Page 12 of Drilled (Dad Bod Contracting 2)
Eventually, I have to go home, and the moment I’m alone, the cycle starts.
I’m going to do something stupid tomorrow, I just know it. I’m already trying to convince myself not to, but it’s a losing battle.
Chapter 3
I pull up to the curb outside the Waverley property, shut off the car, but don’t get out. Instead, I sit gripping the steering wheel, trying to talk myself out of being stupid.
“Do not get out of this car, Audra Donovan,” I tell myself, out loud. “Go home. You don’t need the drama, and you don’t need him.”
I groan and thunk my head against the steering wheel—because I know damn well I’m not going to listen to myself.
“Fuck it,” I argue back. “I know why I would have snuck out, but I deserve to know why he did.”
I gather my breath, hold it, and then let it out in an angry exhale. He has me flipping in circles, and talking to myself. I don’t need this. But yet, I find myself exiting the vehicle anyway, adjusting my boobs in my bra, tugging my shorts up so the lower edge of my butt shows, and pushing the waistband down to bare more of my abs and a hint of the V-cut leading down to my hoo-ha.
Franco has a thing for my V-cut—I know this for a fact because the first thing he did when he got my clothes off was run his tongue up and down those grooves. I shiver at the memory, and then shake my head to dislodge it; I’m here to yell at him for ghosting on me, not…well, not anything else.
There is, unfortunately for me, a gaggle of guys out in front of the house…which includes the same three bricklayers from the other day. New to the scene are five guys working on the landscaping—laying sod, planting bushes and flowers, carting wheelbarrows of mulch from place to place…
All eyes are on me, and all work stops.
First, yes, it’s immensely flattering to know I can still bring a scene to a standstill just by showing up—especially when my forty-first birthday is coming up in a month. But second, it’s more than a little mortifying when the three guys doing the brick paving whistle at me.
“Hey, fellas, it’s that hot-ass beer lady!” one of them calls, tossing his handful of bricks into the dirt at his feet. “Got any more beer for us?”
“No,” I say, giving them a smile. “Sorry, not today. That was a one-time-only special.”
“Hey-yo, mama, didn’t you wear that yesterday?” one of them asks, eyeing me blatantly up and down.
“I ain’t your mama, or anyone else’s,” I snark back. “And no, actually, this is a different outfit.”
“Looks the same to me, chica.”
“Well, it’s not. Those were white shorts, these are ivory, that sports bra was cherry red, and this one is navy blue.” I lift an eyebrow at him. “Would it be a problem if it was the same outfit?”
“Hell nah,” he says, backing off. “Just wonderin’.”
I stare him down. “I didn’t realize this job had a stylist. And I’m wondering if you’re being paid to ask me questions, or to lay brick.”
He shakes his head and mutters something in Spanish under his breath—which I assume isn’t polite, but I’m not about to ask for a translation. I head inside, ignoring the stares as I move past them. I find Ryder in the kitchen at a switch opening, twisting wires together, with green, red, and yellow wire-cap things clamped in his teeth. He sees me, jutting his chin up in my direction as a greeting.
The electrician of Dad Bod Contracting, Ryder is on the shorter side at five-seven or five-eight, but he’s seriously jacked—he has the body of someone intensely dedicated to a lot of heavy lifting, and who also watches what he eats pretty carefully, but not obsessively. He has bright red hair—a true redhead, with freckles and pale skin. His hair is short on the sides, longer and messy on top—truly messy, as if he just doesn’t give a shit about taking the time to style his hair, but on him, it somehow just works, like he rolled out of someone else’s bed. He has a short beard, hazel eyes, and a spray of freckles across his nose, and cheeks that would be almost unbearably adorable if they weren’t also insanely sexy. The men of Dad Bod Contracting are…a lot to take in, quite honestly. I’ve never seen them all in one room before, but Imogen has and she claims it would be bad if I did, because my libido would short-circuit in the presence of so many sexy men. And she may be right, because Ryder’s not even my type and I’m attracted to him, same with both Jesse and James. Franco, now…that man is a whole different story. “Attracted” doesn’t quite cover the way my libido feels about him.
