My grandpa had been a tin-knocker. In construction, those were the guys who ran the heating and cooling ducts from one end of the house to the other, with lots of places in-between.
Bending sheet metal – it wasn't an easy job, and his hands – even long after he'd retired – had retained plenty of scars to prove it.
And the stories he'd told – about bad bosses, unsafe conditions, and people who lost their cookies when things didn't go their way.
All of those twisted tales had been enough for me to know that Waverly would be the worst kind of person to have in charge of anything that involved power tools.
But Brody? He was turning out to be something different than I'd expected. When he turned to look in my direction, I should've looked away. But it felt cowardly to be caught staring and not own up to it.
So I gave him a little wave and an unsteady smile. His eyebrows furrowed for a long moment as we stared across the distance. But then, he did something that I never would've expected.
He actually smiled back.
It wasn't a big smile, but something about it sent my traitorous heart fluttering to dangerous new levels.
And now, I was embarrassed.
To cover my sudden discomfort, I mouthed, "You owe me." And then, fearful of making a fool of myself, I turned away and headed back into the house.
Supposedly, I started work at eight. A quick glance at my cell phone told me that it was just past seven, which meant that I still had nearly an hour of free time before I'd be needed for whatever.
I decided to spend that time as I'd originally planned – going through the house to see for myself just how bad everything truly was.
As I traveled from room to room, I occasionally crossed paths with the guys from the film crew, who were busy setting up big standalone lights powered by lots of extension cords.
In passing, I learned that the two new guys were named Mitch and Jerry. Mitch was a sound technician, and Jerry was a backup cameraman and general gopher – or at least, that's how he described himself. Unlike Waverly, they both seemed pretty nice.
As far as Waverly herself, I saw no sign of her – not that I was complaining.
Still, as I wandered through the house, I saw plenty of things to concern me – scuffed floors, cracks in the plaster, and water stains around several windows. As far as things that needed fixing, the more I looked, the more I saw.
But it wasn't until I ventured up to the third floor – a big converted attic – that I saw the worst of it.
It was bad.Really bad.
From floor to ceiling, it looked like a disaster zone, with gaping holes in the slanted ceiling and dark water-stains running down the walls.
My stomach sank.Was this even fixable?
As I stood on the top step of the secluded stairway, I silently surveyed the damage. It was then that I spotted Brody standing near the rear window – the one that overlooked the beach and endless waters beyond.
His back was turned, and his silhouette lookedveryfine, especially in contrast with the destruction all around him. His waist was narrow, and his shoulders were broad. His jeans fit to perfection, showing off long legs and a tight ass. Even his work boots made him look sexy.
How was that even possible?
With a pang, I decided that Brody was the only beautiful thing in the whole attic. Everything else literally hurt to look at.But looking at Brody?Well, it made me feelsomething, but it wasn't pain.
So was it any wonder that I couldn’t stop staring?
I was still staring when he turned to face me. When he saw me standing on the top step, he frowned across the distance. "So you came to collect, huh?"
"On what?" And then it hit me. "Oh. You mean about the hoses." I cleared the top step and began moving toward him. "Now that you mention it, youdidpromise to tell me."
He held up a hand. "Don't."
I stopped in mid-step. "Don't what?"
"Don't come any closer."
