Page 22 of Nailed

Watching the three of them work was something special. The most obvious reason was that they were simply a crew of very hot, very capable, and very built men. The more time I spent with them and observed them, though, the more appreciation I began to have for what was less obvious.

I noticed that, where the others might need to chip away at a wall, Rafe often only needed a few minutes to study it before he could pinpoint the exact load-bearing point and bring it down with a single, controlled strike. It was clean work every time, a testament to the precision and talent that made his God-awful attitude worth tolerating.

Or how Callum was so patient and dedicated to beauty that he would spend an hour meticulously stripping off a century's worth of old paint from a surface or hand-sand wooden banisters to the feel of silk. He loved the details.

And Brock, well, Brock was the one who kept things running. He could chase a dead wire through three floors of brick and timber just to ensure the lights worked.

Seeing them work together, I now understood the foreman's insistence that Rafe was needed right at the start of this journey. It was like magic, the way their skills fit to transform every space they touched. I could see it now, even though there were still months of work ahead. The vision in my head was slowly starting to come to life.

One night in particular, the crew had decided to work a bit later and had ended up skipping dinner completely. I was pretty sure they didn't even notice, but I could see the sweat and exhaustion on them, and some part of me wanted to make sure they didn't push themselves past the point of breaking.

“Okay, time for a breather. I ordered pizzas and they'll be here in five,” I announced, clapping my hands together once to get their attention.

All three of them paused in their current tasks to look at me with varying degrees of surprise, confusion and disbelief.

“That's…very kind of you, but really not necessary,” Brock said.

I gave him a look. “Your men are on the verge of passing out. If you're not careful, they might unionize against you and they'd be well within their right to do so.”

“You hiding a law degree in one of those suitcases?” Rafe put his hammer down and sauntered over, hands on his hips. But despite the usual challenging smirk on his lips, I noted the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, and the flush of his skin after hours of heavy labor.

He truly was tired. They all were.

“I might,” I shot back. “And I have photographic evidence to prove it as well.”

“Ooh. Hear that, boss-man? I think she has your balls in a vise on this one,” Rafe nudged Brock's arm.

Callum joined us, his hands coated in plaster. “I could do with a slice.”

All of us looked at Brock expectantly. His eyes darted between our faces until they rested on me and I gave him what I hoped was a charming smile. His resultant sigh told me he probably just found it even more exhausting than all the work they'd completed today.

“Fine. But I'll compensate you for the pizzas,” he relented.

“You can compensate me by doing an amazing job on my house,” I said.

Something softened around his mouth but he didn't reply to that. I let them clean up in my sink just in time for the delivery guy to get here. They didn't stand a chance when I ordered them to the watch office and made them wait while I organized dinner.

My heart felt light as I piled three plates sky-high with slices of pepperoni and meat-lovers’ pizza. I hadn't had the opportunity to take care of anyone other than myself in a very long time and doing it now, for these three who'd been pouring their blood, sweat and tears into helping me turn this house into a home, felt as natural as breathing to me.

Granted, they were being motivated by a check, but still. The check didn't force them to put as much effort into this project as they were currently doing. Their contract didn't include Callum offering to attend the community meeting with me, or Rafe defending me against Tim, or Brock installing a brand new, top-of-the-line deadbolt on my door out of his own pocket. As though I didn't notice.

I noticed it all and this was the least I could do. I was debating on how to carry three plates at once to avoid multiple trips when someone swooped in and simply took one of them off my hands.

“Callum?” I asked.

He beamed softly at me, an extra plate in his other hand. “You looked like you could use a hand.”

Touched, I grinned and nodded at the second stack of pizza. “Feeling extra hungry, huh?”

He shook his head. “This one's for you. I figured we couldn't let our host starve while we scarfed down all her food. That just wouldn't be right at all.”

I felt giggly at his words. His boyish charm had the strangest effect on me but I wasn't complaining. We walked back to the office together, our arms brushing against each other as we made small talk about the week past and the one laying ahead.

Brock and Rafe were sprawled out on the floor of the room, with Rafe looking half asleep and resting his head on his bag and Brock checking something on his phone.

But the incoming wafting smell of meat and melted cheese snagged both of their attention like a snare. I was about to take a seat of my own on the bare floor when Callum stopped me and rolled up a nearby dust sheet for me to use as a makeshift chair. He even had napkins in his own bag that he passed around.

While the guys vacuumed up their pizza, I couldn't help but just marinate in the cozy atmosphere of the watch office.