Page 25 of Forbidden Devotion
Had he really just committed to spending a whole day with a vampire? If his uncle saw him now, he’d be disowned.
Hopefully, he wasn’t making a big mistake.
CHAPTERTEN
Mitchel
Mitchel was already haulingshingles onto the roof when he caught Sinclair’s scent on the warm morning breeze. He dumped his load, wiped the sweat off his brow, and turned in time to watch the vampire approach.
Dressed in old jeans, brown boots, a black thermal layer with a T-shirt on top, and a ridiculous large-brimmed hat, Sinclair looked ready to raise a barn or churn cream into butter. The only thing missing was a piece of straw dangling between his lips.
“Hey! Up here.” Mitchel waved.
Sinclair glanced up, squinting in the direct light. “Hey, yourself.”
“You’re gonna roast in all that.”
Sinclair shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” Mitchel climbed down the ladder for a proper greeting and another roll of shingles. “It’s gonna be a hot one.”
“I’m sure.” He nodded toward the ladder. “You started without me.”
“Only just. Had a big breakfast first. You hungry? Need anything?”
“I’m good, but I’ve never put a roof on a house before.” Sinclair shifted on his feet, his gaze darting from the rolls of shingles to the roof and back. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”
“There’s not much to it, really. I’ll do the heavy lifting. You staple these shingles to the old ones.”
“We don’t have to take off the old ones?”
“Not this time, maybe in another ten or fifteen years.” He grabbed the roofing gun and handed it over. “You’ll need this. Don’t worry,” he said when Sinclair’s expression took on an overwhelmed edge, “it’s easy.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Thanks for coming. This will go much faster with two people.”
“No problem. I needed a break from my research anyway. After a while, one text bleeds into the next, and they stop making sense.”
Mitchel grabbed another roll and headed for the ladder. “Come on up and tell me about what you’re studying.”
Perched on the roof, Mitchel watched Sinclair awkwardly navigate the rungs with the tool in his hand. He hauled him up, hand around Sinclair’s elbow.
Sinclair landed on his butt with a thud. “Thanks.” He looked down and gulped. “Um, I’ve narrowed my scope to the causes of the first Great War and how each could have been prevented. The source material on the time period conflicts, depending on whose side is documenting the tale, so drawing conclusions is becoming problematic.”
“Tough call. I was never very good at history.” Mitchel knew better than to wade into the political mire of the Great Wars with a vampire scholar, so he focused his attention on the roof. “I’m going to roll these out. Follow me and add a nail before and after each seam, okay?”
“Got it.” Sinclair got to his knees and awkwardly maneuvered the gun in both hands. “Just point and shoot?”
“Basically, but make contact with the shingle first. It uses compressed air to drive the nail. Easy peasy.”
“Right.” Sinclair lined the first nail on the first shingle and squeezed the trigger. His mouth formed a perfect littleo.
Mitchel chuckled. “Perfect. That’s all there is to it. Just repeat that step a few thousand more times, and we’re good to go.”
They soon found a rhythm, working side by side. The pleasant chirping of birdsong kept them company as the conversation ebbed and flowed. Progress was quick, and the task was repetitive and simple, allowing Mitchel’s thoughts to drift.
It was hard not to admire Sinclair’s beauty when they were this close. His clear pale skin, flushed cheeks, button nose. His pink tongue as it darted out to wet plush lips. That golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. The play of muscle beneath excess layers of clothes. He was just Mitchel’s type.
