Page 2 of Dear Handy Silver Fox
Lightning flashes, pulling me out of the fantasy of a life with Cammie. I’ve been watching the weather on the horizon all afternoon. I had my men working double time to ensure that we got everything done before the storm hit.
“Alright, fellas." I turn to the guys on the roof with me. “We have maybe fifteen minutes before the sky is going to open up. Let’s get everything we need covered and secured. We don’t want to be up here any longer than we have to be.”
"Got it, boss," they all say and work to get everything prepped to handle the storm.
I turn to check that Cammie is gathering her things, but she's still sitting on her sun chair staring at her laptop with a look of such concentration. You'd think that she was trying to lift the thing with her mind.
“Cam!” I call down to her.
She looks up, still nibbling on the side of her thumbnail. I point towards the ominous-looking clouds, and her gaze follows. Her eyes widen, and she slams her laptop shut and jumps up to gather her things. I try—unsuccessfully—not to check out the ample shape of her curves as she bends over.
“Boss!” Brady yells, making me jump.
I turn to look at him, wondering if he’s calling me out for doing exactly what I told the crew not to do, but he’s starting down the ladder.
“We can’t be up here!” He yells just as some lightning flashes in the distance.
I look around the roof to ensure that there isn't anything somebody missed, but my crew isn't careless with their work. I don't tolerate anyone who doesn’t take their role on my crew with the seriousness and professionalism it deserves. I cross the roof and head down.
All the equipment is put away just as the sky opens up and the rain starts pouring. I wave the crew off, letting them know that they don’t need to wait for me. I just need to get a few signatures from Cammie for another lumber order we need for next week.
I knock on the door and hear Cammie yell for me to come in.
She’s standing at the breakfast bar with her laptop open again, clicking a button over and over.
“Come on, you bastard,” she grumbles.
I can’t help but chuckle. I love it when she swears. It sounds so wrong coming from the beautiful and sweet woman. I wonder what other dirty words she isn’t afraid to yell out.
“Well, that’s not the worst thing I’ve ever been called.” I chuckle.
Cammie looks up, confused, but then her eyes widen in realization.
“I’m sorry! I wasn’t calling you a bastard.”
I pretend to wipe my brow in exaggerated relief to try and make her laugh, but she doesn’t crack a smile.
“Are you okay?” I ask as she slams her laptop shut. “Anything I can help you with?”
“Have you ever done anything so stupid that you just want to curl up into a ball and hope the world forgets all about you?" She asks her tone a mix of panic and frustration.
What is she talking about?
“Umm, no. I can’t say I have.”
She shakes her head. “Then I don’t think you can help me.”
Okay, she is clearly not in the mood for socializing today. I better just get the signatures I need and leave her alone.
"I need to have you sign a few things so that I can put in the lumber order." I hold out my clipboard with a pen to her.
She takes it and scribbles her name down on the highlighted areas. A loud clap of thunder overhead makes the house shake making Cammie jump and drops the clipboard. I kneel down, just as she does, to pick it up and see her hands shaking. Maybe her irritation in her tone wasn't irritation at all. Perhaps she's just afraid of the storm.
"Are you okay?" I ask and gently rest my hand on her shoulder.
I can feel the tension in her body ease up a bit beneath my touch.
“I don’t like storms." She takes in a deep breath. "When I was a kid, I got mad at my parents for some reason I can't remember and decided that I was going to run away. Well, like any angry eight-year-old, I didn't think to check the weather before leaving the house with my book bag filled with underwear and a half-empty jar of peanut butter.” She chuckles.
