Page 10 of Craving Her Cowboy
Concrete truck arrived right on the minute. The operator was a stringy old timer with an attitude, but he kept his opinions to himself when he saw Gavin and Asha working the site like they were born to it. The pour went fast and clean. They spread, smoothed, and leveled without wasted motion. At one point, Asha moved to smooth an edge and Gavin caught her elbow, steadying her as she leaned over the unset pad. His hand stayed on her arm a beat too long, but she didn’t pull away.
By the time the slab was curing, the sun was up and hot enough that he had to wipe sweat off his brow every other minute. Asha shirt sleeves were rolled so tight he could almost see the lines of muscle under her skin. She wore the cap backward now, hair escaping in little curls at her temples.
They moved to prepping wall studs. There was a narrow strip of shade along the north side of the build, barely enough for one person to stand in. She lined up in the space, and he squeezed in next to her, brushing her shoulders. He smelled the salt of her sweat and the tang of sunblock.
“You got the layout?” he asked.
She handed him the print, her finger tracing the line. “Sixteen on center, except around the windows.”
He nodded, unrolling the tape. When he bent to mark the stud locations, she leaned in to double-check, her hip bumping his. It was a small contact, but it electrified him.
“You’re left-handed,” she noted, eyebrow raised.
He grunted. “Ambidextrous. What tipped you?”
“You keep flipping the tape when you write.”
He hadn’t realized. It threw him off for a second, how closely she’d been watching.
They kept working, the conversation rolling out in short, clean bursts.
“Where’d you learn to set lines so fast?” he asked.
“My dad. Carpenter, Portland. Taught me before I could reach the table.”
He grunted in approval. “You ever want to do this for real? Build?”
“I did it for real.” She hammered the point home, literally, driving a nail with three perfect strokes. “After the Corps, I got a job with a disaster relief crew. Built more houses than I can count. Tornadoes, floods, wildfires. This,” she gestured to the half-framed walls, “is the easy version.”
Gavin kept his focus on the work. “Don’t tell anyone, but I like it better than spreadsheets and board meetings.”
She didn’t answer, but the angle of her body toward him said she agreed.
They hit a lull around noon, the slab off-limits while the concrete set. Asha sat on the makeshift bench, her legs stretched out in front, sipping at her water bottle. Gavin joined her, dropping onto the wood with a grunt. Their knees almost touched. He watched her watch the clouds, her face relaxed.
Asha set her bottle down. “So, I told you about my brothers. You got family?”
He hesitated. “Yeah. One brother and a dad who thinks he’s the king of Texas.”
She nodded, like she already knew.
“Ever think about going into politics?” she asked, a tease in the question.
He made a face. “Fuck no.”
She laughed. A real one, quick and sharp. He didn’t realize how much he’d wanted to make her laugh until he heard it.
The concrete man honked his horn, signaling he was ready for the next phase. Asha and Gavin stood up together, bothmoving at the exact same second. She handed him the chalk, their fingers touching. Warm, dry, calloused.
For the rest of the day, they framed out the walls, hammered in headers, lifted and braced as if they’d worked together for years. The physical closeness was unavoidable. At one point, they both ducked under a cross-beam at the same time, chests nearly touching, breath intermingling. Gavin’s pulse picked up, but he held the line. He could feel her presence, the heat of her, the steadiness.
They spoke more now, but it was all mission-focused: “Hold this steady.” “Mark that side.” “You got it?” “Yeah, I got it.” But every exchange carried more weight than the words alone.
As the sun dropped, they nailed off the last rim joist, dusted the splinters off their hands, and stood back to look at what they’d done. A full day’s work and it looked damn good.
Asha turned to him. “Not bad.”
He grinned, letting the sweat dry on his face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
