Page 16 of Frostbite & Mistletoe
For the next hour, they worked together clearing out the last of the water-damaged materials. Gabriel fell into the rhythm of the work, appreciating the physical exertion.
His sabertooth, too, seemed content with this arrangement—proximity to Kymberlie while contributing to the rebuilding of her territory.
As they were loading the last wheelbarrow of wet, soot-stained carpet and soaked drywall fragments, Kymberlie reached for a pry bar to remove a section of baseboard. Gabriel reached for it at the same moment she did. Their hands brushed against each other.
The contact was electric, an instant jolt that shot up his arm and straight down to his cock. Gabriel froze, his eyes locking with Kymberlie’s. For a split second, he saw his shock mirrored in her expression—a widening of eyes, a slight parting of lips.
Then she jerked away as if burned, her cheeks flushing.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, covering the moment with a half-laugh.
The laugh couldn’t quite mask the slight tremor in her voice, or the way her pulse jumped visibly at her throat. Gabriel smelled the subtle change in her scent—confusion mingled with attraction, and a hint of anger.
She’s interested in me! And probably annoyed as hell about it.He forced himself to suppress a smirk and handed her the pry bar with an elaborate flourish.
“Here you go,” he joked.“Just don’t get any ideas—”
“About prying that damned clipboard out of your hand the next time you inspect my place?” she retorted.
“That, too,” he said.
Chapter Five
The Hair of the Dog
Friday, December 3
(One week after the fire)
Kymberlie checked her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Her wolf prickled beneath her skin, anxious and agitated.
“He’ll be here soon,” Fred Barker murmured reassuringly.“These guys are always late. They’ve got a big area to cover.”
He and his daughters had finished rewiring the club and installing the new panel and breakers yesterday. By some miracle, or maybe a discreet phone call made by one of her pack mates, the building inspector had had an appointment available today to inspect the rough-in electrical work.
Please, God, let it pass the inspection, she prayed.
She tried to tell herself not to worry. The Barkers were skilled electricians. They had helped most of the businesses in the area.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she murmured as she spotted the building inspector’s truck turning off the highway and entering her lot.
She straightened her shoulders and stepped forward to meet him, plastering on what she hoped was a confident smile.
The inspector was a balding man with round spectacles and a clipboard (of course!). Kymberlie decided she hated clipboards.
After they exchanged curt greetings, she anxiously followed Fred and the inspector inside.
After a week of cleanup and demolition work, the inside of her place looked distressingly skeletal. All her interior walls were stripped down to their framing, and a brand-new subfloor covered the deep pit of her basement. She could still smell smoke, but it was much fainter now.
The inspector made a beeline for the new electrical panel. The next half-hour felt like an eternity as he and Fred did a walk-through to check the open wiring runs, boxes, grounding, and breaker labeling.
Kymberlie hovered nearby, trying not to crowd them. Her anxiety ramped up each time the inspector made a note on his damned clipboard, but Fred seemed to take it all in stride.
It helped her nerves that Fred was still smiling and trading amiable comments with the inspector as they proceeded through the building.
Finally, the inspector looked up and nodded curtly.“Electrical’s up to code. Congratulations, Ms. Tringstad. Your contractors can start installing drywall and flooring.”
He filled out some paperwork for Fred, signed the electrical permit card stapled to the club’s front window, and left.
