He watched her struggle through subduing her amusement and realized there was a smile stretching its way across his face. Hot damn. They were flirting without it devolving into a name-calling competition, and the relief of that, knowing they could manage that feat, was enormous.
“Listen,” she said. “I do the same thing with my Louboutins.”
His smile dropped. “Jesus Christ. Now you’ve gone and compared my manly hat to a lady shoe.”
She buried her face in the crook of her elbow, her shoulders shaking with mirth. In that moment, he could picture himself tickling her, maybe taking a playful bite out of her neck. Boyfriend-girlfriend behavior.
It brought Wes up short. He definitely didn’t want permanent. Settling down and walking one straight path for the rest of his life didn’t appeal to him. He always needed to be ready to move on, so he wouldn’t be caught floundering when the moment arrived. Quick, painless, easy. That’s how he lived.
A man who grew too comfortable and left himself no escape hatches eventually ended up stranded. A couple of times growing up, he’d let himself get comfortable with a foster family, only to find out they’d never gotten comfortable with him. They’d been angling to steer clear of him the whole time.
No one had ever needed him.
No one, except for his half sister. She’d relied on him to get her out of trouble so many times it had become draining, disappointing, but he couldn’t help answering the call. A small part of him wanted to be depended on. Even by someone who didn’t appreciate it or, hell, even thank him most of the time.
Bethany certainly didn’t need him. Sure she’d had a couple of weak moments, but if he wasn’t around, she’d simply get encouragement from her local support group. He’d merely been handy. Within reaching distance.
No, he definitely didn’t have any notions of staying in Port Jefferson. Still, every time Bethany glanced over and their eyes locked, his stomach wrapped itself around his fucking spleen. Yeah, it was safe to say his preoccupation with her went far beyond the average, casual hookup. The word “hookup” wasn’t even worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as Bethany—and that became more and more true every time she made Wes privy to her thoughts.
I never get a sense of accomplishment anymore. Maybe if I push and do something harder . . . I’ll feel it again.
Wes always knew there were several leagues below Bethany’s surface, but she kept surprising him with another one. His sense of self-preservation told him to stop trying to locate her ocean floor, but this morning upon arriving at the house, he’d found himself vowing to aid her in finding that feeling. Accomplishment. He wanted to help give that satisfaction to her so goddamn bad.
Probably sensing his stare, Bethany looked up from her task of prying off a skirting board with the crowbar. “Um, hey,” she said. “How’s it going over there?”
“It’s going. How about you?”
“The mess is killing me.”
“Figured it might be.” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek to subdue a smile. “It may not look like progress, but it is.”
“Progress needs a scented candle and a dustpan.” Bethany paused, looking like she had something else to say, but a grunt turned both of their heads to find Carl wiping sweat off his forehead with a rag and passing it to Ollie.
“My sciatica is on the fritz,” Ollie complained, leaning his side against the wall. “Hurts like hell.”
“My leg is still swelled up from yesterday,” Carl said.
“All you did yesterday was wipe out the craft service table,” Wes pointed out.
Carl snorted. “I wasn’t passing up those little rolled-up cold cuts. My wife made us go vegan. Cut out my sugar and coffee, too. If you thought she was miserable before, you should see her now.”
“Why can’t they just let us be retired?” Ollie intoned, staring off into space. “It’s like they were waiting for us to finally relax to start unleashing hell.”
“Mine did run me a bath yesterday,” Carl said. “Helped my leg some.”
Ollie elbowed him, looking like a cat with a canary. “I got a massage.”
Their sighs faded into groans, both men rubbing at their respective injuries. “Damn, that hurts,” Carl moaned.
“I think I pinched a nerve,” Ollie said.
“Are you sure you guys are up for this job?” Bethany asked.
“What?” Carl called. “We’re having a great time.”
Ollie snorted. “Best two days I’ve had in years.”
She shook her head at Wes, but there was a smile playing around her mouth. One that made the pad of his thumb itch to smooth over her lower lip. Maybe he should ask her out. Nothing that would spook her. Just a last-minute-drink-between-coworkers kind of thing. Lord knew he went drinking with Stephen, Travis, and Dominic down at Grumpy Tom’s often enough. This wouldn’t be any different.
At least that’s how he’d present it.
Wes cleared his throat hard. “Listen, Bethany—”
His phone rang noisily in his pocket. With a mental curse, he slipped off his working glove and took it out. Faded Calf Tattoo was calling him. She was his babysitter for that afternoon, which meant she would pick up Laura from school, bring her home, and watch her for the two hours that remained of Wes’s workday.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hello, Wes.” Her voice wobbled with worry. “I’m so sorry to do this to you, but I can’t watch Laura today. My sister is having an emergency operation and I’m already on my way to New Jersey to be with her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s not serious.”
“Oh, she’s lived through three dirtbag husbands, so I doubt a gall bladder is going to take her down now. But she’ll need some coddling.”
Wes chuckled. Dang it, he was really starting to grow fond of these babysitters. “Let me know if I can do anything for you.”
“Will do. Sorry again.”
“Don’t be. See you soon.”
He hung up and checked the clock on his phone. Too late to call for a replacement, and even if it wasn’t, he didn’t like being a bother, especially when these women were already doing enough. Too much to be sent running to the school at the last minute on their day off. It would have to be him.
“That didn’t sound good,” Bethany said, having come closer during his conversation. “What’s wrong?”
It took him a second to collect his thoughts, thanks to the cute smudge of dirt on her nose. “I’m sorry, but I have to knock off early to pick up Laura from school. Marjorie had a family emergency.”
“Oh. Sure.” She tried to hide her panic, but didn’t quite succeed. “Sure, of course. You have to go.”
“I’ll make up for lost time tomorrow.”
Her shoulders relaxed by approximately one degree. “We will.”
“Right.”
“Were you going to ask me something?”
Yeah. Out for a friendly drink, when he really wanted to kiss her senseless. Right here and now, their audience of two be damned. She was looking at him differently today, her eyes more curious than disdainful. After that day she’d stormed the jobsite and he’d unexpectedly seen below her surface, he’d started wishing she’d change her attitude toward him. Now that she had, right on the heels of him acknowledging the temptation to try and be more to her, something inside him screamed to lighten the moment. Whether it was out of fear of the unfamiliar or simply not knowing how to be around someone he needed—how could he when he’d never experienced it before?—Wes gave her a slow once-over and spoke for her ears alone.