Page 53 of Love In Translation

“Keep the pole right there and do not let it move, at all,” he ordered.

Wow, she rather liked this bossy side of him. But she preferred him to order her about in the bedroom.Oooh, sex.Sex would be fun.Mmm.Interesting that she was too hungover to live, but she still wanted sex. Maybe there was life beyond death...

“We can ditch this and go to bed,” she told Fletch as he shoveled concrete into the hole around the base of the pole.

“After which you’ll crash for the rest of the day.” Fletch shook his head. “Nope, I want to get this done.”

He’d refused sex to finish building a gazebo. What did that mean? She stared at his tanned neck and wondered if the bloom was off the rose, whether his excitement was fading. They’d been sleeping together for a month now and maybe boredom was setting in, his feet were getting itchy. God, she hoped not. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. Would she ever be?

“Carrie asked me what I thought about you,” Fletch stated.

Oh... She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before speaking. “And what did you tell her?” she asked, cursing when her tone wasn’t nearly as casual as she wanted it to be.

“That you are a complete pain in my ass... You’re not holding the pole straight, Rheo!” Fletch huffed, did his spirit-level thing again, and told her to hold it to the pole and to make sure the bubble didn’t move. God, thepressure.

“Did you really tell her that?” Rheo demanded, increasing her grip on the pole and holding the spirit level to the wood, keeping her eye on the now straight bubble. “And more importantly, did you mean it?”

Fletch filled the hole with concrete, stood, and took the spirit level from her hands. “You can let go, Rheo, it’ll stand on its own now.”

She dropped her hands, expecting the pole to topple, but it stayed upright. Fletch walked to where she stood, took off his cap, and tugged it onto her head. “Your face is burning,” he told her, dropping a kiss to the side of her mouth. “I also told her you are fun and lovely and asked why she hadn’t introduced you to me sooner.”

No way.Rheo stared at his broad back as he picked up a pole and moved it to another hole. He stood it upright, and Rheo handed him the spirit level without asking. His words soothed her battered spirit, and energy coursed through her veins, as she mentally danced. Mental dancing was all she was capable of.

Rheo helped Fletch as he moved from hole to hole, inserting the poles and tossing in concrete. His design was a lot more complicated, and lovelier, than hers, and would look stunning with a creeper covering it. She was grateful for his help and told him so.

“It’s easy enough to build and I did knock yours down,” he told her, smiling. “Admittedly, not hard to do.”

She pulled a face at him before yawning.

“How was your evening?” Rheo asked. “What time did you get home?”

“At a very respectable ten thirty,” Fletch replied. “Mick, Sam, and I played pool at Diego’s.”

He transferred concrete into the last hole before standing and resting his forearm on the handle of the spade. “Hey, have you heard about the Gilmartin Mud Race?”

She wrinkled her nose and frowned. “Should I have?”

“Probably not, since anything involving exercise is not your jam.”

“I did enjoy our hike the other morning.”

Fletch’s smile was low, sweet, and slow. “Walk, not hike, but I’m glad. Anyway, the mud race is coming up soon and it’s exactly as described—a muddy race but with obstacles. Mick and Sam want me to join their team and run it with them.”

Rheo wondered at his lack of enthusiasm. Fletch loved running and a little mud wouldn’t put him off. “You sound hesitant.”

He pushed his hand through his sweaty hair. “I want to do it, but I don’t think my doctor will approve of me doing a twelve-mile somewhat challenging obstacle run. I’m supposed to be taking a break from physical activity.”

“You often run. You’ve rock-climbed and done a couple of long hikes,” Rheo pointed out.

He shrugged off her words. “Yeah, but those weren’t physically taxing at all.”

So annoying.

“I refused to join the brothers on a forty-mile trail, but if I take part in this race, it’ll get back to Seb and he will not be pleased. He’s not only my doctor but my friend, and I don’t like going behind his back.” He pushed his hair off his face with his forearm. “The guys want to use the event and me joining their team as a way to promote their business.”

“Don’t you normally charge people to do that?”

He lifted his shoulder. “I like them. They work hard and are passionate about what they do. And, frankly, they couldn’t afford to pay my fees. I don’t mind helping them out. I just have to get the go-ahead from Seb first.”

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