here. When I’d driven down this long, winding path that first time, I’d wondered if I was in the right place, everything desolate and quiet. That’s no longer the case.
Several vans and utility trucks line the dirt path. Pallets of drywall sit in front of the porch, dozens of rolls of insulation stacked beside it. From the noise already coming from within, it appears Wes’ crew is already hard at it.
I fight the urge to grab my compact out of my purse to check my face, reminding myself I’m at a construction site. As it is, I’ll probably be the only woman. No need to make matters worse by one of them catching me applying makeup. Based on the humidity in the air, it’ll only take a matter of minutes for it to melt off anyway.
Stepping out of the car, I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder and head toward the house, already getting a few side glances from the crew busy at work. I search for Wes amongst them, spotting him as he walks onto the porch.
Each time I’ve seen him before today, he’s sported three vastly different looks. From commanding businessman. To doting uncle. To the at home dinner with guests.
But this look… Well, this one may be my favorite, if for no other reason than a reminder that this man can go from wearing a tailor-made suit one day to a white t-shirt, ratty jeans, and dingy work boots, his clothes covered with dust and grime, the next. He’s like a chameleon. Just when I think I have him figured out, he changes his appearance, making me start my analysis of who he is all over again.
I continue up the gravel path, my sneakers crunching with each step. There’s something so easy and casual about Wes as he gives direction to one of the workmen. I can’t help but admire him. The concentration in his gaze. The pull of his biceps against the sleeves of his shirt. The way his jeans fall loosely from his hips, but still allow me to make out the definition of his body.
“Enjoying the view?”
His deep voice pulls me out of my fantasies about what he looks like without a shirt, about how his body would feel against mine.
I tear my gaze toward his, a flush heating my face when I observe the cocky smirk crawling across his full lips framed with scruff. He really gives off a hot, construction worker vibe, something I didn’t think possible based on how incredible he looks in a suit. When he crosses his arms in front of his chest, it takes every ounce of resolve I possess to not gawk at his biceps, his defined muscles stretching the fabric of his shirt.
“Londyn?” he says when I don’t immediately respond.
“Sorry. Yes.” I grit a smile, avoiding his stare as I pretend to push a ringlet behind my ear, despite the fact I’d tamed my curls into a short ponytail earlier. “The house looks like it’s coming along quite nicely.”
He stalks toward me, intense blue eyes spearing me as he leans toward me. “I think we both know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
I swallow hard, my heart rate picking up the longer he remains a mere breath away. Then he pulls back, smiling as he touches a hand to my back and leads me toward the house. A man I estimate to be roughly the same age as Wes assesses us as we walk, obviously curious about our somewhat intimate interaction.
“Nash, this is Londyn. She’s the interior designer we’ve hired.” He smiles down at me, a hint of pride in his expression as he introduces me. “Londyn, this is Nash, the foreman on this project. He’s the only one I trust to oversee all the construction and installation.”
“When he’s not trying to take control himself.” Nash laughs, removing his work gloves and extending his hand. He’s on the shorter side, perhaps only an inch or two taller than me. But he still appears to be in decent shape, probably from all the hours of manual labor he must put in every week. “Nice to meet you, Londyn.”
“Likewise,” I say as we shake.
“If you need anything and can’t find me, Nash is the next best thing,” Wes explains.
“Good to know. Now, where do you want me to start?”
Nash quirks a brow. “You’re here to help?” It’s not clear if he’s aggravated or impressed by the idea of a woman infiltrating his crew.
“I know how to lay