by R. T. Wolfe
Flying over the Midwest, Andy reviewed the changes he'd made in the plans for his summer. Much like his computer aided drafting design class, he backed up, made some alterations and created an even better design. He used caution and planned to check the design frequently. Rose may be smart and sexy but she was also young and naïve.
They'd had the comfortable parts of a relationship for years. That foundation so many couples lacked. The trust. Falling into that dance of give and take and working it unconsciously. Now, they had fire. Dancing with the flames was easier when you knew you had steel underneath to hold you up.
He spotted her in the terminal almost instantly, biting her nails with wide eyes. She wore jeans, pleasantly on the tight side, light blue Chucks and a matching blue blouse. Very Rose. With one exception. She wore her hair in silky, loose waves that framed her face and hung over her shoulders. He suspected she did that to get to him. Smart girl. He was speechless, which rarely happened to Andrew Reed. It was easy to tell when she found him; her eyes softened and she sealed her lips together like she always did. Amazing. He winked as he inched along in the middle of the line exiting the boarding ramp.
When he cleared the line of passengers, she ran toward him much like she did when he'd visited her at the construction site in early spring. Only this time, she threw her arms around him and showered his face with kisses.
He grabbed her hands as he found her lips, kissing her hard before bothering with words. As he pulled away, he moved his face to her hair and inhaled.
"Are you smelling my hair?"
"Shh."
She sighed and he could feel her cheeks on his as they expanded into a smile.
He pulled her face away and looked in one eye, then the other and back again.
"Better?" she asked.
"Mmm. Hello." He kissed her again.
Rose tried to take one of his carry-ons, but he laughed.
"How are your biceps?"
She scrunched her brows. "Fine, I guess."
"That's good because I have a lot more downstairs."
It wasn't an exaggeration. Expertly, he piled smaller luggage on top of the bigger pieces, then draped the rest on both of their shoulders.
"You all right under there?"
"Yep. Black belt."
* * *
Pulling off the Three-Ninety South at a small town for breakfast, they found a cozy, hole-in-the-wall diner and sat on opposite sides of a cracked Formica table framed in metal. The place boasted seating for a total of about fifteen on worn chairs with lined vinyl and had the best French toast they'd ever tasted.
Rose speared a small square of the amazing toast and dunked it in syrup as Andy leaned back in his seat.
Cautiously, he turned his head and looked at her through the corners of his eyes. "I found a job in town for the summer."
She stopped the forkful of dripping French toast at her lips for a staggering minute.
"I'll be working for a general contractor. I start Monday morning, no break there, but—"
"Are you crazy?" Her fork dropped to her plate. "Are you stupid? What the hell are you thinking?"
"Okay." He set his fork down carefully. "Not the reaction I expected."
Heat started at the base of her neck and quickly ran over her cheeks. "You've been pining for a summer with your uncle, Chase, since you were eleven. This is your dream. Call him back!" She practically bounced out of her chair.
Andy grabbed her arm. "Calm the hell down. I know what I'm doing. This is good. Listen for minute. If you don't stop waving your arm, they're gonna kick us out of here."
She sighed, pulled her hand from him and crossed her arms.
"Greenberg Contractors. Chase knows the owner. He builds houses, buildings, subdivisions. I'll be the miscellaneous man. I should be able to get experience with all the different stages of building, and why am I explaining myself to you? I thought you'd be happy."
Her breathing slowed and she closed her eyes. "Okay. I think. I'm sorry. I think. It just sounded like you were ready to throw away your future... I'm sorry," she repeated. She looked up at his face. "You're not leaving."
She realized she said it like she'd just had an epiphany. Her eyes burned and she dropped her face in her hands. She felt one rough finger under her chin. Lifting her head to look at him, she refused to let the tears spill over. He ran his thumb along her cheek and she looked deep into the caramel of his eyes. They sat at the small, square table in the little town restaurant and had a complete conversation without speaking a word.
It felt like a noose had been released from around her throat. Her heart. Her mind went into overdrive at the possibilities as her breathing returned to accelerated. Didn't her mother say it was the boys that didn't want to just kiss?
"You're blushing." He craned his head forward. "I'm not sure I've ever seen you flushed."
She felt her cheeks burn even hotter and turned her eyes to her food.
* * *
Andy spent the last days of May in the sun, working with his hands on everything from grading yards to helping pour foundations, framing houses and fixing leaky exterior doors and windows. Each aspect was fascinating, like solving a complex puzzle in orderly stages. Whenever Greenberg became backed up or someone called in sick, Andy stepped in.
He was low man on the totem pole everywhere he went, but he was building connections while making sure to leave an impression with builders and subcontractors all over central upstate New York. Life made so much more sense when he worked with his hands. And this time, it made more sense to him than he could ever remember... putting in a hard day's work and spending evenings with his best friend.
They made sure to try and spend at least some time together each night, although it didn't always work that way. Both their plates were full, as they generally were. It was just more irritating than it used to be. He quizzed her on her finals or worked with the pup if she had a job for his mom or volunteered at the zoo. If nothing else, they would catch a few minutes by the lake after nightfall.
Normally, they brought Charcoal with them and even let him off his leash if he allowed Goldie and Macey to saunter along. Tonight they lay, just the two of them, looking at the millions of stars freely illuminated without the lights of bigger cities. Rose was on her back using his arm as a pillow. The night was warm and dry and smelled of grass and fresh, drizzling water. They talked while he lay on his side, his hand resting on her stomach.
Interrupting, he poked at her belly and looked down. "You have washboard abs."
She laughed and looked up to him. "Isn't that something a girl says to a guy?"
"Probably."
She lifted her shirt and raised her shoulders up enough to flex her six-pack. She mentioned something about the contrast in color between their skin, but he left coherent thought behind the minute she'd pulled up her shirt.
Quickly, he pulled it back down and reluctantly willed himself to casually change the subject. "Graduation this weekend?" She shifted up on her elbow and eyed him suspiciously. "Subject change. Don't argue." Tricky, since he had, exactly, considered arguing. "Regardless, it's this weekend, and you have a speech to write."
"Written. So much for subject change. You don't want to touch me."
He gestured his free hand between the two of them, illustrating that they were touching. Practically from head to toe.
She fell back and sighed. "You've touched girls before. I suspect several girls and plenty of times."
"You don't understand—"
She pushed from the blanket to her knees and faced him, sitting back on her feet. "Don't tell me what I understand, Andrew Reed, and don't even start with what I want." She stuck a fingernail between her teeth, pulled it out, looked at it, then stuffed her hands deep in the pockets of her faded jeans. "I may have had my first kiss just a few weeks ago, as you feel you need to keep reminding me, but I'm not a little girl anymore and—"
"Okay," he interrupted and sat up fully, facing her, and rested his forearms on his propped kn
ees. "Then, I'll tell you what I know and what I want. I know that I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you longer than I realized. And what I want is to do this—" He gestured his hands between the two of them again "—right."
Rose sat there on her heels with her hands limp in her front pockets. Shoulders forward, she remained motionless for the longest damned time. Opened her mouth once, then closed it again. "Oh." She lay back on the blanket and pulled him down with her, rolling to rest her head on his chest. "I guess you're forgiven then."
"So, I'm forgiven. I can be forgiven all the way to another cold shower tonight," he murmured.
He could feel her round cheeks on his chest as they curled into a smile.
"It's a big decision." He clasped his hands and used them for a pillow. "I won't make it for you."
"Do I have to throw myself at you?" she said with both sarcasm and sincerity in her voice.
"That's my point. You don't have to do anything. That's not why I'm here." He reached over and kissed her forehead. "Last final tomorrow."
* * *
Andy rode on the edge of a three-to-a-bench seat in a shiny, red company truck. The dickhead rookie between him and the crew leader was one of Greenberg's masonry subs. Understanding that contacts mattered, he worked to brush off the dude's laziness and instead made a mental note of it for the day he would need a mason. He wouldn't be choosing him. They drove through a new subdivision where Greenberg owned several lots.
He grinned as they passed two redheads standing behind a pickup full of plants and shrubs. While her mom loaded containers into a wheelbarrow, Rose spread sunblock on her legs. Huh. So, she did remember to do that on her own. Spying on her as a fly on a wall was highly satisfying, except he wasn't the only one who watched her.
"Mother fucker, dude. Did you see that chick's hands on those long legs?"
The crew leader made no attempt to teach the asshole appropriate behavior while on the job. It took Andy several minutes to realize they weren't actually on the job.
Instead, he focused on two thoughts: the loose bricks around the front window of the next construction site and the weekend rock climbing trip he and Rose would leave for the next day. They'd already taken a few short day trips but couldn't spare an entire weekend until after graduation. Since she didn't die from her valedictorian speech, he guessed they were a go.
* * *
Miguel Ramirez—alias Michael Rainer, alias Maarten Ricks, alias whoever he felt like being that day—stood on the square-foot lawn of a house deep in Chicago. He could see Wrigley Field down the long street between rows of vehicles that were parked bumper to bumper.
The building of the bitch he was waiting on had been broken up into four apartments. Nearly a year since their last visit. He could always use some extra cash. Didn't really need any since the last two hits, but her place was on his way as he headed west.
He looked like an ordinary man in a busy metropolitan area, taking a smoke break before bed. He knew bitch lived in 3B. Knew her very, very well. He took time to study his girlfriends, as he liked to think of them.
He had girlfriends scattered all across the great US of A. It wasn't hard to keep them in line. Space out the visits. Change appearance whenever necessary. Scan the building for new security. Don't leave any tangible evidence. Scare the fucking shit out them.
Without moving his head, he followed the oncoming car with his eyes while keeping out of sight, leaning against a tree. His face reddened when a man got out of the bitch's car and walked around to open her door. The time he'd spent scouting her, four nights waiting in the fucking wind, was more than he would tolerate.
Then, he thought of how productive slicing the wimp's throat might be. He could use that to keep her in line. It worked good all the other times. People were murdered in a city this size all the time. He could spray a few gang signs and let the cops run with it.
As he felt for his trusty knife at the base of his pant leg, wimp guided her to the door of the building. Watching, Miguel realized she was blowing him off. Ha! What a tease. A peck on the mouth? No fucking way. She deserved what she was going to get.
He finished his cigarette while wimp threw his head back and laughed at something she said. Not gonna work, dumbass. He could still kill the mother fucker, just for the feel of it. So easy. He took the short set of steps in one leap just as wimp turned. Miguel purposely knocked shoulders with him, apologized using perfect American English, pocketed his wallet, and snatched the door before it latched. Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all. He took the stairs two at a time in his soft-soled shoes while slipping on his gloves and catching up to her in the hallway.
She turned with the anticipation of a woman half expecting her date to have changed his mind about third date sex. He locked her arms to her sides and used his body to push her up against the door to her apartment. The feel of her body tighten, then shake made him instantly rock hard.
"Go ahead and scream." He dug his fingers into her arm. "No, no, no." He grabbed the pepper spray she held in her hand. "Not unless you want to try it, baby." He chucked it down the hall and pressed her head, face first against her apartment door, hopefully cutting the skin along her eye socket. "Open it. Then, turn off that nice security system you had installed."
He loosened as she dug in her pocket for her keys and loved the way her hands trembled. "I told you what happens when you change the rules, baby. I always know. Maybe if you have a good load of cash in there and if you ask real nice, I won't hurt you... too bad."
* * *
They decided on leaving Charcoal. Rose turned her head and looked sideways at the puppy. "How does he know? Look at him. It's ridiculous."
Andy stopped loading ropes and equipment into her pickup to look at the pup. "Huh. He does know. We can take him."
"No." Not for what she had planned. She hadn't walked into the lingerie store and bought the skimpiest camisole and shorts set she could find just to have Charcoal in the way. And the drugstore. She wanted to hide her face just thinking about it.
"Hello? You there?" He gave her a friendly elbow jab and waved his hand in front of her face.
"Oh, crap." She left the drugstore bag in her room. "I'll just be a minute."
As she jogged up her porch steps, Andy called the dog over and gave him the command to lie.
Her mom must have heard her dart up the stairs, because she was waiting by the front door when she came back down.
"Remember to use your bug spray—"
"And sunblock." And condoms. "Got it. Love you."
Chapter 11
Together, Rose and Andy lounged next to the red coals of the campfire. Clouds thickened in the late hour, causing the stars to disappear in the deep gray. They ate hot dogs with the works and had an apple to compensate. The crickets were so noisy she and Andy could barely hear the bullfrogs from the river down the trail. Balmy evening air meant hot climbing the next day. She took off her shoes and socks and let her toes rest by the dwindling fire.
"Red?" She hadn't heard Andy's voice crack since the seventh grade.
"Hmm?" Noticing him gawking at her toes, she pressed her lips together. "Oh, yes... go on."
He went back to explaining about his summer job. "The contractors in the area are like a tight-knit clique of junior high girls. They won't let outsiders in and ambush them if they try." He kicked off his leather flip-flops and propped his feet next to hers. "I like it, though. Working as the low man, I've learned what the crew leaders and bosses do that pisses us off, or is just unproductive and stupid. I can use that when I have my own crew leaders and I'm the boss."
Only half listening, she took a deep breath, got up and stood in front of the fire.
"Have you decided when you'll give your two weeks no—" He sounded as if his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
With determination, she pulled off her tee. Underneath, she wore the low-cut satin with shoelace-thin straps. The color matched her toes.
Andy sat frozen with his ha
nds clasped tightly on the top of his head. The look on his face gave her more confidence. As she reached for the top button of her jean shorts, he jumped from his chair. "Wait. Damn it." Grabbing her by the wrists, he looked around. "We're outside. What're you thinking?"
She stepped close enough to brush against him. With one of the most honest and sincere looks she could muster, she looked up at him. "You know what I'm thinking."
Closing his eyes, Andy breathed deeply and stood for what seemed like eternity. "Yes. I know. And I don't have it in me to push you away again."
Sparks of anticipation traveled through every inch of her body before settling low in her stomach. Feelings so strong left her legs weak. She willed herself to stand strong.
Guiding her arms behind him, bringing her closer, Andy pressed their foreheads together. Painfully slow, his hands ran up the length of her arms and over her shoulders before resting on the sides of her neck. Softly, he whispered, "I've never done this... with anyone who's never done this."
"A first for both of us, then." Anxiously, she took his hand, pulling him toward their tent.
Inside, it was too small to stand. She sat on her heels, turned on the lantern and watched as he zipped them in.
When he turned, she stretched up on her knees to get back to the button on her jeans.
He took her hands away once more. "Let me."
As his thumbs rested on her wrists, he spoke low and deep. "Your pulse."
"I know. I can't help it."
"You're trying to kill me."
Need and anticipation raced through her. She felt her shorts loosen as he released her button. A reflexive, muffled purr escaped her throat. Rough hands slid into the sides of her shorts and over her hips.
They didn't need words. Hardly ever needed words. She leaned on one leg for him, then the other. He slipped her shorts over and tossed them aside before sitting back to look at her.
Was she supposed to feel exposed or embarrassed at the way his eyes traveled over her? All she felt was flattery at his awe. And need. And want. Her lips tightened.
"You're beautiful."