Page 130 of Fall Fake-Out

“Hot men doing hot-men things,” Maven deadpans.

“Oh.” Landrie automatically finds Jaxon. “But why?”

“For morale!” I answer a little too loudly. “This construction site is like a ship, and I’m the captain, keeping everyone in high spirits.”

Speaking of high spirits, Wade shrugs off his flannel shirt, leaving him in just a white wife-beater. He swings the flannel above his head like it’s a lasso then throws it at Jaxon for fun. His arms flex as he lifts lumber with Ben and Ryan. Sawdust dusts his shirt. His hair is messy. His skin glistens with sweat.

Flawless. No notes.

“Close your mouths, ladies.” Edna G. appears from nowhere, startling us all to the point that we physically jump. “You’re drooling.”

I grab a donut and walk away. The other women do the same, scattering like teenagers when the cops pull up.

The problem is, I keep accidentally doing things like this, finding Wade for no reason. And half the time, his eyes somehow find mine, like he’s looking too.

We’re a mess of longing looks and glances.

The realization sends a strange flutter through my stomach—one I still haven’t figured out what to do with.

Going all in with Wade Stevenson has some serious risks. The biggest: the man doesn’t commit to anyone. But if I go in knowing that ahead of time, the rewards could outweigh the risks.

And maybe he’ll surprise me, like he’s been doing all morning.

Like when I saw Wade crouch beside a freshman from our school.

“No, see?” He pointed at the tiny bubble on the level. “You don’t want it touching the line. You want it centered. Yeah, just like that.”

The grin on the teen’s face could’ve powered Vermont.

Wade slapped him on the back. “Look at that. You’re basically a contractor now.”

A cute moment my heart couldn’t ignore.

Or, a little later, I spotted Wade helping a small boy hammer a nail. The kid couldn’t reach, so Wade lifted him onto his shoulders. The little boy pounded exactly one nail before throwing both arms into the air like he just won the Super Bowl.

More evidence to ponder on.

Somewhere around lunch, I find my mom sitting in a lawn chair beside the Ednas.

“How are things going over here?”

Edna B. frowns. “I’m getting sunburned.”

“I think I have a hat in my car. Do you want me to go get it?”

“Your boyfriend is taking care of it,” Edna G. smirks.

My boyfriend?

I look around until I spot Wade carrying a pop-up tent, walking toward us.

“Alright, ladies. I found this on Main Street. I think it came from the festival.” He starts spreading it out. “This should make you more comfortable.”

My gaze shifts to my mom. I search her expression but don’t find traces of her typical Wade suspicion. Instead, she gives me a subtle nod in approval.

Shocking.

Edna B. immediately starts complaining to Wade about something else. He kneels beside her, listening.