Page 13 of Load Bearing
He didn’t say anything on the way back to the property, despite several attempts at conversation that even Trixie recognized were inane.
They finished framing the rest of the interior walls before the day’s end, and Trixie was glad that the spark between them didn’t seem to interfere with working together. Having acknowledged their mutual attraction only made it easier. If their hands brushed close, they letthem touch briefly instead of startling back and then pretending it hadn’t happened. They let admiring looks linger a moment on purpose. By the end of the day, Trixie was more worked up than if they’d spent the entire afternoon making out.
She looked at her watch—she still liked having an old-fashioned dial on her wrist to mark time—and told Hunter, “I’ll clock you out at five on the dot to keep the math easy, though it’s a few minutes to go. You did a great job. We got even more done than I’d hoped.”
Hunter gave a grumble that sounded pleased. He wasn’t chatty, but Trixie was starting to be able to recognize distinct qualities to his various grunts and growls. He had a sly sense of humor beneath his gruffness that Trixie appreciated more than the crude jests she was more used to. She started to clean up the worksite, stacking the scrap lumber and sweeping up sawdust, and Hunter joined her in the effort voluntarily, coiling up cords and hoses.
The site was buttoned up swiftly. “Will you be okay here?” Hunter asked, as she set the camera to start capturing motion and walked over the plank to the driveway.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Nothing about any of this suggests home invasion. I’m more at danger from moose here than anything else.”
Hunter looked like he wasn’t sure if she was joking. “Moose? Not… bears or wolves?”
“Moose are way meaner. Bears and wolves will avoid humans. Moose think they run the place. And this is coming into… ah… rutting season.” Trixie reminded herself that she was a grown-up woman who could talk about nature without turning into a thirteen-year-old boy.
Hunter nodded sagely. “I can see how horny moose might be a problem.”
Trixie couldn’t quite catch her laugh before it snorted from her in a very unladylike way. The best part of Hunter’s sense of humor was how unexpected it was. He looked constantly constipated, but then came out with these dry quips that hit Trixie right in the funny bone.
When Trixie had regained command of her respiratory system, she smiled at Hunter. “Thanks. For everything. It was a solid day’s work, and I… appreciated the company.”
It was very quiet with the generator off and the inevitable construction sounds of a work day silenced. Hunter was standing close, looking at her in that frowny way that Trixie had already figured out wasn’t actually mad. For a tense moment, she thought he might kiss her, and she really, really wanted him to.
“We’re going to catch the guy,” he vowed. “And then we’re going to see what this is.”
The promise thrilled Trixie to her toes.
11
HUNTER
The three-star hotel was two stories, with a single elevator that was out of order. Hunter took a swift, adequate shower and went down to the hotel bar.
The bartender was a tougher nut than Hunter himself and had no interest in conversation, but a group of three young men who looked related came in, joined a few moments later by a rowdy woman with long, loose hair who seemed to want to pick a fight.
To his surprise, there was a tingle of instinct suggesting one or more of them was a shifter; he wouldn’t be able to tell which without getting closer. Hunter eavesdropped shamelessly, nursing his craft beer and pretending to scroll on his phone.
“I can’t believe you’re working for the oligarchy!” the woman protested, dropping down at their table in a familiar fashion. “Was the money that good?”
“Not me,” one of them protested. “Talon is a slave driver, besides being a total hag.”
Hackles rose on the back of Hunter’s neck and his grip on his glass tightened.
“She’s okay,” one of the others said, barely soothing Hunter’s ire. “Just because she’s not going to pay for naps on the job or let you show up stoned. It’s just work, Feather. There’s not a surplus of jobs in this dead end town and she’s paying overtime.”
“You’re spineless, Kyle. It’s going to be an eyesore. A blight on the town.”
“It’s a quarter mile back in the woods, who cares if a billionaire builds an ugly house on their own property.”
“What about the wildlife being disrupted?”
“You aren’t drinking that Coalition for Nature Kool Aid, are you, Feather? It’s one house, not like a whole development. How much wildlife is going to be impacted?”
“Itstartswith a house,” Feather said ominously. “Can I get a Red Bull and rum?”
“No wonder you’re so paranoid!” one of the men who wasn’t Kyle scoffed.
“It’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you,” Feather smirked.
