Page 27 of Almost True
“He came to apologize. Grabbed my arm and asked if I was okay. It felt…”
My eyes shut at the memory of his touch on my arm. I’d gone inside and held my forearm in front of me and just stared at the smudge of dirt he’d left on the soft skin of my inner wrist. Shouldn’t it have bothered me he’d touched me? Shouldn’t it have sent me running to the sink and scrubbing furiously to remove the evidence of someone so clearly uninterested in me?
But I hadn’t. I’d walked around another twenty minutes before reluctantly wiping away the thumb print like it was the only proof I had of him. After that, I’d turned on my smile to go socialize in Salt Lake with a small group of donors to a foundation I championed and prayed they didn’t all get hung up on the whole stalker issue. Since it was the only work I’d committed to doing during this “sabbatical,” I hadn’t been able to cancel and just stay home with those messy thoughts.
“How did it feel?”
I exhaled loudly, exhausted by the fact that I couldn’t get this man out of my head. “It felt like he cared. And I spent the next forty-eight hours reprimanding myself for even thinking that. I’m still annoyed, but I’ve decided it’s all because I haven’t dated anyone decent in years, and he’s the closest thing to decent I’ve encountered. It’s not that he’s special. It’s just that I have a super low bar and I’m starved for affection.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m certain that’s it, and it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been cultivating a hardcore crush on the man for well over a year.”
My mouth dropped open. “Aren’t you supposed to be sweet? Supportive?”
“Hmm. I believe the line is, ‘beautiful, rich, and dumb as rocks.’”
We laughed at the same time, cackling over what one man had told her father. It hadn’t gone over so well. If my dad was a poster child for absentee workaholic with expectations too high for anyone to reach, Juliet’s was like Mr. Rogers if he’d been a billionaire genius. The man was so kind it seemed impossible. He was also fiercely protective of his daughters, and so the foolish failure of a date who’d dared report on Juliet’s intelligence was essentially destroyed. Kind, loving, and ruthlessly loyal were Mr. Christensen’s best and worst qualities.
Once the hilarity died down, Juliet got that pensive air again. “I guess I think you need to keep trying, but I don’t want to be one of those people that assumes you just have to wear a low-cut top and your womanly wiles will change his mind.”
I sighed, tired and tired again. When was the last time I’d felt rested? Refreshed? “I’m not going to chase him. I don’t have it in me.”
She reached for my hand and held it, evidently recognizing the severity of things based on that. A fair response considering that until the last year or so, I’d alwayshad it in me. I was a go-getter. I made things happen. I worked hard and work fueled me, so working hard made me work harder. Even the last time I’d been here, I hadn’t felt so exhausted. Everything had spun out of control and I hated it. The bright spot to Silverton, aside from the stunning beauty of the mountains and charm of the town and the so far ridiculously nice, likeable townsfolk? Aidan. I’d come back hoping to see him. And now I had.
And he’d seen me and turned on his heel.
“You don’t have to chase him. He’ll be here tomorrow, right?”
They’d taken Sunday off, and Saturday, he hadn’t been with the rest of his crew. But I doubted I’d get another reprieve. “Yes. They’re trying to wrap this up by end of June, and he wanted to get a few things done early in the month for reasons I don’t recall. So yes. Unless his guys are well, he’ll probably be here.”
Juliet flashed a bright grin. “Perfect. I’ll get a feel for him.”
I sat up, floored by the determination I saw in her expression. “And how would that work? You saunter out there in all your goddess-like glory and ask him if he has a crush on me because I’ve been talking about him for eighteen months?”
She stood and winked. “Absolutely.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Aidan
Iparked in front of the driveway, but before we got out of the truck, I turned to Luca. “Let’s talk rules.”
He groaned. “Dad. Come on. I’m eleven. I shouldn’t even be here, much less need the rules talk.”
The glare he shot me should’ve withered a thousand oaks. Unfortunately for him, I was immune to his preteen irritation, and I also wasn’t about to leave him at home alone. He’d been sick last week and had finally recovered, but now school was out, and I didn’t trust that he would tell me if he was feeling bad so I could go home and help him. When he hit double digits, he’d declared himself a man and found any attempt to “baby him”—his words—repellant.
“Even Jake and the other guys need rules. This client is important and—”
“And I need to respect their property. I need to stay safe and off the work site. I should stay in the shade. Yes, I brought sunscreen. Yes, my water bottle is full. Yes, I peed before we left. No, I do not still feel sick.”
I exhaled slowly and as silently as I could. As much as I understood his irritation with me for repeating the same questions over and over again, they came from a place of experience. Add to that the fact that he hadn’t come to a work site in over a year, and here we were.
If my nerves were a bit more present than normal for a regular Monday where I got to “play in the dirt” as my in-laws put it, then I only had myself to blame.
“Okay. You’re all set. Did you bring your Gameboy?”
He gave me the dead-eyed stare I’d come to refer to as theReally, Dad?look.
“You know it hasn’t been called a Gameboy for like thirty years, right?”
