“No sweat.”
He had taken a few minutes out of his hectic schedule to let her know he cared what happened to the house and to her. Meanwhile, her fiancé couldn’t even call to say hello. Emily couldn’t disregard the fact Michael and Trent inspired very different feelings in her. Trent left her out in the cold and caused her to worry and wonder. Michael made her feel safe, even after a short acquaintance. Trent made hurtful remarks, even if he didn’t mean to. Michael leapt to her defense and told her she deserved better than a man who pointed out her flaws. The discrepancies between the two men, now glaring, made her want to imagine things were different. She couldn’t help wishing the spark in Michael’s eyes was more than friendliness and professionalism. It certainly seemed that way when she caught him looking at her.
“I hope you feel better about the demolition,” he said, interrupting her reverie.
“I do. You’re a good guy, you know that?”
“Just doing my job.”
He hadn’t just been doing his job when he rescued those children in that daycare a year ago. Although Emily had read all the reports in the papers, she remained intrigued, especially now that she’d met the man. She didn’t have the heart to ask him about the incident. After all, a woman had been killed. It was bound to be a difficult topic for him. Michael could have been shot as well, but he’d overpowered the assailant before he could do any more damage. Anyone involved would no doubt still feel the effects of the tragedy. Did Michael? Was it why he had trouble sleeping? Emily wished she could inquire, but didn’t want to overstep.
She supposed all she really needed to know was a good man had been there at the right time and had done what he’d needed to do.
The more she considered it, the more she came to the conclusion Michael was probably much more than a good man. He might actually be better than most.
Her feelings for him, her curiosity, had started to scare her. All last night, while Trent kept her in the dark, Emily had been tortured by thoughts of Michael as well. The worst part was seeing a matching curiosity in his eyes and not being able to do anything about it.
She’d tried several times to convince herself the heat in Michael’s eyes was mere friendliness. However, not every friend looked at her the way he did. There was something more in his gaze than mere consideration for another human being. She spied genuine interest. God only knew she felt it in return.
That heat scared her. She barely knew this man and she felt consumed, blistered, by attraction. All day yesterday, it had taken all her fortitude not to stare dreamily at him, and all while her fiancé stood in the next room, sulking by the craft service table.
By the time everyone was ready to start the wall demolition, Trent still hadn’t arrived. Emily had texted him several times to no avail.
“I can’t wait any longer,” Lacey finally declared. “Guys, take the wall down.”
Mortified because the demolition was just one more thing she had to do alone, Emily inched closer to Michael.
“It’s okay.” He put a hand on her lower back. “I’ll help you through it.”
“Thanks.”
He handed her a pair of safety goggles and helped her adjust them over her head, doing the same with his own pair. “Your bangs are caught in the strap. Let me fix it.”
His fingers loosened the strap so he could free the strands of hair. Although he had large hands, roughened by hard work, they felt soft against her skin. Gentle and kind, like him. Michael gazed into her eyes as he fixed her hair around her forehead and her breaths became shallow as she met his gaze.
“There.” He grinned. “You look like Mr. Magoo when he puts his glasses on.”
“Perfect. That’s just the look I was going for today.”
“Don’t worry. Mr. Magoo was never as hot as you are.”
She laughed out loud, but mostly because her gelatinous legs wouldn’t allow her to concentrate on being called “hot” by one of Canada’s hottest men.
For the cameras, everyone would take a swing with the sledgehammers. Because Emily owned the house, Michael had invited her to take the first shot, handing her a daintier implement, one that wouldn’t wrench her arm out of its socket. As Emily contemplated the wall, Michael positioned himself behind her.
He put his hands on her shoulders, helping her square them, and then lightly rested them on her waist. “That’s it. Feet apart. Back straight. Now give it a good whack, Em.”
As Michael stepped back, Emily’s body betrayed her. She hoped her boobs wouldn’t end up in the shot because she was sure her nipples were poking through her shirt. Hearing him voice her nickname gave her an intimate thrill, but his touch had proven even more explosive.
She wanted him to touch her again and hated herself for wanting it.
Annoyed at her warring emotions, she swung and landed a resoundingcrackon the wall. The drywall crumbled and the crew let up a whoop. Elated, she took another swing. This time, a piece of the frame came loose.
“Yes!” When Emily shouted in joy, everyone laughed. She looked around, embarrassed but thrilled. “Maybe I should stop while I’m ahead. This is a little too much fun.”
In truth, she’d hurt her shoulder on the last swing. When she rotated it, it popped as new muscles were strained. Emily put the sledgehammer down but she couldn’t stop smiling.
Michael was right. Demolitions could be therapeutic, although perhaps it was a bad idea to envision Trent as she drove a heavy implement into the wall.
