Lucky 13

by Jillian Dagg

Any amusement was killed in Luke's expression by the downward turn of the corners of his narrow mouth. He crooked one leg and rested one booted foot on the huge tire of a stationary yellow grader.

  The grader was the same grader that had nearly crushed Rick. Just the thought of what might have happened yesterday, sent Cally's stomach into a sudden drop.

  "Do you want something?” she asked, getting fed up with peering at his covered eyes. However, she couldn't find another area of his anatomy to look at. His bare chest was sleek and tan and his thighs and virile line of his jeans across his hips was not a place she wanted to rest her eyes.

  "I would like to talk to you, Carolyn."

  The excitement cultivated by the fact he'd called her by her first name for the very first time was diminished by the trepidation his words caused. “About what?” she asked cagily.

  His covered eyes raked her legs. “About your shorts. Shorts aren't appropriate among these men."

  Cally couldn't believe she'd heard him correctly. She wanted to say, “Excuse me, did you say, shorts?” but she held in the comment when she noticed the way his square jaw was set in an unfriendly stubborn thrust. Still, she had to stand up for herself. “I've seen men wearing shorts."

  "Not here and it's different,” Luke snapped.

  "How is it different?” Cally retorted.

  "It's different because you're a woman.” Luke had to raise his voice above the noise of the engines streaming past.

  "Oh, come on, that's an old-fashioned double standard."

  "Then call me old-fashioned,” Luke said. “Men respond to visual stimulation and when women wear skimpy clothes they can't help it. It's a fact of life, and you should know it."

  "My clothes aren't skimpy,” Cally burst out. “I'm not in short shorts. I'm in cutoffs. I'm not wearing a skimpy top. I'm in a shirt. I'm perfectly covered."

  Luke lowered his foot to the ground, his jeans easing like a second skin over his hard thigh muscles. He walked a few steps away from her, the thick soles of his boots crunching over loose chippings. “That's your opinion."

  Cally faced him holding her sign in her left hand while traffic still joggled past. “We both have a right to our opinions. But you don't have a right to tell me what to wear when what I'm wearing is more than most of the men with their shirts off, including you, Mr. Stanford.” She flashed him an all over look. Didn't he realize his maleness was emphasized by his own work clothes. Cally found herself breathing hard.

  Luke moved closer again. “Yes. But I run this show. Your dress is dictated by the type of work you do.

  I can't have everyone doing what they want. You saw what happened to Rick when Karl decided to play around."

  "Play around?"

  "Yes. Play around. Karl had no reason to be driving the grader over there. He was fooling with it. Just his bad luck the brakes gave way and Rick happened to be in his sights. It's lucky for Rick he was young and agile."

  "But it was still an accident,” Cally protested, “and it's got nothing to do with me and what I wear. I'm not disputing I have a dress code. I do. I wear safety boots, hat, and gloves.” She jabbed a finger at his naked chest. “I at least keep my shirt on all day."

  "Yeah, well my skin's as tough as leather and covered with sun block. I bet you didn't think about that.

  Your legs are going to look like a lobster tonight."

  "So if you don't have a taste for lobsters, and that goes for any of the other men, you don't have to look.” Cally just missed stabbing her toe with the signpost as she emphasized her point.

  For the first time during this encounter, Luke's mouth curved with what could be called amusement. “The problem is,” he said more calmly, “you don't look like a lobster. You're—a great looking woman."

  Cally recalled all that had passed between them since yesterday afternoon. Was this a case of his attraction to her being the root of his irritation with her? And what about her attraction to him? Was it some kind of mutual thing?

  She didn't know what to say to the big man who stood beside her. There was a definite tension between them.

  "Anyway, it's a passing comment, food for thought,” he said. “I look out for the welfare of my men and you're one of the men in this case. My personal preferences have no bearing on the smooth running of the construction crew. We have a job to complete, and we're going to complete it, on time, by the end of August."

  "I wasn't aware I was stopping you completing the job,” Cally said with a deep inward sigh. She wished he would go away. The conversation seemed to go around in circles. “I'll just tell you I wore shorts today to keep cool, not to turn on the men. I think you're making too much of it."

  Without a comment he left Cally standing helplessly, staring at his departing back, wondering if there was something happening between them to cause his displeasure. If not, why was he picking on her? And, if not, why should she feel so confused about her feelings for him. One minute she wanted to slap his face, the other to kiss him.

  Chapter Three

  Impatiently Cally heeded the transmitter and moved her sign so abruptly toStop that a semi-trailer had to hiss all its brakes. She didn't bother smiling politely at the huge, heavy-browed trucker when he glowered. She'd had her fill of macho men today.

  Including Karl, she decided as he sauntered into her line of vision. His red shirt was unbuttoned down his smoothly tanned chest and his straight gold hair lifted in the hot breeze. His brown eyes holding a hint of mischief, he looped his fingers in his leather belt.

  "So how's it going, Creighton?” There was a definite wicked glimmer in his velvet eyes.

  "It's fine,” Cally said shortly.

  "Uh, Oh. What did the boss have to say to you just now? He's hanging around you quite a bit, isn't he?

  He can talk all self-righteous, but he's still a man."

  "That's not the reason. He merely passed the time of day."

  "How's the weather treating you, that kind of stuff, huh?” Karl chuckled.

  "Yes, that kind of stuff.” Cally kept her eyes pinned on the swaying feathery branch of a pine tree. She certainly wasn't going to tell Karl, or anyone for that matter, about the shorts episode. Cally prided herself upon her decorum in the workplace. Luke had just chipped a chunk off that pride. She felt very weary suddenly, a bit played out emotionally, as if Luke had been a tornado, passing briefly, but ravaging enough to leave the landscape, namely her, in tatters.

  Karl kicked a loose stone with the toe of his boot. “I don't believe you. Stanford doesn't waste time chatting about the weather. Did he say anything about yesterday?"

  Yesterday was so far from her immediate thoughts that Cally frowned. “What about yesterday?"

  "Me, Rick, the accident."

  Cally remembered Luke mentioning Karl had been doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing, but she didn't want to tell tales. “No. He didn't."

  Karl's eyes turned beady. “Good. But if he ever says anything, you tell me what he says. All right?"

  "He won't tell me anything, Karl. Why should he? Anyway, it was an accident. Except for the brake job on the equipment, it's over."

  "Nothing's ever over for Stanford."

  Cally figured he was probably right judging by the way Luke kept going on about her being a woman and disturbing the men. But she wasn't going to mention that to Karl either. She felt a bit like a rubber band being stretched between Luke and Karl. “I'm sure he'll get over this."

  "Will you make sure he does?"

  "How can I do that?"

  Karl's eyes were now twinkling as if they'd never turned hard for a moment. “Keep him occupied. You know what I mean, nudge nudge.” His accent was a parody of British comedy.

  Cally was forced to smile. “I certainly won't."

  "You're old-fashioned as well. You'd make a good pair."

  "I'm not old-fashioned, Karl. Look, don't worry about it. Just do your job and have no more accidents."

  "You're right, Creighton. Why don't you come ou
t with the gang tonight? We're going to Echo Bay."

  "I'll see,” she said with no intention of going, but if she said no she was sure Karl would begin another tirade.

  "See you later then.” He sauntered away.

  Cally turned back to the traffic, wishing Rick's accident had never happened. The incident seemed to be the catalyst for all sorts of change.

  * * * *

  Cally managed to hitch a ride back to the motel with Vince Hall. It was a relief to be in the company of the silver haired plump man who told her comfortable stories about his wife, two grown daughters and grandchildren. There was no tension, no hint of sexual innuendo, no degradation of her place here on the construction crew. It was a moment for Cally to regain a feeling of reality. For a moment out on the construction site in the sizzling heat after Luke and Karl's visits, she had felt as if the world had slipped off its axis.

  She reached the unit before Loretta. She'd seen Loretta with Karl and Cally suspected Loretta was probably with him now. Cally didn't care. She knew one thing. Karl's exterior good looks had been eroded by his personality, which she didn't care for. Any crush she'd had on him was now gone.

  To Cally's horror, when she eased out of her clothes, she found Luke had been right. Her legs were bright pink. On the dresser her sunblock lotion stood unused, forgotten in the morning rush. Luke was another man she wished out of her mind. But with Luke the situation was reversed from the one with Karl. She hadn't found Luke immediately attractive, but gradually he was becoming increasingly important to her.

  Cally took a cooling shower, then rubbed cream into her sunburn. Stupid, she thought. Absolutely stupid. And she'd fallen right into Luke's stupid category. But she hadn't been thinking straight this morning, and she certainly hadn't given a thought to the depleting ozone layer.

  She dressed in very soft blue cotton pants and a T-shirt and brushed her hair. But as she prepared to leave for the restaurant for dinner, she hesitated. She didn't really feel like eating dinner with the men and Loretta tonight. She certainly wasn't up to the possibility of having Luke join them. Instead of going out, she phoned the restaurant and ordered the fish dinner special to be delivered to her room.

  She turned on the television, grateful she didn't have to display herself in public. After pinching Loretta's pillows to give herself a backrest she lounged on the bed. Loretta arrived before the meal.

  "I thought you would be at the restaurant by now,” Loretta said, grabbing some clothes from the open closet before heading for the bathroom, giving Cally no time to answer her.

  Cally closed her eyes. She just needed a little peace and quiet.

  "Are you feeling okay?” Loretta demanded when she came out of the bathroom dressed in slim white pants and a brilliant lime green top that hurt Cally's eyes but did look fantastic with Loretta's black hair.

  "I've ordered in. I'm tired,” Cally said. “Why are you all dressed up?"

  Loretta brushed her curls one last time before slipping the brush into her black leather purse. “I'm going into Echo Bay with the guys. They want to eat dinner at the restaurant there for a change. I know we'll have to pay, but what the heck. It'll be a hoot. Why don't you come?"

  Cally shook her head. She'd been invited once already by Karl and she still didn't want to go. “I'm not in the mood. Have a good time."

  "Sweet dreams then.” Loretta left the unit with a bang of the door.

  The next interruption was the delivery of her dinner. Cally set up the tray on the table. She ate the food hungrily, with one eye on the television, not actually watching the situation comedy rerun. Her brain felt disoriented. In fact, she thought, as she pushed the tray aside, she didn't feel too well at all. Suddenly she wished she hadn't eaten so much so quickly. Her stomach roiled queasily.

  Too much sun, she decided as she made her way to the bed. She lay prone and pressed her face into the cool pillow. She knew if she just stayed quiet for a moment she would feel fine. She was dozing in and out of a pleasant interlude when she was abruptly shaken by a loud banging at her door.

  "Creighton.” The voice was sharp, male, definitely Luke's. “Are you in there?"

  For a moment Cally wasn't going to answer, then changed her mind. She was on bad enough terms with Luke as it was. “Of course I'm in here,” she called back.

  "Are you okay?"

  She realized she was now feeling fine, so she told the truth. “Yes, I'm okay."

  "You didn't appear for dinner, and you didn't go to Echo Bay with the others. I thought maybe you were unwell."

  Unwell. Yes, that's the succinct way Luke would put how she might feel. Tired of shouting through the thin door she left the bed and pattered on bare feet across the carpet. She opened the door.

  "You're all flushed,” Luke said, letting himself in and closing the door firmly behind him. “You got a touch of the sun, didn't you?"

  "No more than usual,” Cally said, ignoring the painful burning of her thighs.

  "How about your legs?"

  "They're fine."

  "I doubt it. Not if the color of your face is anything to go by."

  "I put some cream on them. It's nothing to do with you."

  "It's everything to do with me when one of my employees is sick. At least it will teach you not to wear shorts again."

  The television babbled a commercial about a credit card. Cally moved away from Luke, suddenly realizing how untidy the unit was. Clothes were strewn everywhere left in Loretta's hasty wake. Cally straightened the comforter and plumped the pillows.

  "Aren't you going to respond?” he asked. “It isn't like you not to say something. We've been heckling one another for two days now."

  "I don't feel like it anymore,” she said, realizing Luke had walked further into the room and there was only a foot between them. She felt immediately breathless. “Anyway, I was trying to get some rest. Isn't that allowed in my time off?"

  He kept his eyes on hers for a moment, then moved to the door. “All right. I'll see you in the morning.

  Take care of that sunburn."

  "I will. Thanks for the concern."

  He left with a bang of the fragile door. When he was gone Cally slipped into socks and trainers and went outside into the dimming sunshine. She walked briskly along the lake path despite the sultry evening and her scorching sunburn.

  * * * *

  Her sunburn was still painful the next day, especially beneath her jeans, a newer pair because she was waiting for her older ones to be returned from the wash. Once in a while she caught Luke glance her way and knew he was thinking she might be suffering. Therefore, each time the denim chafed, she put on a brave face and didn't complain. But by the time she returned to the motel unit she was in pain. She showered and rubbed in more cream and dressed in a long denim skirt for dinner.

  Karl whistled as she took a seat with Loretta. “All dressed up Creighton. Now who do you think she's trying to impress? Not the boss of course."

  Cally found herself blushing. “Karl, would you cut it out."

  He chuckled. “No. Because I like the way you get so defensive. Anyway, the boss isn't around this evening. He took off in his fancy car.” He glanced at the other men. “Likely got a piece in Echo Bay."

  The thought of Luke meeting a woman in Echo Bay made Cally actually feel physically sick. She was so pleased Stacey came by at that moment to take the orders. She couldn't eat fast enough and felt relieved when she was able to push her plate aside and leave the restaurant. Loretta stayed with the men. On the way back to her unit, Cally wondered if she was talked about when she was absent.