Page 25 of Wrecked

Yep, there’s Pam Paige waving back at Adam.

Adam is standing with my door open, waiting for me to get in. I crawl in, making sure he gets a nice view of my backside. Once seated, I buckle my seat belt and adjust it, so it’s just below my boobs, pushing them up a bit. With a flutter of my lashes, I wait for him to close the door, like he’s my chauffeur.

He walks around the car and slides into his seat. My door is still open, so I lean over and close it with a huff.

Leaning back in my seat, I cross my arms and look at him. He’s wearing his work jeans again, worn and with light splotches of paint on them. The work boots are back, and he has on a plain white T-shirt. He slides on his sunglasses and uses his blinker before pulling away from the curb. How a man who looks so delicious can act like such a square is beyond me.

I close my eyes and daydream in the silence of the long drive to nowhere land.

When we get to the house, I look for Toby and ask him where I’m needed. He gives a questioning eye to Adam, who just nods his chin.

“Hi, Leah. You can work with Tim and Gary. They could use an extra hand today.” Toby motions over to the two cute boys who lent me the tape measure last time.

With a smile on my face, I start to walk toward them. I’m a few strides away when a callous hand grabs my arm and pulls me back.

“She’s with me today. This is community service, not party time.” Adam’s deep gruff sounds from behind my head.

Toby has a confused look on his face but just shrugs. Looking at his clipboard, he says, “Okay, you are on sanding duty this morning. Start in the master and work your way down. There are masks in the trailer.”

I walk inside and leave Adam to watch my blue-clad booty walk away and up the stairs. I grab a block and start sanding down the walls when I see a white conelike mask being shoved in my face. I turn to face Adam’s very serious expression.

“I’m not wearing that.” I refuse the offending item.

He shoves it back in my face. “You’re wearing it.”

I push his arm away. “Ew. Get that ugly thing away from me.”

Taking the space in between me and the wall, Adam is now standing with his ribs against mine, glaring down at me with eyes focused and determined.

“The dust can clog your lungs, which can lead to respiratory issues and lung cancer.”

I place a hand on my side and tilt my head. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

His chest restricts and pushes into mine just a little more. He lowers his chin and levels his eyes down to mine, and with a growl, he says, “I don’t want you getting sick.”

I take in a quick breath. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight. “Fine. I’ll wear the stupid thing.”

With a shaky hand, I grab the mask from him, but he swipes it back.

Pulling the elastic on the back, Adam slowly places the mask over my head. His fingers graze over my cheek as he lowers it down over my nose and mouth. He pulls my ponytail out of the elastic and lets it fall back down. A stray hair must have escaped because he is tucking it behind my ear.

When the mask is in place, I back away. “What about you?”

“I don’t need one.”

I stomp my foot. “Why do I have to wear this ugly thing?”

“Because I don’t care about myself.” Adam turns around, grabs a sanding block, and gets back to work.

“Maybe I do,” I add as I throw the cone at him.

His back is stiff, the ridges amplified through his shirt, as he takes a deep breath in and holds it. He grabs the cone off the ground and slides it over his face.

We spend the morning working in silence. He stays on the other side of the room. I keep to my side. He doesn’t make a comment about what I’m doing or how I’m doing it. He doesn’t try to correct me, and he doesn’t try to redo what I’ve already accomplished.

Every once in a while, I turn my head and catch a glimpse of him. As his arms work in a circular motion, the triceps tighten under the smooth sun-kissed skin.

As it gets closer to noon, the heat is sweltering. Since we’re sanding, they didn’t give us a fan because it would just blow the dust all over.