Page 18 of His Build
“For god’s sake, Mom,” Lucy had said, infuriated at her mother for not knowing what to do.
Her mom just sat there in the car, trying Stan on his cell over and over again. Lucy remembered wishing she could just do it herself. But she didn’t know what to do at eleven. Her mom, on the other hand, sure should have.
Lucy growled at the memory, and with each pink tag she passed, her insides heated up with more anger.
By the time she pulled the SUV up next to Graydon’s truck, all butterflies were long gone, incinerated by her simmering anger. She may have made a mistake, but she wasn’t helpless.
She reached the gravel path to the front door just as Graydon flipped back the tarp, giving her a disarming wave. The grin that went with it might as well have blown her hair back it was so dazzling.
For a moment—just a quick flash—she forgot her anger.
“Morning, Lucy,” Graydon said. He held a pink box with a flip-top lid in his hand. “Figured we could have a chat here at work. With breakfast.” He opened up the box, presenting Lucy with a dozen gorgeous looking muffins. Blueberry with crumbled sugar on top. Banana chocolate chip with walnuts. Something wholegrain and hearty with seeds and nuts on top.
Lucy’s stomach growled. She clutched her clipboard to her chest as if she could hide the sound behind it. “No thank-you,” she said, her voice sharp.
A look of disappointment washed over his face, but he recovered quickly enough. “You sure? These are Aubrey’s Diner specials. Aubrey makes the best muffins in town. The best everything in town, really.”
Lucy folded her arms. “Graydon, listen,” she said. “I appreciate you helping me out Friday night. But I want you to know I’m not stupid.”
His eyebrows went up. “What?”
“You have the wrong impression of me. You haven’t seen me at my best. I don’t normally get into car accidents. I don’t get lost easily. I make plans and I follow them, I—” she shook her head.No excusesis what she told her clients. Just get to the point.“But you didn’t need to make markers to help me find the site. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“But—”
“I’m sure your intentions were good, but I don’t need hand-holding.”
Graydon looked at her for a moment as if deciding what to say. Then he said, “No, I don’t think you do.” He snapped the lid back on the muffins.
It wasn’t the response Lucy was expecting. But she didn’t have a chance to say anything further because the rumbling of a truck sounded from up the road.
Lucy stepped away from him, her anger dampened with only a little tinge of guilt. Hehadbeen trying to do a nice thing. Two nice things, with the muffins. But she had meant what she said. She didn’t need to be coddled.
A giant truck with a series of barrels on the back burst through the trees at just that moment. It was too big for the road, and twigs and branches were sticking out from its top where it had sheared them off. The older guy driving the truck had a look of concern on his face. He rolled down the window.
“Are you sure you’re at the right site?” Graydon called up.
The man gave a worried grin. “Someone took out the smaller truck this morning—this is overkill I know, but the best I could do.”
“I need to help guide him in,” Graydon said, his voice stiffer than before. He held the muffin box awkwardly, looking around for a place to put them down.
“Here,” Lucy said, taking the box from him. Their hands brushed as he handed it over and he looked up, his expression worried.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Another flicker of guilt brushed up against her anger. She didn’t have to tear into him like that. But Graydon was stepping past her, beckoning to the driver with his hands until the truck was turned around properly.
Finally, the driver shut the truck down and got out, actually wiping his brow with the dramatics of a stage actor as he walked over to them. He was an older guy; fatherly, with a portly belly and a bald head.
“Thanks for marking the road out there, Gray. You know me, with my sense of direction I woulda gone down to the wrong property and stained some poor guy’s swimming pool.
Lucy’s mouth went dry.
“No problem,” Graydon said, smiling. He seemed to be very purposefully not looking her way.
They weren’t for me.
Lucy’s stomach plunged with mortification. Her cheeks burned—she knew she was lit up like a campfire.
