by Sara Daniel
“Don’t go too far. I need to hand the equipment up to you.”
She was no expert, but that likely involved looking down. “What are the chances I’ll fall over the edge?”
“Slim, as long as you don’t dangle by your feet from the gutters. Grab the pitchfork when it comes up.” Although he sounded like he was rolling his eyes at her, he lifted the pronged metal tool high enough that she didn’t have to look down. Unfortunately, more tools followed—another pitchfork, two hammers, a bucket, and—
“What is that?” She stared as two handles and a big metal tub rose in front of her.
“A wheelbarrow. Take it. Hurry.”
She grabbed the handles, but it was heavy, and she was terrified she was going to plunge face-first onto the unforgiving concrete walkway below.
Matt climbed the ladder, pushing the bottom of the wheelbarrow with him onto the rooftop. Veronica scrambled up the steep slope with the handles, while Matt laid the wheelbarrow tub upside-down on the shingles, its single wheel pointed toward the sky. Her knees felt weak, so she sat next to it. Maybe if she’d been raised for this kind of work since birth it would be different, but going on a roof was, well, something people hired a roofing company to do.
“Just making sure I’m steady before I start working,” she assured Matt. Right now she didn’t have enough nerve to slide to the edge of the roof and climb down the ladder to leave the job. There were absolutely no railings or other protective devices to make for safe working conditions.
He grabbed a pitchfork and shoved it underneath the roof material inches from where she was sitting. He leaned his weight on the fork’s handle, then reached down with a gloved hand and ripped the shingle off.
“It looks the same underneath,” Veronica said. The picture in the book had prepared her for bare wood.
“Yep, another layer.” Matt worked the pitchfork again.
“Ah, so we’re down to the underwear in your stripping scenario.”
“Well, really the top layer was the sweater. Now we’re down to the actual clothes.” After a couple pokes, he popped out a chunk. It flew across the roof, revealing a black surface. “This is the underwear,” he proclaimed. He ripped away the black paper-like material that she’d forgotten the real name of, exposing naked wood underneath.
“No matter what you call it, you’re still not going to convince me this job is sexy,” Veronica said. She stood slowly, brushing the grit from the back of her pants.
“If anyone can find a way, it’s you.”
She raised a brow, her heart beating faster. “Is that a compliment?”
“Just a fact. Pry the shingles up with a pitchfork.” He went straight back to all-business mode.
She stood, frozen. He thought she was sexy in her gritty pants, denim work blazer, and wearing an expression of near terror?
“Be careful not to damage the plywood underneath. Pile them in the wheelbarrow. When it’s full, throw it over the side of the roof into the Dumpster.” He held the pitchfork out to her, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
She tried to copy his impersonal demeanor. “What are you going to do while I work? Go back to the office and clean your desk?” The state of his office intrigued her even more than the revelation that he just might find her attractive. She’d never be as good as Matt at the manual labor, but she could get his office in order. She could create an amazing filing system in a month’s time.
“Trust me, there’s plenty of roof for both of us.”
Resigned, she took the pitchfork. It was clumsy and other than feeding Paul Bunyan his dinner, it seemed like a useless tool, regardless of what her book said. She poked at a shingle. Nothing. “Wouldn’t a shovel work better?” She was pretty sure the book had recommended using one at some point. She at least understood the concept of a shovel.
“You have to get under them.” Matt walked behind her and encircled her, covering her hands on the pitchfork handle. His tan biceps bulged in her peripheral vision; his breath caressed her neck. Her knees melted into Jell-O for reasons that had nothing to do with a sloping roof.
“You have to put your whole body into it.” His uneven breathing against her ear made her unsure if he was talking about the job.
“That suggestion’s not exactly helpful,” she pointed out, trying to get back the lightness they’d been sharing. She needed him to back up and give her space to concentrate on the roof and not his warmth against her back. If she wanted to prove to her grandfather that she should be trusted with a bigger responsibility, she had to maintain a professional working relationship with Matt.
She attacked the shingles with double the gusto. Before she left this roof, she’d get him to see she was serious about making their temporary work relationship benefit both of them.
And if she were lucky, she’d work so hard she’d forget all about her inconveniently growing attraction to her boss, too.
…
Veronica had made some progress, evidenced by a small bare patch of roof she’d unearthed and the equally small pile of shingles at her feet. Matt pretended he wasn’t watching her as he tore off the old roofing on the opposite side of the peak. She pulled up a couple shingles from the first layer and went back to chipping at the bottom layer with the pitchfork.
She stopped once to strip off her jacket, and he wished he hadn’t brought up the clothing analogy when he’d explained the layers on the roof. Now he was too aware of how many layers she had to go before she reached bare skin. The pink shirt she’d just exposed would likely be filthy beyond redemption by the time the job was complete.
She pulled back another shingle with her hands. It broke free, sending her staggering backward. But she didn’t whine about how far beneath her the physical labor was—she didn’t even glance at him.
Matt hadn’t figured out exactly who Veronica was, but she’d already proven she was made of stronger stuff than Kimberly, who had turned up her nose at any job where he could have used a second pair of hands, whether it was pitching a tent or changing the oil in his truck. Despite her superficial tendencies, he’d loved her.
Then three years ago, life had thrown him a curveball when Steve and Leah died. He swallowed the lump that still lodged in his throat when he remembered the exact moment he’d gotten the call about the accident. As his girlfriend, Kimberly had put her life on hold long enough to accompany him out of her city comfort zone.
But when it became obvious his move home needed to be permanent for Jenny’s sake and to save Kortville Construction from ruin, she’d let him know in no uncertain terms she wasn’t the woman for the job, not when she had so many more appealing options than being a stepaunt and wife of a construction worker. Matt didn’t expect Veronica to last anywhere near to the end of the month, but she’d already far exceeded his expectations for what she would put up with.
Matt took his overflowing wheelbarrow to the Dumpster, dangling it by its handles over the peak of the roof. When he turned around, Veronica was watching him. She didn’t appear to be gathering her voice to tell him off. More than likely, she was about to beg for a break. He’d give her a nice long one in the shade and make sure she drank plenty of water, too.
“I’m ready to load that thing now,” she said.
No break? All right, then. Kudos to her.
He wheeled it to her and took her pitchfork, widening the area with a few well-placed strokes and giving her a lot more garbage to fill the wheelbarrow with. She loaded only half of it before she set off along the peak.
She wobbled and steered like her blood alcohol was twice the legal limit, but she made it to the edge. She lifted the handles and…
The wheelbarrow vanished over the edge of the house.
Veronica screamed and stumbled.
She’s going to fall off the roof. “Let go of the wheelbarrow!” Matt shouted.
He dashed to her, arriving as the wheelbarrow landed with a terrific thud. He stared down. That thud could have been her body. Instead it was his he
art, pounding so hard his chest physically hurt.
Veronica froze next to him, hunkered down on her hands and knees.
He pulled her back from the edge to the middle of the peak and folded his arms around her. Her body was shaking from the close call. His was, too. She’d almost fallen off the roof, and it was his fault.
“I’m sorry.” Instead of returning his embrace, she clutched her arms across her chest, leaving dirty prints on her shirt.
“Take a break. I should have known better than to let you dump the load—it was too heavy.” His stomach twisted with guilt.
“Weren’t you trying to make me chicken out?”
He didn’t answer. Yes, he’d wanted evidence that she couldn’t follow through, so Ron could call this ridiculous deal off. Each minute on the job brought her closer to destroying everything his town was counting on for future generations.
He made sure she was able to stand on her own and then walked back to the edge of the roof to look down at the Dumpster. The wheelbarrow was dented, and the axel looked bent. But if he got it out before it was buried in debris, it wouldn’t be a total loss.
He returned to Veronica, his need to comfort her swirling in his head. She could use more reassurance, and he wanted to be the one to give it to her. But he needed her to admit she couldn’t do it. He’d changed the course of his life to stay in town and save Kortville Construction from ruin. Because his brother’s financial mess had been so awful, he hadn’t been able to save it without bringing in Ron’s investment, and now he was stuck with another rich girl. She’d proven she had more staying power beyond Kimberly’s superficial personality, but she still didn’t care that her presence put the entire town’s future in jeopardy.
“If you can’t do this, you have to tell Ron that you quit,” he said gently. “A lot of people can’t. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m sorry about the wheelbarrow. If the company can’t afford a replacement, I’ll buy one myself.” There was a quiet dignity in her voice that didn’t match the bright sheen threatening to spill out of her eyes. She walked to her work area and began picking up the loose shingles.
His stomach still in knots and conflicted over whether to hold her or treat her harshly enough that she’d quit immediately, Matt went back to hacking at his half of the roof, while watching her in his peripheral vision. She was more stubborn than he would have guessed. She couldn’t offer anything to his company, yet she continued to put every ounce of effort into the roof as if she had something to prove.
Down on the street, a door slammed. A moment later, Matt’s part-time worker, a high school student named Toby, popped his head above the eaves as he climbed the ladder. “Hey, man, I came to join you.”
“Hey, Toby.” Matt forced himself to relax so his employee wouldn’t pick up on his tension. “Don’t you have school today?”
“They let us out early—some kind of teacher’s work day.”
Matt narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure? The elementary school is in session all day, and if your sister finds out you were skipping to work again, she will chew me up one side and down the other.”
“I’ll handle Becca. You have your hands full.” Toby flicked his gaze at Veronica and waggled his eyebrows. “I thought you said she’d have quit by now.”
Matt just rolled his eyes.
“I saw Dwayne and Zack—they should be here with the shingles in fifteen minutes. Good thing I’m here. You guys have a long way to go before you’re ready to nail them down.” He picked up the pitchfork and went to work widening Veronica’s part of the roof.
“Matt expected I would have quit already?” Veronica set down the pile of shingles she’d been holding and stared at Toby.
He cleared his throat and looked panicked. “I meant I was surprised you and Matt weren’t working on the same area. If one person pries them loose and the other tosses them into the wheelbarrow, it goes faster. Where is the wheelbarrow, by the way?”
“Don’t ask.” Veronica smoothed her dirty T-shirt and held her hand out to Toby. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Veronica Jamison, Ron Walker’s granddaughter.”
“I’ve heard of you,” Toby said carefully without shaking her hand. “Where are your work gloves?”
Matt turned and looked at Veronica. She wasn’t wearing gloves. A sixteen-year-old kid had noticed right away, while Matt had watched her beat up her hands all morning and never gave it a thought.
“I didn’t know I needed any until I started playing with shingles.” She smiled as if it were no big deal. “It’s on my to-do list for my lunch break. Matt does give you lunch breaks, right?”
“I have an extra pair in my backpack.” Toby laid down the pitchfork. “I’ll be right back.” He took a couple steps and stopped in front of Matt. “I know you don’t like her and with good reason, but man, if it were me, I’d have quit long before you turned my hands into hamburger.” Toby sidestepped him and headed for the ladder.
Matt marched across the roof and grabbed Veronica’s hands, shaking off the broken shingle pieces she’d picked up. Her knuckles were seriously scraped up, but she’d never said a word. He flipped her hands palm up. They were filthy, of course, and blistered, with an oozing scratch on her left palm. Two blisters had already broken.
He looked up at her sweaty, dirt-streaked face and wished she would let him have it. Throw in his face that back in her real life, she’d never have given him the time of day. Say something about how she should get work credit while sitting in a lawn chair sipping lemonade. Anything so he could legitimately be angry with her and not feel like he was kicking a puppy. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
She stuck her chin out with determination. “So you can laugh at me for skipping over a chapter in my book? No thanks.”
“I am not laughing at any body part that looks like it’s been put through a blender.”
“I’m doing the work,” she shot back. “Not as well or as fast as you—but I’m doing it, and I’ll get it done.”
“When was your last tetanus shot?”
She pulled her hands free. “I’m current, and I can take care of myself.”
Not with the way he was working her over. Kimberly had packed up and gone home after Matt, overwhelmed with his new responsibilities, had made it clear he needed her to pitch in and meet him halfway. He’d counted on the same from Veronica. He’d underestimated this woman, and that scared him more than he wanted to admit. “I’m the boss, and I say you are done for the day.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “My grandfather gave me the job. If—if you fire me, he’ll hire me back.”
Matt wasn’t firing her. He was giving her a break, one that she deserved, and he was trying to apologize while still retaining an appropriate boss-employee distance instead of holding her in his arms. “I would never do a roofing project without gloves. I didn’t offer you a pair or check if you brought your own. I failed in my on-the-job training. I’m going to take you home and help you clean those scrapes. The last thing I need is you getting an infection that goes on my conscience.”
“Oh, you have a conscience? Learn something new every day.” She brushed by him toward the ladder.
He hadn’t killed her spunk. Matt smiled.
Despite trying not to, she’d made him like her anyway. Under different circumstances, he could imagine it growing into something more.
“Toby, thanks for the offer of gloves, but I’m going home,” Veronica said from the top of the ladder. “If I can get down.”
“Turn around and go backward, feet first. You’re doing great.” Toby talked her through each step. He praised her work on the roof and said all the nice things Matt should have said if he’d been smart enough to try to sweet-talk her into quitting. Or considerate enough to act like a real boss.
By the time her feet were on the ground, Veronica and Toby were joking about the piles of papers in the office and the wheelbarrow she’d dropped in the Dumpster. “Do you need a ri
de home?” he asked.
“To the office would be great. Matt can concentrate on fixing his wheelbarrow, which will hopefully put him in a better mood for the next batch of people he orders around.”
“I’m driving her.” Matt glared down the ladder at Toby. “You get Zack and Dwayne to help you finish clearing the roof.”
“Sure, boss.” Toby’s look indicated he thought Matt’s reasons for staying with Veronica didn’t have much to do with a guilty conscience at all.
Only a real jerk would take advantage of a woman after she was bruised and battered from the work he’d forced on her. Of course, Matt had already proven himself a first-class jerk.
…
Veronica held her throbbing hands in her lap and stared out the window. This shortened workday drive with Matt was becoming too familiar. She had to get away from him. She couldn’t continue to put up the facade that all was fine when she could only sit and catalog her blistered hands, dirty face, and tattered clothes.
She was an embarrassment to the Jamison name. For that matter, the Walker name, too. Her grandfather couldn’t be too proud of the walking disaster she’d become on her first two days on the job. Even the guys who mowed her parents’ lawn wore gloves.
She’d known when she drove into town that she was going to work for a construction company. She should have bought gloves. In bulk. But she’d been so focused on what she was going to do with her life after the thirty days, she hadn’t considered the details of how she would get through a month of manual labor.
Matt stopped the truck in front of her trailer. The loose end of the duct tape slapped in the breeze against the broken front window. By the time she worked up the energy to reach for the handle, he had rounded the hood and opened the door. He held out his hand to her.
“It’s a little late to be chivalrous.” And it was easier to pretend she was strong when he treated her like an employee and not a friend.