I showered, put on my pajamas, and set my alarm for seven. My phone vibrated with a text message. It was Sebastian.
I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I want to know if you got home safely. Please text me.
My heart tightened painfully at his concern. I couldn’t deny that he cared about me, at least on some level. I didn’t have the heart to let him worry.
I’m home safe. Thanks for checking up on me. Goodnight.
I set the phone back on the nightstand. Now that I’d had time to cool off, my mind started circling back to the evening’s events. Had I overreacted? I vividly remembered the ache in my chest and my rising blood pressure when Janine had told me the truth in her condescending tone, that Sebastian had arranged for me to get the art exhibit. That memory made me furious all over again.
Hell no, I wasn’t overreacting. No matter his intentions, Sebastian had made a fool out of me. He’d proven that he didn’t believe I could get great exposure on my own. Maybe he liked my art, but if he’d thought I was good enough to make it on my own, he would never have intervened.
* * *
After a restless night, I woke up groggy, my jaw aching from clenching it all night. I took a cold shower, doing my best to push thoughts of Sebastian away. I was usually good at blocking someone from my mind.
I stopped for donuts and a milkshake, then navigated Manhattan’s chaotic streets in my trusty old truck. As I reached the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge, my mood began to improve. The breathtaking view of the city skyline never got old. Despite its downsides, I loved New York’s energy and its ability to fill me with optimism.
At Ben’s house, I changed into work clothes and surveyed the empty rooms. A hint of panic tightened my throat. Was this project too ambitious to take on by myself? But Ben had said he wasn’t in a rush, so I had no deadline. I could take my sweet time.
I put on my protective gear, shoved wireless headphones into my ears, and got to work sanding the walls. There was something soothing about the mindless task of polishing the blank surface in front of me. My dad and I had painted lots of houses to make extra money. I missed the days when we’d worked side by side, the silence filled only with the sounds of tools. The professional sander I was using now was pretty noisy, something between a vacuum cleaner and a flex tool. Most people used earplugs when working with it, but I didn’t mind the noise. I was in my element.
By lunchtime, my arms felt ready to fall off and the heat was getting to me. I was climbing down from my ladder when a man cleared his throat behind me.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, barely managing to keep my balance. Ben rushed to catch me, grasping my hips firmly as he helped me down.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was waiting for you to turn off that thing.” He gestured at the sander.
I removed my earphones and goggles, running my fingers through my dusty hair. “I wouldn’t have heard you anyway.”
“Why didn’t you turn on the AC? It’s hot enough to melt ice in here.”
“I didn’t want to mess with it without your permission.” I used my shirt hem to wipe sweat off my brow. “Since you’re here, will you please, please turn it on?”
He chuckled and headed to the kitchen. “Come on, the remote is here somewhere. Don’t ever work in this heat again.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
I followed him through the archway. He found the remote in a drawer, pressed a button, and heavenly cool air began flowing from the AC unit.
“Oh, God.” I stood directly in front of it, letting the refreshing breeze run through my hair and ruffle my clothes.
While I was a sweaty, raggedy mess, Ben looked like a Ken doll fresh out of the box. His summer khakis were unwrinkled, his airy white shirt complementing his athletic body.
Ben grinned at me. “You can make it as cold as you want. Or as hot as you want it.”
I returned his smile, still under the spell of the AC, until I realized my T-shirt was plastered to my braless breasts. If I were a man, I’d be shirtless right now, and no one would think twice about it. As a woman, I had limitations. Knowing that I was working alone, I hadn’t put on a sports bra. It was bad enough Ihad to do some backbreaking work at sweltering temperatures. I didn’t need any tight garment to add to my discomfort.
I noticed Ben’s gaze on my taut nipples. While his expression remained friendly and polite, I detected a spark of something else in his eyes. As inconspicuously as I could, I turned away from the breeze and crossed my arms over my chest.
I cleared my throat. “I started by prepping the walls,” I explained, then outlined my plan.
He nodded, not looking particularly interested. “I’m sure you’ll do a fantastic job. Have you eaten?”
“I had a couple of donuts this morning.”
He wrinkled his nose. “That’s not proper food for a working woman. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of bringing lunch.”
I was touched by his consideration. “Ben, you didn’t have to bother—”
