Page 9 of Wildfire
When I reach the truck he walks to the passenger side to open it for me. I climb inside, and he trots around to the other side and starts driving back out. "Well, the good news is there is a project you can help with."
"The bad news?"
"I'll leave you in suspense for a few minutes."
"Chief, what are you getting me into?"
"Please call me Cole. Chief is what my guys at the firehouse call me. Or the townspeople."
"I just moved into the apartment above your garage, and you're taking me to a job interview. Aren't I part of the town now?"
He slices me a look, and I swear it feels like he just shot electricity into my body because it's pinging like a pinball machine. I keep looking at him anyway. I'm not one to back down from a challenge, and it seems like we just locked into one.
"You're different."
I turn my body toward him. "Different, how?"
His head turns out the side window, and then he looks back to the driveway where we just turned down. "Just different. We're here."
"That was fast. Where are we?"
"Well, that's the other news."
"You mean the bad news?"
"I didn't say it was bad."
"Cole," I look at him as I yank off the seat belt and open the door. There's someone in an oversized garage with a view of a lake.
"Is this the same lake?"
"Yeah. This house is just down the road."
"And is this where the job is?"
"Yeah."
A larger dock is out on the water with a handful of colorful wooden boats tied up. Next to the dock is a large canopy tent staked down with sawhorses set up underneath, and another boat is being constructed.
"I don't know how to build boats."
"You don't have to."
I spin around to face the woman standing behind me now. She's wearing coveralls and covered in dust. A face mask is propped on her head, and she's reaching out to shake my hand.
“Name’s Callie. You must be Renée.”
I shake her hand before Cole walks over and hugs her.
"Cole tells me you're a carpenter. You any good?"
"Yeah— yes. I am." I wasn't prepared to meet another woman carpenter, and I don't know why, but it is scaring the hell out of me. Men, I get. I understand what makes them tick. As long as I do the job and I look good doing it, they don't seem to mind keeping me around once I convince them Icando it. But a woman? I don't know how to be around women.
After my mom died, it was just me, my dad, and my brothers. I became the mom, even though I was only seven. I was the one cooking, cleaning, and making sure Dad paid the bills. I only had one female friend in school, but she's just as much of a Tomboy as I am. Maybe worse. When you grow up in a town that doesn't have anywhere to go that's for getting dressed up and looking good, it's easy to be like one of the boys.
"I learned from my dad and then went to carpentry school at the local community college. I've framed a couple of houses and worked on several smaller jobs. I have my own hand tools and am a quick learner."
The words fly out of my mouth, and I can't stop until she touches my shoulder. It’s like she presses the stop button on my verbal explosion.
