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I shrug. “So? Call Dalton.” That’s what he gets for letting her stay somewhere not renovated.
“I don’t want to bother him.”
I snort. “Well, damn. Should I feel honored that you have no qualms about bothering me?”
“You’re already here.” She tightens her arms and tips her chin up.
“So, I’m convenient.”
She narrows her eyes as she exhales through her nose.
Why is it so fun to rile her up? Is it because she doesn’t back down? I’ve never been shy about facing a challenge.
“Are you just telling me about the outlets, or are you asking for my ‘convenient’ help?”
“Why would I walk all this way out here just to tell you about it?” she snaps.
I wait her out, biting my lip not to comment on just how she walked down here to me. Did she wait until everyone else was gone to talk to me alone?
“I’m asking for your help,” she clarifies.
“Then…ask.”
Her eyes go wider with annoyance, and I refrain from grinning. She could stand a lesson in manners.
“Will you please help me?” Her tone is defeated, but I give her credit for following through.
I grin and lift my arm, indicating for her to lead the way. With my arm up, I feel the soreness in my muscles, though, and I wonder how long her issue will take. Scratch that idea for a shower. I want to soak in a tub.
I follow her up to the luxury cabin Dalton told her she could stay in. Behind her, I have every chance to check out her ass and legs in those itty bitty shorts, but I don’t. I spend too much time spotting her in case she falls, wobbly as ever in those heels.
“None of these work,” she says once we enter. She points at one wall of the living room, and I pull out my conductivity tester from my toolbelt. Here, on the wooden floor, her heels click against the even surface, and I sneak a glance at her slender legs.
“You shouldn’t walk with those heels on the road we’re building. You’ll hurt yourself.” I squat down, bringing myself to eye level with her knee as I test an outlet.
“I don’t own anything but heels.”
I drop my gaze to her ankle, then check out her polished nails. I can tell.
“I need to check the circuit box.”
She leads me to the stairs, pointing at the basement where it is.
“I can find it,” I tell her, not wanting her to risk climbing down these steps in those shoes.
I quickly see the wiring issue and head back upstairs. She’s coming from the bedroom as I return. In her hand are stark-white designer shoes. “I do have these, but they’re hideous.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. “No, don’t wear those.”
She tosses them to the sofa as she follows me, practically hovering, as I go back to the first faulty outlet and unscrew it from the wall. “Yeah,” she scoffs, “they’re pretty ugly.”
“No. I meant don’t wear those if you’re going to come down and bug me because they’re flat with no tread. Better yet, don’t bug me, and you won’t have to worry about breaking your ankles or getting your fancy shoes dirty.”
She smirks, leaning close and ignoring what I said. “What’s that for?”
“To test the electricity,” I explain.
“What do you think is wrong?”
