Page 25 of Blue Collar Hotties

A thousand harsh words line up on my tongue, but I bite them back and sink back into my desk chair. Gabe Dempsey doesn’t need me to fight his battles—and definitely not against a complete dweeb like Uncle Roderick. It’s not even worth his time. He’s smarter, stronger, and more capable than my uncle will ever be, andweboth know it. That’s what counts.

The builder turns back right before the office door closes, taunting me with a sexy grin.

I spend the next twenty minutes floating somewhere up near the ceiling.

Gabe

The game is back on, but it’s not like before. Lenore’s cagey. She doubts me, and it’s plain to see, because she’ll get lost in the moment looking at me—then drag her eyes away and get back to her work. Never did that before.

That perfect girl thinks that I’m gonna turn cold on her again, refusing to look in her direction, and it keeps her from sinking all the way into our connection like she did last time.

Fuck, I hate that I let Jimmy’s warning get in my head. Hate that I ruined this. Why didn’t I trust that this is something special?

But I have to believe we can fix this if I’m gonna stay sane; have to think we’ll get past this bump in the road. Lenore is cautious now. That’s fine. That’s smart.

All it means is that I need to work harder to get her comfortable with me again.

“Thank Christ for the weekend,” Jimmy grumbles beside me, scraping moss out of a stone rose’s petals. “This week has sucked the life outta me. Did you know Brenda’s on nights again? We’ve barely seen each other. Honestly, I’m forgetting what she looks like.”

As if. Jimmy’s more devoted to his wife than any man I’ve ever known, and there’s no way he’d forget Brenda. He keeps a picture of her folded in his top shirt pocket, the photo paper all droopy from where he’s handled it so much.

Makes sense that he’s agitating for Friday to be over already, if it means more time with his wife. Hell, all of our crew are chomping at the bit, ready to burst off site at the end of their shift and head straight to the bars, the greyhound tracks, the homes of their favorite girls and guys. Whatever their chosen ways to blow off steam, there’s only a few hours left of the workweek standing in their way.

Me? I wish I could slow the clocks, even though it makes me selfish. Not sure I can stomach two whole days without Lenore.

It was different before, when I hadn’t seen her up close. Sure, I missed her, my insides all buzzy with agitation until I laid eyes on her again—but it was more abstract. Like going crazy waiting for an episode of my favorite TV show.

Thisis torture. Now that I’ve seen her up close, touched her warm skin, heard her voice, breathed in her scent… I barely slept a wink last night. Just kept tossing and turning all night long, before giving up and jerking my cock raw to the memory of her. Over and over again, until my back was slick with sweat and my abs ached worse than the devil. My hand practically cramped into that telltale claw shape.

Yeah. I’m a mess.

But what does my girl do on the weekends? Where does she go when she’s not here? She doesn’t have a man—that much I’m sure of, because Lenore’s not the type to let her eyes stray. That certainty is deep in my bones. But does she have friends? Hobbies? Hopes and dreams?

Can’t believe I know so little about her.

Need to spend more time with my angel; need to get to know her properly. But it’s easier said than done when I’m out here and she’s in there, and there’s more than some crumbly stonework and double glazed windows standing between us.

I can’t exactly march through her uncle’s business and ask for her number with him on the other side of that door. Not when that prick already gives her such a hard time.

“Boss,” Jimmy says, like he’s been trying to get my attention for a while.

I shake myself. “Yeah?”

“That girl in there. Lenore.” My neck turns hot, but I keep my eyes fixed on the tools in my hands as he talks. “Something’s changed. She’s been looking at you again.”

I grunt and raise one shoulder in a shrug—because yeah, things have changed. Yesterday, I met my girl in person, and today I’m brand new.

“People look at people,” I say. “It happens.”

“Not like this.” Jimmy coughs, all blustery and strained, and shakes his head. Wish he’d quit those cigarettes, but if Brenda’s nagging falls on deaf ears, mine definitely won’t help. “I warned you, okay, boss? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

A muscle tics in my jaw. “Yeah, I heard. Now drop it.”

And there’s no need to bite my second’s head off, no need for the way my muscles tense on my bones, because Jimmy’s just trying to look out for me. That’s all.

He’s got a son only a few years younger than me, and last year that son got turned inside out over some rich girl who dropped him like a hot potato. Broke the poor guy’s heart, and had him slumped over Jimmy and Brenda’s kitchen table for months, nursing the bottle. Took him forever to climb back out of that glass. I remember that drama.

Doesn’t mean I’m doomed to the same fate.

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