by Sarah Smith
Kaitlin hands me a box of my favorite chocolate truffles. “For babysitting last weekend. You’re an angel. Ethan and I needed that date night like you wouldn’t believe.”
I toss the gold box in my purse. “Of course. I’m always on call as a babysitter for you guys.”
“I mean it. You’re more of an aunt to her than my own sister is. That blanket and plushie you bought her are her absolute favorites. And the baby shower you threw.” She shakes her head, a wistful smile on her face. “Everyone still raves about it, and it’s been over a year. No one’s ever done something so thoughtful and sweet for me in my life.”
She gives my leg a soft squeeze, and I can’t help but grin. Kaitlin’s shower was a blast. Pink streamers and balloons everywhere, and a multitiered cake from her favorite local bakery. I stayed up until two a.m. the night before baking macarons for the gift bags. It was exhausting but worth it. Anything for my amazing best friend and her perfect baby.
“You’re wonderful for spending your free time with this little one.” Kaitlin tickles Libby’s socked foot.
Spending time with baby Libby is a joy, and I’m more than happy to be her go-to babysitter. Besides, it’s not like my Saturday nights are all that busy since I’m a single woman with zero dating prospects.
“I can’t believe she’s almost a year old already,” I say. “She’s going to be walking soon, you know.”
Kaitlin groans. “I know, oh God. Then she’ll be running around, crashing into things. She’s growing so fast.”
“She looks exactly like you.”
When Libby finishes her ice cube, she’s all smiles. I turn her around on my lap so she faces the playground area. Both Libby and Kaitlin have honey blond hair, green eyes, and angelic rosebud mouths.
“Is Ethan annoyed his baby looks nothing like him?”
Kaitlin laughs and shakes her head. “Not at all. He says he’s happy to have a beautiful baby girl who looks just like her mom.”
I laugh through a bittersweet tinge. It’s an odd feeling being the last single one in my circle of close friends. Whenever they talk about their lives or I spend time with their families, it’s a gentle reminder of how far behind I am in the relationship department. Nearly a yearlong dry spell and counting.
I blow a raspberry on Libby’s back and she giggles. “The sound of a baby’s laughter is exactly what I need to hear after the day I’ve had,” I say.
“What happened?”
“Just annoying work stuff. I have to do a project with that jerkoff coworker I told you about. We had a planning session today, and he was a total prick. Shoot, sorry.” I shouldn’t use such salty language in front of Libby and the surrounding little ones.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kaitlin says with a wink. “You should hear the words I use when I’m on two hours of sleep and this little diva is screeching like a beast.”
“Like, the project was his idea in the first place. Why did he even suggest working with me if all he’s going to do is insult my ideas and make cutting remarks? How we’ll get through this without losing it on each other, I have no idea.” I press a kiss to the back of Libby’s head.
“Do you think you should report him to management for how he’s acting?”
“There’s an idea.” Reporting Tate seems like such a tattletale thing to do. Kaitlin is right, though. I have every right to stand up for myself if he crosses a line.
“Is work going well otherwise?”
“Still surviving as the steely ice queen.”
She nudges me lightly with her elbow. “Ice queen? No way. You’re a girl boss who works hard, kicks butt, and lets no crap slide. I admire you so much.”
I purse my lips. It’s sweet of Kaitlin to rave about me, but part of me wonders if it’s a little sad that this trait she respects about me is actually something that I have to fake. I shove the thought aside.
“How’s Addy doing?” Kaitlin asks.
“Fantastic. She’s a month into her yearlong backpacking trek with Ryan. I’m having a hard time concealing my jealousy.”
“Where are they now?”
“Costa Rica. I’m supposed to Skype with her in a few days to catch up.”
“To be twenty-four and traveling Central and South America with your boyfriend.” Kaitlin smooths her hand over Libby’s hair.
“Tell me about it.” I bounce Libby gently on my lap. “Though they’re going the affordable, minimalist route, staying in hostels. No resorts or hotels on their itinerary. Not sure if you’d be into that.”
Kaitlin gives me a playful nudge.
“But I’m happy my little sister was able to find a guy as crunchy granola as her,” I say.
Addy and I are typical close sisters with vastly different personalities. I’m reserved and quiet while she’s bold and outgoing. She lives for off-the-grid adventures, while I’d rather laze around on a beach. She saves money to take a year off work and travel abroad with her boyfriend. I can’t imagine being away on vacation for more than two weeks. I live for the comforts of home.
Kaitlin rubs my shoulder. “Are you doing okay? I know it was hard when she moved in with Ryan.”
“I miss living with my baby sister of course, but Ryan is a great guy, and I couldn’t be happier for her.”
Despite my humdrum tone, it’s all true. Ryan is a catch and is one of the sweetest guys I know, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to feeling lonely in my two-bedroom duplex without Addy. I’ve tried my best to keep it to myself, though. Addy doesn’t need to worry about her antisocial big sister missing her too much.
Kaitlin’s phone rings, and I play with Libby on the playground while she chats. Crawling on the floor with a one-year-old is surprisingly therapeutic. Once she’s off the phone, we head to the food court. Watching Libby destroy a plate of chicken nuggets in her high chair is exactly what I need to get me out of my frustrated funk. I drive home feeling more centered and calm. I’m myself again.
four
Tate’s banged-up face greets me from across the hall the following morning. My jaw drops the moment I fall into my chair. His left eye is swollen, and his cheekbone is scraped to hell. Shades of green, purple, and red speckle his ivory skin. I try to remain discreet in my gawking, but he catches me before I can look away.
He gazes back at me, unblinking. Classic irritated stare. “What?”
I turn to my computer and log on, wondering if I should ignore him. I can’t. I’m too curious.
“What happened to your face?”
“I mouthed off to the missus.”
“Ha ha. You’re not even married.”
“Brilliant deduction, Emmie.” He shakes his head. I wonder if he’s hungover too. He looks like it. “Rugby. Had a match last night.”
“How very un-American,” I say, raising an eyebrow. He glances up at me, a hint of amusement on his face. I wonder how close I am to making him laugh.
A second passes and the amusement is gone. He’s serious again. “During one of the scrums, a guy in the pack got especially jerky with his elbows, and I caught one to the face.”
“Maybe you should be more mindful of where you position your face.” I shrug at him.
“Jesus, Emmie.” The scowl he shoots me could melt rust from metal.
“It was just a joke,” I mutter. And with that, he’s back to full-on irritation.
Will struts out of his office to Tate’s door. “Hey, did that tweet you sent about the circular saw sale— What in God’s name happened to your face?” He jolts back, bumping into the wall. I stifle a laugh.
“Rugby,” Tate says with a huff. “Got a little rough last night.”
Will whistles through his front teeth. “Yikes, my man. You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He shakes his head while shutting his eyes. “You sure? You want some ice? A Band-Aid?”
“If you say so.”
A soft buzz echoes through the tiny space. Will looks down at his cell. “Ah crap. Hey, would you . . .”
Will clams up when he notices Tate pick up his office phone. He walks the four steps to my office, his face in a worried frown.
I’ve got a mountain of product descriptions and press releases to write for the charity homebuilding project this morning, but I can’t help but take pity. “Need some help, Will?”
“Yeah. Sawyer Custom Contracting is donating some building supplies to us for the homebuilding project. I promised Lynn I would meet their rep downstairs and thank them for the donation, but I forgot I’ve got a conference call. Can you maybe run down there and shake hands with the guy and tell him thanks for me?”
Oh, Will and his forgetfulness.
“No problem.”
Heavy footsteps follow me when I walk down the hall. I twist around and see Tate shuffling to catch up.
“I thought you were on the phone?”
He shrugs, darting to walk ahead of me. I lengthen my stride to keep up.
“Will said the guy would be dropping off supplies. You probably don’t want to haul all that by yourself, right?”
When we reach the loading bay downstairs, I zero in on a guy sporting a maroon T-shirt with “Sawyer Custom Contracting” printed in white on the back. He turns around, and I get a proper close-up. Light brown hair with sparkling caramel eyes. He’s an inch or two shorter than Tate and built like a concrete wall. Muscles bulge from everywhere. Chest, thighs, calves, arms, shoulders, back. The short-sleeve shirt he’s wearing is doing an excellent job of showing off all the long hours he must put in at the gym. I catch myself smiling at him. He grins back through a well-groomed beard. I’ve never been so happy for Will to double-book himself.
He extends his hand to shake, and I accept. Rough, calloused skin glides against mine. I swoon internally.
“I’m guessing you’re not Will,” he says with a half smile.
I shake my head, swallowing back a laugh. “You’d be correct. I’m Emmie. I work in Will’s department. He’s in a meeting, so he sent me instead.”
“I’m so glad.” His half smile turns whole. “Jamie. Pleasure to meet you. You have a beautiful name, by the way.”
“Oh gosh, thanks.” I gaze into his perfectly straight white teeth, which glow against his healthy tan. Trying to keep my grin from growing too comically big is a struggle. “Will wanted me to say thank you for donating the supplies and hauling them all the way over here.”
“No problem at all. I just—”
Tate’s throat-clear interrupts us. Jamie’s gaze moves to my left, recognition hitting his eyes. “Whoa, hey, Tate. How’s it going? I didn’t know you worked here.”
“You never asked,” he says in his trademark no-nonsense tone. Why does he always have to be so curt?
I glare at him for a second, then blink it away. Jamie rubs the back of his neck, clearly jolted by his response.
“You two know each other?” My eyes bounce between them.
“We go to the same rock climbing gym,” Jamie says.
That would explain Jamie’s killer physique.
“No way,” I mutter. They both offer silent nods.
Jamie hooks his thumb toward the pile of supplies lying nearby. “I took the liberty of unloading them so you wouldn’t have to.”
“How sweet.” I employ a smidgen of fake work confidence and hold his gaze. My intensity is a bit lower than the boss-bitch toughness I save for difficult coworkers, but the same boldness is there.
“Don’t get too excited,” Tate mutters. “We still have to haul it to the warehouse.”
Jamie points to a nearby dolly. “I’d be happy to help you do that, man.”
“Nah. I’ve got it.” Tate’s stern response is practically a bark. He stomps to the warehouse, leaving Jamie and me alone.
“Pretty cool that your company is building a house with Midwest Family Homes. My company is too. I’m one of the lead contractors on the project.”
“Really?” My stomach jumps at the thought that I might see handsome Jamie again, hammering away at the worksite, hopefully sweaty and sans a shirt.
“If our worksites are anywhere close to each other, you’ll have to stop by and say hello.”
“Definitely.”
We keep eye contact a beat longer than you normally would with someone you’ve just met. I give myself a mental fist bump for the fun result this bout of faking it brings me.
The squeak of metal wheels dragging against the floor yanks us away from our flirty banter. Tate pushes a massive platform truck in our direction.
“We ready to haul this stuff?” Tate parks it so close to Jamie that he has to take a step back.
Jamie frowns at him. “I thought you said you didn’t need any help.”
Tate chucks box after box of supplies onto the flatbed. “I changed my mind.”
Together the three of us load it up and deliver the supplies to the warehouse to be unloaded. We follow Jamie back to his truck.
“All that rock climbing must have paid off. You two made light work of that.”
Tate scowls while Jamie graces me with a half smile. I blush.
He pulls a pen and paper from his back jeans pocket. “Can I get your signature on this form? Just so I can prove to my boss I dropped the supplies off at the right place.”
I sign it.
Tate takes a drink from the nearby water fountain before doubling back. “We done here, then?” He crosses his arms while scowling at Jamie and me. “We’ve got plenty of work to do today. No sense wasting time standing around and staring at one another.”
Instead of rolling my eyes like I want to, I blink. My normal daily to-do list at work has grown. In addition to those press releases, I have a marketing plan to flesh out for the charity homebuilding project, thanks to Tate.
I lift my hand in a small wave to Jamie. “It was nice to meet you.” I start to walk away behind Tate, then flip back around. “Your pen. Sorry.”
Jamie takes the pen, brushing my fingers for a long second. I feel my cheeks heat, then he hands it back to me. “Nah. You hang on to it.”
“Why?” I giggle like a giddy schoolgirl who’s been noticed by the hot guy in class. What a dork I am.
“Because it’ll give you an excuse to find me at the worksite.” The slick way he raises his eyebrow, it’s like he’s smirking without moving his mouth.
“Can’t wait.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears, fumbling with Jamie’s pen in my free hand. My response makes me sound weirdly gung ho. I manage to keep a polite smile on my face while I cringe on the inside. My God, am I out of practice at this flirting thing. For a moment I try to think of something witty and cute to say to recover, but instead I let the pause rest between us. What would a confident, unflappable woman do? Let him think of something to say.
He lets out a soft laugh. “I can’t wait either.” I swear there’s a cheeky gleam in his eye before he waves good-bye and climbs back into his truck.
By the time I’m upstairs, I’m officially on cloud nine. It’s silly how a minor exchange with a handsome stranger has my insides all mushed up, but I’m currently in the middle of an eleven-month dry spell. I may be jumping the gun a bit, but I’m sick of waiting around.
“You’re flirting with contractors now?” Tate says the moment I pass his open door.
When I look up at him sitting behind his desk, he’s flipping through his notepad, not even looking at me.
The smile drops from my face. “Excuse me?”
“I overheard the meathead chatting you up around the corner.”
“Wow. Eavesdrop much?” He is the king of rude today.
“I have to say, I never thought of you as someone who goes gaga over office supplies.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“He gives you a special pen and you’re all smiles. It’s a bit much is all I’m saying.” His fingers make air quotes when he says “special.” Sarcasm drips from his voice with a biting undercurrent of contempt.
My sudden happiness is smashed. “No one forced you to listen.”
“It was hard to ignore. His voice carries.”
“Whatever. You were so rude to him.”
A hot flash hits my skin when I sit at my chair. I peer over my computer monitor at him. Tate finally pays me eye contact.
“He’s not as dreamy as you seem to think.”
His words sting, and the eye roll he directs at me only deepens the burn.
“Oh, come on. It was so obvious how giddy you were. You think you’re the only woman who’s ever captured his attention? You should see how women throw themselves at him at the gym.”
His words punch me in the gut. I have one happy moment in front of him, and all he can think to do is tear it apart. I shake my head, annoyed that yet again I’m allowing him to infuriate me. I wonder what shade of red my face is right now.
“Of course you would say that,” I say after a hard swallow. “You’re so pissy and hostile, you wouldn’t know how to handle a normal, pleasant interaction if it fell in your lap.” It’s not until I’m done speaking that I realize how bitter I sound.
“All I’m saying is, up your standards a bit. Find something else in life to bring you joy other than a muscly guy with a pen.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m just another cute thing for Jamie to flirt with, and I’m so out of practice that I didn’t even realize it.
I shake my head to halt the negative thoughts. No. It was a short, fun, flirty exchange, and I enjoyed it. Nothing more, nothing less. Tate has no right to ruin it.
“I was just being nice. And he was just being nice, which is more than I can say for you.”
When he rolls his blue-gray eyes at me once more, my hands ball into fists. He tilts his head to the side, like I’m a child and he’s an adult teaching me a valuable lesson.