Page 39 of Nailed

My eyes now snapped to Callum, who’d left his own task and was halfway to assist Brock when Rafe jumped in. He looked as puzzled at the exchange as I was, wriggling his eyebrows at me as we watched the two men.

I fully expected Rafe to deliver some smug line insulting Brock’s slip-up, even if it’d been partly my and Clara’s fault. But he didn’t. I watched in absolute fascination as the two of them worked together to stabilize the door.

“That was my fault,” Brock said gruffly. I liked how he could admit he messed up and that he evidently wasn’t one of those assholes who could never admit when they did anything wrong. Especially considering how little love he actually had for Rafe in the first place. “I should’ve waited until you or Callum could help to keep the balance.”

“The issue wasn’t your strength, it was the angle,” Rafe said, his eyes going up to the track. “Just keep an eye on the lead roller next time. They tend to walk on these old heavy duty tracks, especially if the door isn’t perfectly plumb. If you shim the bottom guide first, you can take the pressure off the top hangers.”

Brock looked surprised at both Rafe’s technical advice and the relatively chill attitude he was delivering it with. They made some more small talk about the mechanics before Rafe went back to his previous task, casting me the most discrete look before getting back on the scaffold.

I wasn’t sure if what I just witnessed was done for my benefit. Maybe I was overthinking by believing that Rafe was that obsessed with trying to one-up me on the chess board that he would really do something to help Brock of all people without being a total prick.

Or was this just some part of himself? A part that valued the integrity of the build so much that it didn’t matter who he had to assist, as long as the work was done. Did he really have that work ethic?

And Brock for his part didn’t look nearly as pissed with Rafe as I’d gotten used to him being. It was so strange to see the two of them interacting in a decidedly non-hostile way.

“Two sugars and milk,” I suddenly announced, kickstarting my brain as I recalled Clara’s coffee order. “Coming right up.”

As I prepared her coffee, I introduced her to each of the three men and they greeted her with polite professionalism. We made conversation while Clara finished her coffee before I walked her out.

“Hotness aside, they seem like they know what they’re doing,” Clara mused.

“They do,” I agreed, dragging a hand over my face.

“What’s wrong? Having three beautiful, muscular men prettying up your kitchen isn’t enough to put you in a better mood?” she joked. “I mean, if my charm didn’t even work then I at least thought the Trifecta of Hotness would.”

I snorted. “I’m just thinking about how I’m going to bounce back once this project is over. I’m not landing any gigs just yet with the studio still being unfinished. I was hoping at least that would be done by now.”

I paused, deliberating. “I’m burning through my money fast.”

Instead of giving me some half-assed apology or fake sympathy, Clara grabbed my shoulders with surprising urgency.

“Okay, you need to take a break from all this stress. No premature frown lines, alright?” she said, wagging a finger at me. “Look, I’m having a birthday party in two weeks. Why don’t you come? I think if anyone needs a break and a chance to kick back, it’s you.”

The old Lauren would probably have refused immediately. But this was the same woman who’d had my back since the very beginning of this move. And so far she hadn’t steered me wrong at all. So I did the radical thing and agreed. She cheered before giving me the details.

Just before she walked out the door, she left a hand on the jamb and gave me a look over her shoulder. “Oh and, Lauren? Feel free to bring the eye candy along.”

She gave me another cheeky wink before finally leaving.

15

Lauren

Finding something to wear for Clara’s birthday party proved to be more difficult than I thought. It was a fancy affair, hosted in an opulent refurbished warehouse gallery in the West Loop. But the venue and theme was a perfect fit for her personality—sharp, high-energy and powerful but with a playfulness that rounded her out.

I wanted to make a good impression with her and her friends and so, of course, I found myself overthinking what I was going to wear. But eventually, I snagged a midnight emerald slip dress with a thigh-high slit and strappy black heels that I thought fit the occasion perfectly.

I opted for a few gunmetal pieces of minimalist jewelry and a classy wavy hairstyle to top it all off. I was sitting in front of a lone mirror in my otherwise still-disordered bedroom, fighting to smooth out the last of my waves and trying desperately not to think about whether any of the guys were gonna pitch tonight. I wasn’t worried about that, not at all.

I certainly wasn’t flitting my eyes to my phone on the bed waiting for a text from any of them. When I’d asked them about it, Brock had been the first to hedge the question. He’d said that he wasn’t sure if he’d be free but he’d see what happened. Callum had mentioned something about not having a nice enough suit and Rafe just lobbed off some stupid comment that had me roll my eyes and immediately change the subject.

But there’d still been that potential of what if and maybe.

I finished my hair, and after one final check in the mirror, I decided to just call a cab and head to the party. Guess I was showing up solo and that was absolutely fine.

The outside of the building already looked lavish and expensive. I’d been to a few high-end venues before for photo shoots with high profile clients, but it was a different thing altogether to be invited as a guest to a party. With my job, I could just fade into the background, simply part of the decor. But for some reason, I worried that tonight would be different. And with the reception I’d received so far, I was feeling even more on edge.

I thought back to the calming strength of Callum’s presence during the community meeting and how he’d helped keep me grounded even when things got out of control.