in a neat stack on top of her desk: the Nuts & Bolts relationship disclosure forms. Just the sight of the bold black text makes me grin. I won’t ask Tate about it, not today at least. But as of last night’s bathtub session, we’re officially a couple. The conversation about making us “work official” is sure to come up soon. I may as well be prepared.
Soft, swishy footsteps echo down the hall. With shaky hands, I swipe a form, fold it in a hurry, and shove it in the outer thigh pocket of my yoga pants.
I spin around to the open door just as Lynn spots me.
“Oh, hey, Emmie.” Her wide smile is devoid of any suspicion. God bless Lynn and her wholesome nature. “Were you looking for me?”
I nod frantically. “Uh, yep. Today’s the day the family is visiting the worksite, right? I was just wondering if you needed help with that.”
I blink like I’m sending Morse code. I hope she believes my lie.
“Oh, how sweet of you to ask! I do actually.” Lynn’s grin grows even wider.
She asks me to hand out goodie bags to the kids once they tour the home. “I’ve been so impressed with what you two have managed so far on this social media and marketing project. Have you seen how well Nuts & Bolts is trending on Twitter and Instagram?”
When I tell her I’ve scored a feature in a local industrial magazine for Nuts & Bolts, she high-fives me.
“You, Tate, Will, and I should meet next week to talk more about the amazing progress of this project. How’s next Monday morning sound?”
I nod yes before heading to the worksite. Since I’m not allowed to do any physical labor yet as part of my surgery recovery, I’ve been throwing myself full force into media promotion. All those press releases and pitches I sent out have paid off, with local news stations and the newspaper wanting to cover Nuts & Bolts’ homebuilding project.
From the side of the unfinished house walks Tate. The slow burn inside me slides into full-blown fire. He’s wearing a tattered gray shirt, worn jeans, and a tool belt. I take in the sculpted glory of his upper body with hungry eyes. Holes dot his T-shirt, giving me delicious glimpses of the perfect flesh underneath. I lick my lips.
He saunters up to me. “Looking at me like I’m a piece of meat? How very unprofessional, Ms. Echavarre.” His smirk leaves my face on fire.
Behind him trail a trio of dark-haired elementary school–aged children. Their mom, a petite woman with a kind face, follows. He introduces me to the family who we’re building the house for. The kids flash shy smiles while the mom pulls me into a hug, then sways gently back and forth. Emotion hits, and I have to swallow back a lump in my throat. She hugs a lot like my mom. When I pick my mom up from the airport in a couple of months, it’ll be nonstop bear hugs for sure.
Tate grins down at the kids. “You guys wanna see where we’re going to put up your swing set?”
His cheery tone and exaggerated smile have me swooning hard core on the inside. All those times I listened to Kaitlin and Addy raving about how attractive it is to see a man with kids, I would roll my eyes and shrug. Never understood the appeal. I do now, though.
It’s an endearing balance to his hard exterior, a peek into his ever-growing soft side—a side I didn’t think existed for the year that I’ve known him. There’s so much goodness within him that I didn’t even realize. It makes me want him more than ever.
I offer their mom the goodie bags. She thanks me, then beams at the sight of Tate pointing out the empty swath of dirt that will eventually be planted with grass. Each of the kiddos stares up at him with wide eyes. He says something we can’t hear, but it causes a raucous round of giggles among the kids. Flicking off his hard hat, he hands it to the oldest one, who tries it on before letting his younger sisters wear it. Tate high-fives them before darting to his car. He returns with a rugby ball and tosses it to the kids. They play a rousing game of catch with loads of laughter.
“What a sweet young man he is. My kids were asking him all sorts of questions about the house and the yard. He