hammers and a level. “By the way, where are the other two who came with you?”
“No idea. I haven’t seen them since we got here.” Dory grinned. “But I wouldn’t be looking to recruit them if I were you. I doubt either one knows which end of the hammer to use.”
He chuckled. “Nah, I remember them. I didn’t figure they would. Here. Can you manage this, too?”
She accepted the sack of nails he handed her, still feeling the sting of his remark. He’d remembered Lisa and Jessica but not her. The thing was, Dory had no business being surprised or upset. They were both gorgeous, and she’d always been just plain tomboy Dory.
4
AS LOATH AS SHE WAS to admit it, Dory was exhausted. She was sweaty and hungry and a gallon of water sounded good about now. The amount of physical labor she’d subjected herself to was taxing enough, but coupled with the eight-hour red-eye flight she’d taken to get here, and the short time since she’d returned from Cambodia, she knew she was close to her limit.
She stepped back from the structure she’d just completed, and set down her hammer before her arm fell off. Anyway, Clint really didn’t need her anymore. Nearly a dozen men had returned from the pastures for their evening meal, but seeing that the project hadn’t been completed, they’d all chipped in. Most of them weren’t that handy with a hammer so the job still took longer than it should have, but finally, there was only one booth left to erect.
Picking up the bottle of water that Kate had brought her earlier, she took a long, cool sip and then scanned the field beyond the booths to the carousel that had been delivered an hour ago. The entire area had been designated the kids’ zone, complete with giant waterslide, an inflated fun house with a trampoline-type bottom and a section cordoned off for pony rides. She saw Curly and Tom and Silas, whom she’d met earlier, but she couldn’t find Clint.
“We’re done. Chuck and Tom will finish the last booth.” His voice came from behind her.
“Good.” She started to turn but then stopped to stretch a kink out of her neck. “Gotta admit, I was ready to call it—”
He’d taken off his shirt. His smooth bronzed chest and broad shoulders gleamed with moisture, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what she was about to say. She tried to look away, but instead her gaze swept to the low ride of his jeans on his lean, narrow hips. His belly was flat and ridged with just enough muscle to make the view interesting.
She forced her attention upward before he noticed she was staring, and was relieved to find him using his shirt to wipe his face. She took another quick sip of water to relieve her parched throat.
He took a final swipe with his shirt, met her eyes and smiled. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Ah, nothing.” She shrugged. “Just that I was going to throw in the towel.”
He nodded. “Kate reminded me that you’d flown all night. I apologize for using and abusing you.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. I was happy to help.”
“Come on, I’ll walk you back to the house. Supper should be ready soon.”
She really wished he’d put his shirt on because she could hardly trust herself not to stare like a starstruck schoolgirl. Instead, she concentrated on the pinkish-orange clouds that streaked across the slate-blue sky, courtesy of the sun sitting low on the horizon behind them. “What time does it get dark?”
“In about half an hour. We cut it close, though we could’ve strung up some lights if we had to.” They walked close together, their shoulders sometimes touching, and she tried to ignore the little shiver of pleasure the contact produced. “Tomorrow morning we’ll set up the two tents and picnic tables,” Clint continued. “Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”
“I can help.”
He snorted. “I think the boys and I can handle it. Only a few hands have regular chores assigned tomorrow. The rest will be free to help out with the party if they’re needed.”
“I should be of some use. It seems I’m much better with a hammer than most of you.”
He stopped, and gave her a long, drawn-out look of astonishment. “You are really something else, you know that?”
“It’s nothing to be shamed of. Just because you have a penis doesn’t automatically make you a carpenter.” She shrugged when his look of disbelief turned into a glare. “I’m sure you guys are probably great at rounding up cattle or whatever it is you normally do. I volunteered with Habitat for Humanity for two summers and learned how to use a hammer.”
His jaw set, he again started toward the house, balling his shirt in a tight fist and squeezing. She had a feeling he’d have preferred it were her neck.
“Nothing personal,” she said, hurrying to keep up with his accelerating pace. “But I am sorry if I hurt your feelings. Sometimes I forget how fragile the male ego is. Not just in humans. You’ll find in every species that—”
He stopped abruptly and faced her. “Can’t you for once act like a girl?”
She blinked, trying not to show how much his words had stung. It didn’t matter that regret immediately flooded his features. Or that she was well aware of her lack of feminine appeal.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He passed a hand over his face, briefly covering his mouth. “I can’t believe I said that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s okay. Really. I get it.”
“No, I was rude.” He touched her arm. “You were great today, and you don’t deserve me being a—”
“A pig,” she finished sweetly.
He tugged down the brim of his hat so that she could no longer see his eyes. “Not what I was gonna say, but yeah…I guess that’s appropriate.”
Damn right. “Forget it. Like you said, dinner is probably waiting.” She didn’t care. Not really, she thought as she continued toward the house. It was a beautiful evening. She was thrilled to be able to spend some time with the gang after not seeing them for so long. They’d have a nice dinner, and then gab until they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. Just like the old days. This was their weekend. She refused to give Clint another thought.
BY THE TIME IT WAS Dory’s turn to use the bathroom she shared with Jessica, the small room was hot and steamy, and for a second she felt as if she were back in Cambodia. Except in the jungle there was no hot shower, no privacy and no worrying about how you looked when you finally sat down to fill your belly.
She liked her job, and the guys she worked with were all top-notch in their field, as well as being a good bunch to hang out with. But she wondered if the prolonged isolation she endured wasn’t skewing her view of social correctness.
After shampooing and rinsing her hair, she wanted nothing more than to linger under the soothing warm water, but that would make her late for dinner. So she dried off, wrapped herself in the luxuriously plush pink towel, and stood in front of the fogged mirror. Perfect. She didn’t want to have to look at her reflection, anyway.
Annoyed
