Aaron Under Construction. Marin Thomas
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Never again would she allow a man to get close enough to hurt her or her family. Which made her attraction to Aaron, the mystery man, confusing and frustrating.
Aaron was a man of secrets. Secrets ruined lives and hurt people. What did she care? In three months he’d be gone for good.
But he has the nicest smile….
Keeping her distance was one thing; convincing herself to not like him was another. Just because he wore a borrowed tool belt and figured out how to pound in a nail semistraight didn’t make him Mr. Construction. Buried beneath the hard-hat image, she sensed a sophisticated, educated man used to working with his brain, not his hands. Definitely not your average Joe from the barrio.
Jennifer belonged in the barrio. Aaron didn’t.
She prodded his boot, then braced herself in the event he scrambled to his feet and knocked her flat on her butt.
Slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes and stared straight at her. He smiled—a sleepy, half-awake grin, that made her insides quiver and jump.
“Buenos días.”
“You’re not a dream?”
What a flirt. “I’m no dream, buddy. I’m your worst nightmare.”
His grin widened. “You can darken my doorway anytime.”
Flustered by his sexual banter, she snapped, “I thought I fired you yesterday.”
A tinge of red crawled up his neck as he scrubbed his hands across his face. “Let me explain.” He shifted position, then grimaced.
“You’re lucky you survived the night in one piece.”
“My jacket kept me plenty warm.”
Was he that naive? “Hypothermia aside, count your blessings you weren’t robbed, beaten or worse. In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t Beverly Hills.”
“I noticed.” He climbed to his feet. “Good morning, Jennifer.”
Ignoring the way her heart pitter-pattered at the quiet greeting, she wondered if the man woke up every day in such a congenial mood. His eyes, puffy from lack of sleep, glowed with warmth. His brown, slightly wavy hair stuck up in back as if he’d styled it with gel to stay that messy. Adorable. The big, handsome hunk was flat-out adorable.
“I noticed you finished the living room and entryway.”
“Does the work pass inspection?” Aaron’s face went from bedroom sexy to lost puppy in seconds flat. How did a woman keep up her defenses around a guy like this?
“Barely.” She cringed when her answer came out sounding like a sigh.
“Does that mean I stay on your crew?”
“You’ll be working on the roof today. Juan will explain what to do.”
“Yesterday you said no one else spoke English.”
“I should have said I’m the only one willing to converse with you in English.”
“As soon as I visit the little green Johnny outside, I’ll get to work.”
After ten years on construction crews, Jennifer had heard her share of crude talk. But for some reason, she blushed when Aaron mentioned using the Porta Potti. “Hustle up. This is the second day in a row you’ve been late for work.”
STOMACH RUMBLING like a badly tuned diesel engine, Aaron checked his watch for the hundredth time. Last night, he’d stopped at a mom-and-pop grocery around the corner and purchased a burrito and a Dr Pepper for supper. With the aid of a battery-powered droplight, he’d worked until 4:00 a.m., when he’d crawled into the closet and collapsed. He hadn’t gotten more than a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep before the boss lady had awakened him at the crack of dawn.
Speaking of the boss lady…Jennifer had been conspicuously out of sight all morning. In his case, out of sight did not mean out of mind. He assumed she’d been the one to set the sports drink next to his jacket during an earlier break. He’d hoped to thank her, but the one instance he’d spotted her, she’d been headed in the opposite direction—not that he’d minded the view of her backside.
At first glance, Jennifer came across as a tomboy. But the more he studied her with the crew, the more he sensed that underneath the tough exterior was a gentle, kindhearted, nurturing woman who put others before herself. The ladies he’d dated in the past tended to be self-involved, with no inclination to care about anyone but themselves. And that had been fine with him. Aside from witnessing his brother Ryan’s marriage fall apart a few years ago, he considered himself too young to worry about spending the rest of his life with one woman.
“Lunch, anglo.” Juan interrupted Aaron’s thoughts.
Aaron set the hammer aside and moved to stand when Juan’s foot slid and the man tripped. From that moment on, everything happened in fast-forward.
Juan tumbled. Aaron lunged for him but missed. Juan flipped over and Aaron snagged his ankle a second before the man would have rolled off the roof. Dangling headfirst from the two-story house, Jennifer’s second-in-command shouted for help.
Aaron braced his work boots against the roofing underlayments he’d tacked down earlier, but his body weight and heavy shoes were no match for the slick weatherproof covering. Inch by inch, he slid toward the roof’s edge. Fire streaked up his arms; his muscles burned from exertion. Pedro shouted commands in Spanish—as if Aaron could understand a damn word.
Seconds ticked off like hours until Pedro arrived at Aaron’s side and grabbed Juan’s calf. Together, they kept their coworker from plummeting to the ground.
A ladder appeared next to Juan’s torso, then Jennifer’s head popped into view. She swayed precariously and Aaron’s gut twisted in fear for her safety. She shoved a shoulder under Juan’s back and pushed him up onto the roof. Aaron and Pedro let go of Juan’s leg and collapsed onto their backs.
“From now on, use the ladder to get off the roof,” Jennifer warned. The tremor in her voice convinced Aaron that the incident had shaken her more than she intended to let on.
As soon as her head disappeared, Aaron grinned. Juan grinned. Pedro grinned. The next thing Aaron knew, the three of them were holding their guts and belly-laughing.
“Crap, that scared the hell out of me,” Aaron wheezed.
“I owe you, anglo.” Juan gripped Aaron’s shoulder, his face sober.
Now that the adrenaline rush had dissipated, the seriousness of the situation hit Aaron like a roundhouse punch to the gut. This morning he’d overheard Jennifer ask Juan about his five children. With a family that size depending on him, thank God the man had suffered only a few bruises and not a broken neck or crushed skull.
One by one, the three men made their way down the ladder. Talking excitedly, the crew gathered around Juan. The only word Aaron understood was Dios. He suspected the men were thanking the big guy above for saving their buddy’s life.
Ignored by the others, Aaron slipped away.