“Oh.” I swivel around on the stool and put my back to him. “I didn’t know that.” The room rings silent.
“Of course you know that,” he replies with temper. “I have never heard a woman talk the way you do.” There’s an audible swallowing sound. “You’ve got to be more careful with what you say to guys.”
“I have never in my life said anything like this to another guy, and I resent the insinuation.” I peek over my shoulder. Can this excruciating moment end now? One more tiny micro freeze frame and my brain’s got it forever. It’s now in the vault. It’s a really big vault.
“This is humiliating.” He tuts and huffs. “Are you this filthy with any half-decent-looking guy that catches your eye?”
“I’m this filthy with you. Only you. And you’re not just ‘half-decent.’ I’ve seen Michelangelo’s David in Florence. You make him look like a pin-dicked garden gnome.”
“Done, guys?” Truly calls out.
I wave my hand in panic. “Nearly! Let’s talk about something really neutral. Like, the house renovation. How’s that going? Tell me all about it.”
“Okay,” he says, sounding encouraged.
“Talk about the guttering or the vents. That big water stain on the kitchen ceiling, how’s that coming along? Or the …” I dig deep. “The trellis. The pipes. The architraves and the finials and the—”
He cuts in, despairing. “I think you saying vaguely architectural terms is making it worse.”
“You weirdo.” I hear myself a little differently now. Is it really a sexy voice? I’m pretty sure the most response I’ve ever elicited from Tom has been dilated pupils. Now I’m in a room that contains his hard dick.
Safer. Keep him safer.
Another minute ticks by. “Okay,” he says, strained. “Do it.”
I take about ten shots and before I even tell him we’re done, he’s bending over, jamming his legs into his pants, still wearing the Underswears. He explodes out of the room, almost knocking over Truly.
“You owe me more than a steak dinner,” Tom says to her as he departs at speed. “You owe me a steak dinner on a cruise ship.”
Truly comes back inside. “What did you do to him?”
“I’m really not sure,” I say, patting sweat off my brow. “But I don’t think we’re getting those underpants back.”
Chapter 14
Status update: So tired I’m possibly dying. And it’s only Thursday.
I stand in the bathroom with my hands on my hips and look at the wall. I’ve never intentionally demolished a room before. “Ben, can you give me an outline on what I’m supposed to do?”
The strangest words trigger me back to the Underswears photo shoot. Like outline.
Ben’s the one I can trust to give me advice that won’t result in my fucking something up. Alex only knows how to carry heavy things and laugh at jokes. Colin’s still on my shit list and I am almost certain he’s Jamie’s mole. I’ve been feeding him bogus information in an attempt to flush him out.
“Getting the tiles off the walls would be a good start. Use … this.” I try not to look at Ben’s shiny dome while he rummages in a box of tools. He gives me a short crowbar. “Carefully, now. It’s easy to put a hole in the wall if you just start smashing.”
He toes an empty cardboard box over to me. “They’ll be sharp. Wear goggles, too. There’s a bin outside, but Alex will do the lifting. Then after that, take up the floor tiles.”
“Fine. Thanks.” Having a clearly defined task is like heaven. I knot my baggy tank at my hip and pull my jeans up a little. Gloves on. I put the goggles on the top of my head.
Tom passes the door and halts. We make eye contact, then he looks at the crowbar in my hand. His eyelids flutter and his body misses a step, like he’s just seen something he can’t bear. Do I look ridiculous? Is he imagining me hurting myself?
Actually, I remember what he got like when I talked to him about architraves. I swing the crowbar. “Is this a look that works for you?”
He swallows and nods. “Ah, yeah.”
From up his ladder, Colin shakes his head at us wearily. We never learn.
By now, this same little loop is becoming ingrained: Tom walks past and gets distracted by me, and something in another part of the house fucks up. I am a human curse.
I jerk my thumb. “Keep walking.” He does, looking flustered.
Colin says, “I don’t think he expects you to actually demo.”
“I think I’ve explained several times that I am part of the crew, right?” I wipe sweat from my brow with my forearm. I’ve had to accept that I am forever glistening. “Did you get your tax details to Tom?”
Colin sulks. “Not yet.”
“Oh really, Mr. Paperwork?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to order him to get them in by five. But I won’t. I’ll stay behind the line that Tom drew for me.
I can’t help but notice that Colin looks kind of cool, standing up there against the white wall background. I pick up my camera and take a quick shot. I frown at the screen. I can do better than that.
I adjust the settings, reframe, and the second shot is a lot better. Like, a lot. “How’d you like to be my muse?” I ask Colin. He doesn’t bother acknowledging my existence.
I put the camera aside. Two pictures of a human face among the shots of electrical outlets and cracked skirting boards. Tom might be proud of me for that. How weird that it’s awful old Colin that’s inspired me.
I press my palm against the first tile in the row. It feels completely sacrilegious, but I put the edge of the crowbar on the top of the tile and it just … pops off. I’m too slow to catch it and it shatters at my feet.
Tom’s head almost instantly appears at the doorjamb.
“Be careful.” He’s regretting this big-time. “Yeah, wait,” he says to someone else. It’s an impressive juggling act: supervising an entire worksite, and personally supervising my every move.
“I’m fine.” I pop off more tiles into my palm and drop them into a cardboard box. “I’m one of the guys now, right?” I say to Colin, who laughs without humor and says sure. “Bye, Tom. See you later.”