arm and pulling as hard as I can to make sure she ends up inside the cab instead of splattered on the pavement.
“I did it!” she shouts victoriously from her pretzel-like position—her body sprawled half on the floor and half on the edge of the seat.
It’s all I can do not to laugh as I congratulate her. “You did. And it was very impressive. Now, do you think you can make it all the way into the seat?”
She huffs out an exasperated sigh before getting to both of her knees, moving her bag from the seat, and lifting herself up. “Ugh! Finally!” Her breaths come out in hard pants when she sinks into the leather and clicks her seat belt into place.
“Do you need a bottle of water?” I tease, noting the way her face has flushed the prettiest shade of pink. “A cold towel, perhaps?”
She shoves my shoulder as hard as she can manage, but it’s not very hard. I have to imagine, though, she’s probably pretty worn-out after the gymnastics competition she just performed into my truck.
“Next time we ride together,” she announces with one pointed eyebrow raised in my direction, “we take my car. You just have to fall in.”
Damn, this woman cracks me the hell up.
“Sounds like a plan.” I wink. “The next day we spend together, we’ll take yours.”
She narrows her eyes but doesn’t say anything. I’m almost positive it’s of great difficulty for her. And, somehow, she even manages to keep her sarcastic remarks to herself until I put my truck in reverse and back out of the spot.
“Where are we headed now?”
“To one of my jobsites. They’re preparing to put the roof on today, so I need to make sure they have all the trusses and bracing done right.”
“Is it a house?” she asks.
Oh yeah. I forgot she knows next to nothing about me. She’s just so easy to be around; it kind of feels like we’ve known each other much longer than we really have.
“Yes. I have a residential construction company. Mostly high-end stuff in the greater San Diego area, but we also do work in a couple other places when requested,” I explain and pull out onto the main road. “This house is for a tech mogul. Invented some kind of app that Chloe thinks is a big deal, but I can’t even remember what it’s called.”
She shakes her head on a snort. “Don’t ask me. I don’t know any of that stuff. I’m, like, the opposite of a pop culture savant.”
“So, you’re saying you’re old,” I tease with a laugh.
“Pretty much, I guess.” She shrugs, nonplussed. Most women would blow their fucking gasket if I suggested they were anything other than fresh from the womb, whether I was joking or not.
“Don’t worry,” I comfort. “I’m old too. In mind and spirit anyway.” I shake my head at myself. “Getting up there in the body too, to be honest.”
“Don’t worry, you…” She abruptly pauses, shuts her mouth, and turns her head to look out the passenger window like she’s embarrassed.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re… Forty is still pretty young, and you don’t even look it.”
I smile. “Thanks. You look young, too,” I assure her. She blushes. “Not so young that I’m wondering why you’re not in school, though.”
“So, you’re saying I’m, like, the Goldilocks of age right now?”
“Yep.” I nod. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Thanks.” She flashes a little grin in my direction. “I accept the compliment.”
Frighteningly, when I look away from her, I realize I’m already approaching the driveway to the construction site. I don’t even really remember getting here, but autopilot apparently took care of me this time.
I try to shake myself out of it, though. Getting yourself so distracted while driving that something stupid could happen is the exact kind of thing I’m always preaching to Chloe not to do. It’s just as bad as texting while driving and one of the easiest ways to end up in an accident.
“Is that it?” Holley asks, staring forward at the jobsite with wide eyes.
I almost laugh. It is huge. It makes most houses look like little miniature boxes. “Yep. That’s it.”
“Maybe I should get a little hipper to pop culture? Find out who this tech guy is and see if I can get his number.”
A weird current runs through my chest, but I ignore it. She’s really funny. I’m almost positive she’s joking.
Why does it matter if she’s joking? a little voice in my head asks annoyingly. I ignore it completely, concentrating