Page 17 of Wrecked

The more attractive one reaches into his tool belt. “You can have mine. Just don’t forget to stop back by and say good-bye before you go.”

He gives me a wink, which I return, and then I walk back to my work area.

Alone, I start measuring the wall and then the drywall, marking where I need to make an incision for the outlet. Using the utility knife, I make a clean rectangle and blow off the dust from the perfect cut.

“What are you doing?” Adam’s voice bellows through the open room.

I look up at him and give him a what-the-hell-do-you-think-I’m-doing expression.

“You couldn’t wait ten minutes?” He’s shaking his head and looking down at me like I’m a little kid who needs to be reprimanded. “These supplies are donated. You can’t waste them because you have zero patience.” He moves me out of the way. Then, he picks up the board that’s four feet high by eight feet wide and throws it on the other side of the room as if it were a piece of paper.

“What did you do that for?” I ask, hands on my hips, my foot tapping in annoyance. “You should at least see what I did before you deem me a complete fuckup.”

He lets out a deep growl and then stalks over to the other side of the room. He picks up the drywall, which is thankfully still intact. He brings it up to the wall, and just as I knew it would, it fits perfectly. Adam blinks a few times, his brows pointed down. It’s as if he can’t believe a little tart like me can actually do something useful.

Instead of saying sorry or something positive, he holds up the board and says, “All right, get screwing.”

My mouth is open, slack-jawed, from how rude he is. Instead of getting on my knees and screwing the board like he wants me to, I take my tape measure and utility knife, turn on my heels, and walk toward the door.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To find someone else to work with.”

“I want to get something straight. I put my ass on the line for you. Harper will happily process you, and I will gladly look the other way.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m doing the work. Didn’t know I had to do it glued to your Neanderthal self!”

“I don’t think you understand how this works. You’re the criminal. I’m the officer.”

His words make me halt, and then I turn around so swiftly that my hair flings me in the cheek.

“No, Adam. You’re the asshole. I’m the idiot.”

I walk out of the room in search of a more appreciative partner.

I spend my morning working with a crew of volunteers who seem more than happy to have my services. We spackle and tape the living room of the third house, and no one talks while we work. The hours slowly pass by, but the job gets done.

I’m standing on a ladder, spreading compound on the wall, when I see the orange hue of Adam’s shirt through my peripheral vision.

“Some worker you have here, Adam. This one knows how to get her hands dirty,” Toby says.

I don’t turn to see Adam’s expression. I just keep working.

“I’m surprised she’s still here. Thought she left.” His baritone makes my pulse pick up.

“Left? She’s been here, busting her ass, all morning. Wouldn’t have gotten this complete without her.” Toby pats Adam on the back and starts to walk out of the room. “Come on, time for lunch. You coming, Leah?”

My stomach is grumbling, but the idea of sitting down in the same area with Adam is rather unappealing. “No. I’m good. You guys go. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“All right. Come on, man, let’s take a break.”

Toby walks out of the room, but that vision of orange is still hovering in my peripheral. He’s just standing there. I can’t bring myself to look back at him.

After what feels like an eternity, Adam finally leaves, and my shoulders relax. I clean off my tools, put them away, and then wash my hands. I walk out the back door.

There is a large tree in the field, a perfect spot to get shade from the afternoon sun. I sit down on the grass next to a patch of marigolds, rest my back on the trunk, and close my eyes, remembering a time when Adam and I were close.

“You’re gonna miss that shot.” He walked past the locker room doors that led to the indoor basketball court at our high school, wearing a pair of track pants and a sleeveless tank. His toned arms were on full display as he carried a duffel bag in one hand with a backpack slung over the other arm.