Page 11 of My Three Hometown Hard Hats
“Oh my gosh, hi.” She walks over, giving me a hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
I hug her back. “I know. I haven’t been in town much the last few years.”
She pulls back, tugging at the messy braid she has her wavy red locks tied into. “But you are now?”
“For a while, yeah,” I say, shrugging. “I’m here to help my mom, and then we’ll see after that.”
She reaches forward, squeezing my hand. “I’m so glad you’re helping your mom. I know your brother helps, but she’s so stubborn.”
“Oh, I know,” I say, laughing. “That’s kind of why I’m here.”
She quirks a brow.
“My mom wants me to get a job, so I’m not hanging around the house all the time pestering her. Your grandma overheard us talking about it last night.”
She rolls her eyes. “And she pointed you in my direction. I swear that woman is so nosy, but I still love her.”
I laugh because she isn’t wrong.
“I actually have been looking for some help around here. Would part-time work for you?”
“That would be perfect. You aren’t going to interview me or anything?”
“Eh, no need. I’ve known you for a long time, Hads. I also know you have multiple degrees in business, so I’d be kind of dumb to turn down your help.”
“I don’t know how much an MBA is going to help me here,” I say, gesturing around the space.
“It’ll be great. Could you start tomorrow?”
“I can do that.”
“Be here at eight and we can talk about schedules and all the boring stuff.”
I wrap her in another hug, thankful I’ll get to spend more time with her.
When I see a truck with Austin’s company logo on it backed up to the garage, I park the car on the side of the road. Deciding not to avoid Austin, I walk straight into the garage.
Instead of finding him, though, I see a tall man with longer blond hair that’s pulled back into a bun.
Taking a few steps closer, I can’t help but appreciate the tattoos that cover both of his muscular arms as he organizes pieces of wood into different stacks.
He finally turns in my direction, and I freeze. My lungs can’t seem to gather any oxygen from the air around me, because that’s the man from the airplane.
But no. Not unless he grew his hair out, got a ton of tattoos, and built a bunch of muscle over the last few days.
He gives me a flirty smile that doesn’t show any signs of recognition. “You must be Hadley,” he says, taking a few steps in my direction.
I shake my head, trying to make it all make sense. “Uh… yeah, that’s me.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says, holding out his hand with a mischievous look that doesn’t match the guy I met a few days ago.
I clasp my hand around his, and his smirk widens.
“Brooks, Maggie said we can put the supplies for the railing upstairs,” a voice comes from inside the house, a moment before a man steps out into the garage.
An identical man to the one still shaking my hand.
The man from the airplane.
