Page 43 of The Trouble with Wanting

When he looks at me, I see that little bit of charm pop out that men usually put on when they talk to me.

I’m not an idiot. I know I’m nice-looking. That’s why my mom and I have had the sex conversation so many times. We both know there are plenty of guys who want what I’m putting out into the world.

“I’m Andy,” he says, taking off a glove and sticking his hand out for me to shake. “I know we haven’t met before—I would have remembered a face like yours.”

I blush and choke back a laugh, unable to help my reaction to his flirtation. “I’m Ruby.”

“And what brings you by today?”

I lift a shoulder, realizing I don’t really know what to say. Am I here to hang out with Boyd? Am I here to help just because? How do I explain who I am? Am I Ken’s daughter? Boyd’s friend? Are we just friends?

Ultimately, I settle on a vague version of the truth.

“Just vacationing in town and thought I’d tag along with Boyd, here, to help. If you need me, that is.”

“Oh, without a doubt, Ruby. We can—”

“Is Bishop here?” Boyd’s voice cuts into whatever else Andy was going to say, his tone gruff enough that I turn to look at his face.

He’s looking at Andy like…well, like Andy punched him in the face or something. Where did this irritation come from? Aren’t they friends? Yes, he said that during the car ride over, said he and Andy were really good friends from way back in kindergarten when some “little shit” made fun of his ears.

I don’t see anything wrong with his ears, though he probably grew into them as he got older.

“Yeah, he’s over helping Greg with the unload.”

Boyd nods his head and stalks off in search of his brother, leaving me wondering if I’m supposed to follow in his wake or stay here with Andy.

My eyes follow Boyd until it’s clear he doesn’t plan to give me any instructions, then I turn back to look at Andy. I’m a little surprised to find a smile on his face.

“Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

Andy shrugs a shoulder then waves for me to follow him. “Boyd getting jealous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.”

I almost laugh, replaying the interaction in my mind, wondering what he could have been jealous of. I’m here with Boyd, right?

“Jealous of what?”

Andy shrugs again, looking back at me. “Me, most likely. We’re friends, but we also have a bit of history when it comes to women—though that’s the first time I’ve seen a look quite like that,” he says with a chuckle.

I look in the direction Boyd went one more time, wishing I could reassure him, but I don’t know what I’d reassure him of. That I’m here with him? That I’m not interested in this Andy guy? That he doesn’t need to get grouchy just because someone flirts with me?

All those things feel much bigger than the casual kind of thing we seem to have going on, so I decide to let the thoughts drift away, knowing I can always revisit them later. Instead, I refocus my mind on the task in front of me.

I assumed I’d be relegated to some menial bullshit task like handing nails to someone with a hammer or passing out waters, but Andy blows my mind when he has me working alongside the small group of men as they lift up the first walls to do what they’re calling rough framing.

As the day progresses, I spend my time holding walls in place with Bishop and another guy named Greg, helping to hoist up heavy beams and lugging newly cut wood from the saw to the concrete slab where the exterior walls are being constructed.

I’ve never done such intense manual labor before, most of my sweat equity coming from yoga, gardening, or cleaning, but it feels amazing.

I’m thankful that Bellamy let me borrow a pair of boots and that Boyd stopped by my house so I could change first; otherwise I would have been way out of my depth in comfy sneakers and yoga pants.

When we take a break for lunch, I realize I’ve hardly talked to Boyd at all, most of my attention lasered in on not being the one girl on site who screws something up.

“Ham and cheese,” he says, passing a sub sandwich my way once we finish for the day around lunch time.

“Thanks!” I say, beaming at him.

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