of where she might be able to stay that would be walking distance to her internship. My place happens to be around the corner, so it seemed like the perfect solution. I was well overdue for a vacation anyway.”
“What do you do for work?” He took a long pull on his beer, almost missing the way Cora’s expression shifted from easy and relaxed to something that seemed a whole lot…tighter.
“I’m an office manager,” she said. “For a literary agency.”
“And what does an office manager for a literary agency do?” Trent had zero experience with anything that involved the words “office,” “management,” or “literary.” He’d avoided the cube-farm workplaces inhabited by several of his friends, going straight into hands-on dirt-under-his-fingernails work the second he walked out of school on his sixteenth birthday.
“Oh, lots of things,” she said. “I help with on-boarding new hires, running our summer internship program, coordinating company-wide initiatives for all kinds of things like corporate health and well-being, information security, workplace culture…that kind of thing.”
Trent nodded like he had a single clue what any of that meant, which he most certainly did not. “Literary agency, like for books?”
“That’s right. It’s a relatively small company. Most of our staff members are agents who represent authors and try to help them get publishing contracts. They do other things, too, like helping authors manage their careers, speaking at events, and keeping a pulse on what’s happening in the publishing industry.” She munched on a chip. “We have some pretty big clients, too. Names you might have heard of.”
Trent doubted it. The last time he read a book was…high school, most likely. The main thing he read these days was his brother’s comic strip—because it was awesome and hilarious. But between working his regular construction job, helping friends and family with an endless stream of handyman tasks, playing cricket with his mates, and maintaining a healthy social life, reading time didn’t really factor in all that much. Hell, Trent barely even watched television unless the footy was on.
That’s the kind of guy he was—he’d much rather be out with people, soaking up the rays or doing something active rather than being at home alone.
“I’m not up to date with what’s hot in the book world, I’m afraid,” he admitted.
“I’m going to take a stab and say you work with your hands.” Cora’s pale eyes twinkled with amusement.
“That obvious, huh?” Trent looked at his hand, which was wrapped around the pint glass containing his beer.
He had blue-collar hands—they were a bit beat up. Calloused and rough from hours of hard yakka. He had a bandage around his pinkie finger from where he’d sliced it on some plastic piping, and the hairs on his hands and arms were bleached white-blond from being outdoors every day. He loved his work—loved the satisfaction of taking raw materials and turning them into something solid. Loved the ability to create a place where people would build their lives and make memories.
Was it corny? A little. Would he ever say that aloud in front of his work mates? Hell, no. But he had a sentimental streak, even if he refused to show it to anyone.
“Just a bit,” Cora replied. Her eyes skated over him, curiosity unconcealed in a way that made Trent want to reciprocate. It wasn’t unusual for him to bask in the glow of admiration of the opposite sex—some might call him an attention whore.
It wouldn’t be totally incorrect.
But there was something about Cora that made him want to watch his step. Whether it was because she was a friend of Liv’s or because of the resemblance to his ex, he wasn’t sure. But Cora had an air about her that screamed: don’t get too close.
“I work in construction,” he explained. “Mostly residential developments, new builds, and the odd extension here and there. Every so often I’ll do a retail fit-out as well.”
“And renovations?”
“For my family, yeah. Liv got that house for a steal, and she needed to fix it up on a tight budget, so I’m helping her out as best I can. Pays to have a brother willing to work for free.” He popped a chip into his mouth and enjoyed the salty taste and crispy texture. “Well, in exchange for accommodation.”
“You’re staying there?” Cora’s eyes widened. “I had no idea. Liv said the house wasn’t occupied.”
“Might have been a bit of a miscommunication,” he said sheepishly. “My previous living situation became…not ideal.”