five hundred metres down the jetty. Lena got a glimpse of it as soon as the bus left the land. It was a giant steel table-like structure that straddled the existing conveyor belt. She could see the men working on top of it while the conveyor operated normally beneath. They had a little five-tonne crane bolted to the deck and were lifting a beam over the side to attach to the main girders below the jetty deck. This was one of many that would be used in the first step towards broadening the wharf.

She wasn’t sure why they called it a skid frame until she got close enough to see that the legs of the table were attached to long steel beams that could act like skis. ‘Oh I see.’ She nodded. ‘It skids along.’

‘Yeah,’ said Sharon. ‘It’s pulled by winch along the deck.’

Sharon dropped her off at the base with a smile and a wave. Lena straightened her hard hat, pulled her vest into place and walked over to the ladder on the side of the skid. Seconds later, she was standing on the checker plate.

‘Here’s trouble.’ A rat-faced little man tipped his hat at her.

‘Hi,’ she greeted him.

‘Mike,’ he called out over his shoulder. ‘Seems we have an engineer on board: a
madame
engineer.’

Mike turned around and squinted at Lena. He made a noise between a snort and a grunt and then returned his gaze to the ocean.

‘Lena!’

She saw a head pop up over the other side of the skid. ‘Radar.’ Lena smiled. ‘You never told me you got transferred to the skid team.’

He shot a mischievous glance in Mike’s direction. ‘And spoil the surprise? Not on your life.’ He hauled himself up onto the skid.

‘Word about town,’ he told her rat-faced companion, ‘is that Lena here is our new leader.’ Again he glanced over his shoulder with a grin. ‘Mike’s
new
boss
. Isn’t that right, Mike?’

Lena ground her teeth. Trust Radar to stick his spoon in the pot first. She glared at him, mouthing, ‘Cut it out,’ as Mike continued his silent vigil.

Mike didn’t turn around so she joined him by the hand-railing at the edge of the skid.

‘Mike,’ she began, ‘has Carl spoken to you about my new appointment as the engineer for the skid? I just thought we should touch base and –’

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Mike said roughly, without looking at her. ‘As you can see, I have everything under control here.’

‘I don’t think Carl would have appointed me if he felt there was nothing for me to do,’ Lena said firmly, suppressing her anger as it attempted to flare. The trick was to stay calm. Calm and rational.

‘Maybe he just wanted to get you out of his hair for a while by palming you off on me.’

She gaped at him. ‘You’ve got some attitude, Mike. And what I can’t figure out is what I’ve done to deserve it.’

‘Do you know how many years I’ve been in this industry?’

‘Er . . . I don’t know.’ Lena winced. ‘Ten?’

‘Fifteen,’ he snapped. ‘The very last thing I need is you.’

He looked away. Clearly, her sex wasn’t his only problem. How was she supposed to get the experience she needed if she got this at every turn?

‘Listen, Mike,’ Lena began, but he wouldn’t look at her. ‘Mike,’ she tried again in vain.

Lena followed his gaze out across the water, her fury gathering steam. Then instantaneously it fizzled. ‘Whoa.’

Whales, two of them, were frolicking about half a kilometre away from the wharf. Their huge black bodies slid in
and out of the water like islands, appearing and then disappearing. Every now and then a huge tail would emerge, flip upwards and then smash the ocean surface with as much strength as the pile hammer. One of them sprayed a fountain from its blowhole before its black body curved into the waves. She had never seen anything more humbling.

Radar came up and stood beside them. ‘Been keeping us company all morning,’ he told her. ‘I think they know we’re up to something.’

‘Pity they’re wrong,’ Mike snapped. ‘We haven’t welded that headstock on yet and won’t do so if you continue to stand there gaping like a frog catching flies. Get over the side.’

Reluctantly, Lena tore her gaze from the whales. ‘Mike –’ but he wouldn’t let her finish.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I have two headstocks to get in today and unless you’ve got any tips on how to do that more efficiently, back off.’ He moved away from her to walk over to the other side of the skid. She watched his back in frustration as he leaned over the railing, yelling more orders to the guys below.

She’d been dismissed. Fully and utterly dismissed.

And she had no way to regain ground. Lena didn’t have any tips to make him more efficient. She was hoping they’d be able to come up with something together. But there was no way she was going to beg for an alliance. That would be tantamount to admitting everything he thought about her was true.

You’re going to prove him wrong if it kills you.

All she needed was some time to regroup.

That evening, Lena was dying to get to the gym to do just that. Maybe sweating out her anger would make room for ideas. She needed a plan or a miracle to make Mike cooperate. As the former was more accessible than the latter, she knew she’d better get on the treadmill and hope that something came to her. It was unfortunate that when she finally entered her sanctuary, it was contaminated.

Dan Hullog was on the treadmill.

She stopped just short of the door, the hairs on the back of her neck rising like porcupine spikes.

Perfect.

She toyed briefly with the idea of leaving and then his gaze flicked upwards and their eyes met in the mirror on the wall in front of him. His were cool and knowing. Dignity now dictated that she stayed.

She walked over to the bicep-building machine and perched on its worn vinyl seat. Dan went back to ignoring her. Despite her resolve to do the same, her eyes were continually drawn to his solid male back. Perhaps it was because he didn’t look like a client in gym shorts and a sweat-soaked tank top.

Muscled shoulders. Generous biceps. Powerful calves.

She swallowed with difficulty as his masculinity hit her like a smack in the face.

Now more than ever, Bulldog seemed an apt name for him.

Suddenly the treadmill beeped and slowed. She tore her eyes away, pumping her weights unnaturally fast till a spasm in her right arm told her to stop. Lena released the weights as heat that wasn’t from the work-out crept into her face. Had he seen her checking him out? She gave herself a mental slap.

You’d think after everything that had happened at university she’d have a mental circuit-breaker that got thrown whenever she was attracted to the wrong kind of man. Apparently not. She steeled herself. Crushing on the client was not an option.

She confined her gaze to the floor as she tried to slow her racing heart.

A pair of old white sneakers entered her field of vision.

Oh crap.

Was he going to say something about it? Her fingers trembled. She raised her eyes to his and took in their colour for the first time – a deep ocean blue.

‘Carl told me he put you on the skid frame.’

Lena breathed again. ‘Yes, that’s right.’ She nodded, searching his face and finding it unreadable. So now he knew she was
an engineer. Maybe he had approached her to apologise for his behaviour on the wharf. Her heart buoyed. That would be it.

‘You need to go faster.’

Maybe not.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You’re too slow.’

Lena was confused. ‘On the bicep curl?’

‘No,’ he said impatiently, flipping a white towel across one broad shoulder. ‘On the skid frame.’

‘Oh.’ She couldn’t believe it. He was telling her off again. She shouldn’t have expected any differently. Although at this rate, she’d rather he’d caught her checking him out.

‘You’re ten per cent behind schedule.’

‘I see.’ Her mind did backflips as she tried to recall whether Carl had said anything about how much she was supposed to get done per day. Her mental database came up blank.

‘At the pace you’re going,’ Bulldog continued, ‘we’ll be here till next Christmas.’

She bit her lip. Bloody Mike: she’d bet her left arm he’d known this. He’d be loving her humiliation now if he could see it.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ The Tone was blaring in his voice: Lena couldn’t help but snap back at him.

‘Of course I heard you, damn it. But I am off duty, you know. I didn’t expect to be accosted in the gym.’

He seemed to be slightly taken aback by her tone because for a moment he said nothing. Immediately, she got the uncomfortable feeling that no one else had spoken to him like this before. Not even Carl. She silently cursed her temper. Wasn’t the first rule of thumb, the client is always right?

Damn.

‘Sorry,’ she apologised gruffly. ‘Bad day.’

‘Would you rather I had called you in formally for a meeting?’

Lena couldn’t seem to help herself. She shot him a look of disdain. ‘You mean for a dressing-down.’

‘Oh, you’re dressed down enough already, don’t you think?’ While she was trying to figure out what he meant, his gaze roved over her fitted gym shirt, short bike pants and bare legs. Then it all became clear. Her relatively understated gym clothes had suddenly become indecent. Her chest tightened as his slow perusal seemed to go on forever.

This is not happening.

Not again. She had to stop it.

‘Do you mind?’ she finally breathed.

His lips twitched. ‘What’s good for the goose.’

Lena felt ice slide down her spine.

Crap.

He
had
seen her checking him out. In a second, she went from cold to hot as her skin pinkened like watermelon. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

‘If you think you’re not cut out for this job, you should just ask Carl to send you home. No one will hold it against you.’

Lena stiffened. An unnatural rage seized her and she stood up too fast, hands on her hips, eyes on fire. ‘Don’t worry about the skid,’ she bit out. ‘I’ll get it moving faster for you. Now if you’ll excuse me.’

He stepped into her path and she was pulled up short. She turned her head to meet his eyes but had to look up, and so braced herself against being intimidated by his height.

‘You know, you shouldn’t walk around so scantily dressed. You’re not in Kansas any more.’

Lena’s anger pounded through her body. ‘I don’t think what I wear is any of your business.’

He backed off and his face closed. ‘Just concerned for your safety.’

‘You seem to have a thing for that, don’t you?’

Was it her imagination or did he just flinch? She couldn’t be sure of anything with Bulldog. He was about as decipherable as a menu in a Japanese restaurant. ‘Well, for your information,’ she added to soften the blow, if that’s what it had been,
‘usually there’s no one in here at beer o’clock. So I feel safe to wear whatever I want without being harassed.’

‘They’ll find out.’ He shrugged, pushing his dark damp hair off his forehead. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’ On these cryptic words, he turned and walked out, leaving Lena simmering like a nearly done curry.

He was insufferable, domineering and completely arrogant. And yet, pleasing him was now her number one priority. A sure way to prove her worth was to meet Bulldog’s impossible standards. She returned to the machine and began pumping iron again, barely even noticing the rise and fall of the bar as she made the decision to nail Carl to the floor first thing in the morning. She had to sort this progress thing out. Make sure she knew what slack she needed to make up. Bulldog was going to get his extra ten per cent if it killed her.

Just keep it professional.

She bit her lip, tasting blood and sweat. But she kept pumping: it helped her focus on her feelings. She was under no illusions. For some insane reason, she was attracted to the idiot. She had to pack that away and never look at it again. With a heavy breath, she released the weight, stood up and wiped the sweat from her brow. At least this time she knew what trap she could be walking into.