Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (22 page)

The hooded head turned and Sophie’s face peeked out. She turned with startling agility on the boards and he realized the belt holding up her pants was a tool belt. “Morning, sleepy head,” she called down softly. “Thought I’d get started while it was cool out.”

“Get down off there! You’re going to hurt yourself.” Why in the world was she on the roof? What was she thinking?

Sophie laughed, a bright, clear sound in the still morning air. “No, I’m not. I told you—I do this for a living.” She waggled her head. “Well, not
just
roofing. But hotel maintenance. Roofing is just an occasional part.” Then she squatted on the narrow boards, the toes of her boots hanging in open air, to lean the portable nail gun against the slant of the roof. Then she easily walked the length of the board, not even wearing a harness, much less being tied off, toward the ladder! He held his breath with every step and found himself moving toward the ladder, in case she needed help.

But she didn’t. Sophie swung herself onto the ladder and climbed down as though she’d done it a thousand times.

She looked him over up and down and let out a soft chuckle. “A little underdressed for roofing, aren’t you?” She, however, was perfectly dressed. In fact, overdressed. Her lace-up brown work boots had the ends of her pants tucked inside and were well-worn—the former suede leather now slick and shiny over most of the toe. He could see a gray tee shirt under the hoodie. She was going to burn up in the sun later!

For some reason, it annoyed him. “You woke me up. What do you expect? I thought someone had fallen or there was a burglar.”

That dropped the smile from her face. “Oh. Sorry. When you said last night you wanted to get the roof done early, I presumed you meant first light. I started coffee in the office. When you weren’t there, I thought I’d get started putting up the rails to walk on. Nice job on the underlayment, by the way. That’s tough to do with only one person.”

“I . . . thank you. But—” His brain was addled, trying to take it all in and shift his mind from the image of Sophie in her sleek black dress to this new one in work boots and paint splattered jeans. It was not easy.

She touched his shoulder, her face somewhere between amused and concerned. “I think you need some coffee. I could use some more too. C’mon.” He followed her back to the office. He wasn’t sure where she’d gotten a key, but she’d indeed started coffee in the break room and there was even a box of donuts! Where had she gotten donuts? She didn’t have a car to drive anywhere. “Where did you get donuts at this time of day?”

She handed him a cup of black and then stirred cream into her cup, and smiled. “At
this time of day
? Gabe, it’s after six o’clock. I’ve been up for an hour already. The donuts are from a food truck. I saw it parked right on the corner when I first got up on the roof. So I came down and bought a box. I thought it might be nice for people when they got up and moving. They’re really good. Try one.”

He shook his head and scratched his scalp while he sipped at the coffee. He liked it black and strong and it was perfect. “Do you normally make coffee this strong, Sophia?” Everyone else here seemed to complain about his coffee.

“Me? God no! I added water to mine. But I could see how much you used last time when I threw away the old filter, so I made it the same. That’s only polite. But I
love
this brand! It’s the same one I buy. Lots of chicory. Most people don’t like chicory in their coffee. Oh, and by the way, my name is Sophie, not Sophia. That’s my real name.”

She was bright and bubbly this morning, very different from the reserved Sophie from last night. The coffee was helping, but he was still not quite awake. “I apologize. You look very much like a Sophia, but I will work to remember.” He paused for a moment, trying to change the subject. He didn’t like to make mistakes about a person’s identity. “Where did you find the boards?”

“No problem. I got them in the storeroom,” she said after a sip of a pale creamy concoction that could barely be considered coffee. “I’m trying to be careful not to split the boards. I wasn’t sure whether this was what you got them for.”

He nodded. “And trim for the upper windows afterward. I thought some color would look nice from the road.”

She pursed her lips and then smiled. “That could look really nice. I have a lot of ideas for the place too. Maybe we can sit down sometime soon and figure out what will work best to update the whole place.”

Gabe wasn’t sure what she was getting at and it made him nervous. “Well, I suppose. But I’ve kept everything in good shape. I don’t know what updates you’re thinking of.”

Something flipped in her eyes, as though she was testing what his reaction would be, and she let it go. “Nothing much. I really haven’t had a chance to look at much other than my room and the pool. But y’know, tables that have a hole in the center where you can put an umbrella might be more comfortable than the cement benches. They even have kits that are cheap online that someone like you or I, since we can work with tools, could customize.”

He had thought about buying umbrellas for out there for some time. He found himself nodding. “Not all of our guests visit the pool because there’s not much shade. Mr. Will was always worried about umbrellas because of the winds in the spring. But I told him several times that they could be weighted or have air pockets so they wouldn’t catch the wind so much.”

Sophie pointed her finger at him, with a form of triumph. “Exactly! Grandpa sometimes sometimes thought the books were more important than guest comfort. But if guests are comfortable, they come back sooner.”

Gabe did want to honor Mr. Will, but he wanted to make the place his own too. And now it was time for his ideas to be brought to life. “Thank you, Sophie. It is nice to have someone think about the guests like I do.” He put down the coffee cup on the table with a firm hand. “We will definitely sit down and talk. This motel can be a showplace if we work at it. And first on the list is a sturdy roof.”

He found himself staring at the bottom of her cup as she drained the last of the coffee. She put the cup in the sink and then said, “Let’s do this, partner. Meet you topside.” She smiled at him and he found her good humor was contagious. By the time he got up to his room, he was whistling.

By the time he got up on the roof, Sophie was already troweling cement. Her strokes were clean and neat and there wasn’t a drop of cement on her gloves or jacket yet, which impressed  him. Even seasoned roofers could be sloppy with the black tar-like goo. He got closer on the rail below her and could see that the thickness of the cement was consistent from stroke to stroke. Not too thick where it would bleed around the shingles and not too thin where it could leak. “That is beautiful. I’m not sure I could spread cement as well.” She scraped the trowel edge against a scrap of wood in her other hand. It was a foot or so around and had finger holes like a painter’s pallette. Raised edges surrounded a deep bin that rested on her elbow and was filled with cement. “I haven’t seen that tool before. What is it?”

She leaned down slightly so he could see the tray. “I don’t know that there’s a name for it. I just call it my plate. I made it myself out of a piece of siding and some Tupperware. I hate constantly going back and forth to the cement can or hauling it around with me. I’ve never had help roofing before, so I’ve always had to do stuff for myself. This holds about a half gallon, which isn’t too heavy and lets me keep moving.”

“Very clever.” This woman was fascinating him with every turn. Beautiful, smart, strong. He didn’t know many women who worked in construction so he had nothing to compare her talent to, except other men. As he slid by her on the roof to the flat area where he could open the shingles and ready the nail gun, he couldn’t help but notice the smooth curve of her hips under the jeans and her slender waist sadly hidden by the shapeless hoodie. This was no man, and he was very glad.

But strangely, he didn’t care that she was a woman.  Right now, he only cared about getting the roof done. So that’s what they did. She didn’t argue at all when he asked her to tie off to a line. In fact, she had her own lanyard, rolled up in one of the leather pockets hanging down from the belt. That made him happy. He was a safe worker. Mr. Will had always insisted.

As the sun crested the horizon and slowly crept up the trunk of the cypress tree next to the building, they nearly soundlessly put down shingles. The scraping trowel and nail gun were the only sounds they made until better than half of the shingles were in neat rows. The rest were down on the ground. He stood and leaned back against the fresh shingles and stretched his back. It was getting hot and his lips and tongue felt like sandpaper. “We should take a break and drink something. I normally keep a cooler of water and Gatorade up here, but didn’t think about it today.” She nodded and pulled back the hood of her jacket. Her head was soaked with sweat, her hair wet and plastered to her scalp. He shook his head. “Why do you wear that? Your face is very red. You could get heat sick.”

Sophie shook her head, causing small drops of sweat to fling off her. But she was far enough away that she didn’t spray him. “Better red from hot than red from burn. I have a lot of Irish in me. I burn really easily. The first time I worked on a roof, I blistered up something fierce. It was so bad I had to go to the doctor. He told me that I had better start covering up or I’d wind up with skin cancer.”

Oh. That made sense then. She was simply cautious. “I’ve heard of people burning easily, but I’ve never met one before. I spend all day out without a shirt, and have never burned. I get hot, and sweat, but then I drink some water and cool right down. I don’t know anyone in my family who has ever had a sunburn.”

She was watching him with an odd intensity in her face that he couldn’t quite place. “Lucky.” The word came out slightly breathless which made him frown. She was flushed, more than she should be.

“You need to get into the shade. You don’t look too good.”

She paused and then shook her head, as though clearing her mind. “Just a little warm. We probably should take a break.”

He unhooked his lanyard and reached for the ladder. “I will go first . . . in case you feel lightheaded coming down.” Without waiting for an answer, he climbed down and then waited at the bottom for her to come down, one foot on the bottom rung so the ladder stayed stable.

“Look, Gabe,” she said at the top before turning around and putting her feet on the rungs. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m not some delicate flower who has to be protected.” 

“Be that as it may,” he responded as she reached the rung near his head. He put his hands up to touch her waist to help guide her descent . . . causing her to freeze for a moment. “I see no reason to let your pride cause you to injure yourself. There is no shame in accepting help when you need it. And had you looked in a mirror, you would have realized you were nearing heat stroke.” She continued down the last few steps without speaking as he guided her safely to the ground. Once she was on the pavement and turned around, he dipped his head politely. “You see? Safety did not hurt, did it?”

“No.” The word was a little breathless and she was blinking. She let out a slow breath through her lips. “But I think some water would be a good idea about now.”

“Of course. You sit here in the shade. I’ll get some.”

Gabe hurried into the office. The blast of chilled air was a shock to his system and made him realize just how hot it was outside. Opening the refrigerator, he grabbed a few bottles of Gatorade and then took a few bottles of water from the cupboard that were not chilled. His uncle had always taught him to drink cool water, not cold, so he could drink more of it.

Sophie was sitting on the ground in the shade when he got back. She’d taken off her sweatshirt and still another shirt underneath. The gray tank top she was wearing was sopping with sweat. He handed her a room temperature bottle first. “Finish this and then we can drink the Gatorade. You’ve lost a lot of fluids.”

She nodded. “Good plan. I’ve never been a fan of ice water.” Watching her open and start to drink the bottle made him realize how thirsty he also was. He opened the bottle and started to drink. It was cool down his throat and he closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.

The sensation of a hand on his neck made him open his eyes, startled. The last few swallows of water spilled from the bottle down his neck. Sophie was inches from him and was staring at her hand as it wiped away the sweat on his neck. His heart started to pound from the look in her eyes. Hungry, untamed, needy. Her voice was tight and breathless as she whispered, “I’ve been needing to do that for two years. God, how I’ve wanted to.” Without another word, her fingers slid behind his neck and pulled him forward sharply. Her lips found his and he didn’t even try to stop her as she hungrily ate at his mouth. He reached for her and leaned into her body, pushing her back against the brick pillar.

Her skin was slick with sweat and the scent of the flowers was stronger, muskier—like the deepest part of the jungle. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity get away. He broke back from the kiss and pulled her by the hand toward his room. She didn’t try to stop him. He hadn’t set the lock when he joined her on the roof, so he didn’t have to get out his keys. Once inside, he locked it firmly. The rest of the shingles could wait.

The tool belt was first, and it made a satisfying thunk as it hit the floor. She worked on his until it too dropped like a weight to land on the carpeting. Gabe pulled her back, peeling off his shirt as he did, toward the bathroom. He wanted to let water pour over them together, like standing under a waterfall.

He turned on the faucets and adjusted the temperature. By the time he’d turned around, she was naked, her body soaked in sweat. He had to slip his hand down his pants to be able to unzip them, as hard as he already was. She helped pull down the pants and was kneeling when he let go of his cock. She nuzzled her face against it and he let out a groan. As much as he wanted her to surround him with her mouth, he wanted to soap her body down first, run his hands over the slickness of her. “First we bathe. Come.” He held out his hand and she took it, her body molding to his under the flow of water while he kissed her again.