Building on Love

by Kat Bellemore

  “You had no right to be doing that,” Chloe interrupted. She’d had volunteers who knew their way around tools, and some who probably even knew more than she did. But she’d never had one take over her job before—pretend they were in charge. The man had been given a job to do, and Chloe now wondered if he’d even done it. Instead, he’d wasted an entire day making sure everyone else was doing their jobs.

  “I-I was checking the completed huts because I had noticed something in the one you had assigned me...”

  Chloe gave him her best boss glare, and it seemed to do the trick. Davis’s words faltered, and he trailed off in a string of incomprehensible words until he stopped speaking at all.

  “Let me be very clear right now,” she said. “I am in charge of everything that happens on this site. You are my responsibility, as are the villagers as long as we are here. If we screw up, I’m the one who has to fix it. It doesn’t matter who did it, I’m the one who is responsible.” She paused, noticing Davis’s stricken expression. He didn’t have a boss at his small-town hardware store and wasn’t used to being spoken to like this. Chloe softened her tone. “I check my volunteers’ work. I do the inspections. I make sure everything is done right. And if I already signed off on Preaw’s hut, that means it was completed. Understand?”

  Davis nodded slowly. “I do understand. And on first inspection, the huts did seem like they had been completed. Multiple layers of bamboo, a thin linen layer that had been soaked in tar. More bamboo. But if you examine the roof and walls from a certain angle, the sun catches it just right and you can tell that the rubber tree oil—”

  This time it wasn’t Chloe who interrupted Davis. It was the rain that exploded from the sky. The storm had begun.

  9

  Davis had had no idea that so much rain could fall so quickly. The trees that surrounded them seemed to do nothing for protection. Everyone scrambled toward the tent, but it was pointless. They had been soaked from the second the sky had opened. It was like God had the largest bucket in the universe and had tipped it over so all the water came out at once. Davis now understood why the huts, and their tent, had all been built on stilts. If they hadn’t been, they would have all flooded for sure.

  He ran after Chloe, taking the tent steps two at a time. As soon as they entered, they were greeted with Travis handing out towels. The heavy flaps that were meant to be the tent door didn’t move behind him. Because there was no wind. Only water.

  So. Much. Water.

  And noise. He scrambled for the headphones in his bag. He generally used industrial ones if the noise was loud enough. Davis paused as his fingers brushed them, his gaze landing on Chloe, who was wringing water from her hair.

  Davis felt like he’d disappointed her today, made her think less of him. His hand moved to a side pocket and wrapped around a little travel box he carried his foam earplugs in. They were less effective but less visible. And at the moment, he valued less visibility. Davis shoved the earplugs in. He could still hear the thunderous rain, but the sound had been dulled and it no longer felt like it was trampling across his nervous system.

  Davis used his towel to dry himself, though he wasn’t even cold. It was a warm rain and would have been pleasant if it hadn’t been pelting him and adhering his clothes to his skin.

  The wet. The noise. Thinking about the poor pregnant woman and her husband, he forgot about his discomfort, frustration surging through him. It almost bordered on anger, and he spun to face Chloe, who was gathering dry clothes from under her bunk.

  “You wouldn’t listen.” He had to nearly shout to be heard over the rain attacking the tent. “I know that you are the director. But just because you’re in charge and responsible for everything doesn’t mean you don’t make mistakes.”

  Chloe’s gaze snapped up and met his. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her tone calculated. Her words were muffled by Davis’s earplugs, but that didn’t make them any less effective.

  “I know that. That’s why I have Travis, as well as volunteers who I’ve trained as task leaders. Travis keeps an eye on things and double-checks my work. I’ve told you, I take my responsibilities here very seriously.”

  “Then why wouldn’t you listen to me? The problem with all of the huts—the one I tried telling you about—is that the last layer of rubber tree oil wasn’t applied properly. On some areas, it wasn’t applied at all. Your huts were going to leak.”

  Chloe stared back, no longer seeming as confident. “Rubber tree oil is difficult to distinguish unless you have a trained eye. I had a pair of long-term volunteers on the task. They know how important that final step is.” Her gaze bounced around the tent to everyone watching her. They didn’t even pretend to not be listening in. The boy and girl who Davis had caught making out seemed to slink into the background.

  Chloe sighed, shaking her head. “I’m not saying you’re right, but if it would make you feel better, I’ll go check on Preaw and Sunan. Just in case.”

  “No need,” Davis’s mom said, walking through the flaps and dripping water from every point possible. Did she not believe him either? “I got Preaw and Sunan out just before the storm hit, took them next door to Pii Beun’s hut. They’ll stay there for the evening. Just until we can fix whatever damage the storm may have done.” She threw Chloe what seemed to be an apologetic smile. “I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but if Davis says something is wrong, I know there is. The man doesn’t know how to just focus on the one job in front of him. If you ask him to replace a hinge, he’ll also make sure the door fits properly in the frame and has no peeling paint. And if it does, he’ll repaint it for you, free of charge. That’s just the kind of man he is.”

  It was Davis’s turn to be embarrassed. He didn’t like when people made a big deal out of something that was just common courtesy. Why would you ignore a problem only because you had been assigned a different one? But he was also grateful for his mother. For validating him and who he was. He had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be appreciated. That wasn’t something he experienced often in Starlight Ridge. It was no offense to the folks living there. They were all nice enough. He’d just never quite fit in there. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

  Suddenly, the rain stopped. Just as quickly as it had started, it disappeared.

  Davis didn’t just want his mother’s validation, though. He wanted to prove he was right. So, not bothering to change out of his wet clothes, he dropped the towel on the floor and gave his mom a hug. “Thanks,” he said, his words soft.

  And then he left the tent against the protests from within.

  The air was colder now without the rain, and his wet clothes didn’t help. As Davis stepped away from the tent stairs, he realized he hadn’t thought about the mud he’d have to wade through. Or swim through, as it were. It sucked at his shoes, and Davis wished he’d waited until the next day to check things out. The only shower available to them was an outdoor one. Which was also probably filled with mud.

  But he had to know.

  “Davis, wait up,” Chloe called from behind him. He half-turned and saw her hurrying down the steps. She’d been wise enough to throw on a sweatshirt and rainboots, though he saw she still wore her wet jeans. They clung to her legs, accenting the muscles she’d earned as part of the job.

  He tried to not let his attention dwell on her form and instead turned his focus back to the task at hand. Proving that he had only been trying to help—not taking over Chloe’s job as she had accused—and that he had been right.

  “You don’t have to be out here,” Davis called over his shoulder.

  It was silent as Davis continued making his way through the mud, but then Chloe spoke from right behind him. “I do need to be out here.” Her closeness made him jump, and he rubbed his arms with his hands, trying to pass off the motion as a sudden chill.

  “You must be cold,” she said. “Here, wear this.”

  Davis didn’t turn around, though the offer made him want to. Not because he was even tempted to take Chl
oe’s sweatshirt—he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the warmth knowing she was cold—but rather because of the tone of Chloe’s offer. It was soft and apologetic.

  “No, thank you.”

  A sigh.

  “I brought an extra for you, and if your stubbornness prevents you from taking it, you’ll be miserable and cold, and I’ll end up having to haul this thing around until we get back.”

  This time he did glance back. Chloe still wore her sweatshirt and she was holding out a thick jacket to him. It was plaid and looked like something a lumberjack would wear.

  Davis took it. “Thank you.” He slipped his arms through the sleeves and already felt better. It fit pretty close to perfectly, so it couldn’t belong to her. He turned back toward the hut and continued his trek through the mud. “Whose coat is this?”

  “Travis’s.”

  Davis nodded once. “That was nice of him.” He paused. “How long have you two been together?”

  “He was the first person I hired when I founded Building on Hope. So, about six years, I guess.”

  Well, at least that would make things easier. Davis immediately felt more relaxed around Chloe, knowing that she was already in a long-term and committed relationship. Six years was a long time. And whatever brief, and unwanted, attraction he had felt toward the director was no longer something Davis needed to fear.

  Especially because this was the same woman who wouldn’t believe him when he’d said that something was wrong. Only his mother had listened, which said a lot about Davis’s life. It had always been his family who had stuck by him—and then they’d gone. And Davis had been left to fight his battles alone.

  Davis and Chloe trudged forward, the slurp of mud the only sounds as the huts came into view. Davis glanced around, wondering if any animals were watching them—waiting.

  He gave a quick shake of his head, trying to lose the thought. That kind of thinking wasn’t going to help anyone right now.

  Davis approached the hut steps and slowed. He half-hoped he’d been wrong. That there wouldn’t be any damage. But the other, more selfish part, hoped to be right. To prove that he knew what he was talking about. That he could be trusted.

  “You go first,” he said.

  Chloe stepped up beside him. “You sure?”

  No. He wasn’t. But he said yes anyway.

  “You’re the director. You should be the first to survey any damage.”

  Chloe gave him a long look, like she still didn’t quite believe there would be anything for her to survey. Like this was all in Davis’s mind—like he was imagining a problem where there wasn’t one.

  But judging from the slight gasp she gave upon entering, Davis knew he had been right. Now that it had been confirmed, he wished he hadn’t been. It had been wrong to hope otherwise. He followed Chloe into the hut and found himself standing in an inch of water. It was nothing compared to what had fallen outside. The roof had kept out most of it. But not enough.

  There shouldn’t have been any water at all.

  Chloe was silent for a moment as she took in the damage, and Davis wasn’t about to interrupt. “I don’t understand,” she finally said. “We’ve never had this problem before. We have a net made of bamboo, followed by interlocking split bamboo stems, then the second layer of structural bamboo. Add another two layers of split bamboo, and the thick sheets of linen between them, and nothing should have gotten through. This is how we always do it…”

  Chloe trailed off as she examined the walls and roof, looking for any steps they may have missed. But the bamboo was so wet, it was going to be hard to see what the problem had been. She finally turned. “How did you know?” Her gaze was piercing, though it also held doubt and confusion.

  “I already told you, it was the rubber tree oil,” Davis said, fingering one of the walls. This one hadn’t leaked, and he could feel the smooth texture that the oil produced. “While I was working yesterday, the sun hit the hut just right so I could see haphazard streaks. So then I examined the roof and was surprised to find that it hadn’t been done at all. That pattern held for nearly a dozen of the huts.” He paused, then lifted one shoulder. “I went back through and redid them but ran out of time before getting to this last one. I knew there might be some leaking without the oil helping the rain run off, but I hadn’t realized to what extent.”

  Chloe stared. “You’ve only been here, what, a few days, and you’ve suddenly become an expert at building bamboo huts?” She didn’t seem angry, more curious, but her words still sliced through Davis. “How did you spot something that my people didn’t?” She paused. “Something that I didn’t. Because I do take responsibility for this.”

  Davis had always been the odd one, the one that no one understood. That was partly his fault. People tended to not want to spend a lot of time with someone who kept to himself, knew too much about things that no one else did, and knew nothing about the things they thought he should. Before coming to Thailand, Davis had asked his mom what type of work they did with the organization.

  And then he had studied up about all of the different methods of building a bamboo hut, just so he would be prepared. He wasn’t one to do shoddy work, and he wasn’t about to start now, even if he would only be there for a couple of weeks.

  But once again, it had branded him as an outsider, even as he was trying to fit in.

  “I’m good at what I do,” he finally said, turning away from her gaze. He didn’t like what it did to him. How it made him feel. Like the first time he had met Bridgette. Insecure. Wishing he wasn’t himself so someone like her would be interested in someone like him.

  “I knew their work was suffering,” Chloe muttered to herself. “That’s why I assigned them as partners. Then they wouldn’t have to sneak off to be together, and they could still get the work done.” She released a long sigh. “I’ve been doing this long enough, I should have known.”

  Davis threw a glance back in Chloe’s direction, and her gaze met his.

  “I had newbies on the rubber tree oil job because it’s the easiest for them to start out on,” she said. “But a couple of my long-time volunteers—my inspectors—they’ve stopped caring. And I knew it. But I didn’t reassign them. Thought they could still at least check for mistakes. I was obviously wrong.” Her head dropped. “This is on me. I’ll get things cleaned up tomorrow.”

  She looked so sad—like her world had ended. It broke Davis’s heart.

  “Whether or not you should have reassigned them, the fact is that your volunteers knew better,” Davis said, his tone more forceful than he had intended. “And you shouldn’t clean up their mistake. Make them do it.”

  Chloe’s head snapped up, and he wondered if he’d done it again—overstepped his bounds. She’d probably be upset and tell him that he shouldn’t tell her how to do her job. But she didn’t.

  Instead, she tilted her head to the side, as if she were seeing Davis for the first time. “You’re right. I’ve always been too easygoing, wanting to be friends with everyone, wanting everyone to like me. But this was their fault. And I have other things I need to be doing.” Her lips tilted up into a smile. “Thanks Davis.”

  That slight smile—those two words.

  There was no storm. No mud. Nothing.

  Except her.

  10

  Chloe walked over to Preaw and Sunan’s hut and couldn’t help but smile. She had placed Dean and Katie on separate duties so they wouldn’t ever be in the hut at the same time. Katie was currently sweeping water out while Dean was on the roof, applying the rubber tree oil. They were so upset, they wouldn’t even look at Chloe, but she’d merely reminded them that they were lucky that Davis had already done the other ten huts, or they would be doing all of those too.

  The rest of the volunteers had been surprised at how stern Chloe had been with Dean and Katie, not allowing them to defend their inaction until Chloe had finished what she had to say. But they’d also looked at her with a respect that hadn’t been there before. Sure, everyone liked
her. But that had been the problem. People didn’t listen to their friend like they listened to their boss. And Chloe had been trying to be both.

  She still wanted that.

  It was difficult working with the same people you ate with, slept with, and hung out with. The twenty volunteers never left each other’s sides. And even after all these years, Chloe had never been able to find the right balance.

  But this—this felt good.

  Will and Randy ran up at that moment, breathing hard and grinning.

  “We’re done,” Will said, while covering Randy’s mouth as he was also trying to tell her the good news.

  “No fair,” Randy said, once he’d managed to step out of his brother’s reach. “You said whoever got here first could tell her, and I totally won.”

  “Not by my estimation,” Will said, obviously trying to sound older than he was. In fact, he sounded a lot like Davis.

  Davis.

  Chloe was unsure what to make of the elder Jones brother, a man who seemed full of contradiction.

  He was self-assured, but not cocky. In fact, he almost seemed embarrassed that he was as knowledgeable as he was.

  Davis kept to himself, but not around his family.

  He was quiet, except when he was passionate about something—like last night. When he’d felt that Chloe shouldn’t take responsibility for the mistake that had been made but instead place that responsibility on her volunteers. Volunteers that should have known better.

  And Chloe couldn’t deny that Davis was attractive, but he almost seemed to try to self-sabotage by wearing clothing that was ill-suited to him, and never combing his hair. Like he was trying to be something other than what he was.

  Chloe’s attention turned back to the two boys who were still fighting for the right to be the bearer of good news. She’d known Will and Randy for a year now, and she loved these boys like she would her own brothers. If she had any. Maybe that was why she enjoyed their company so much. They were the siblings she’d never had.