Page 11 of Drilled

“It’s your day off?” asked Sy.

“Not quite,” she answered. I noticed that when she looked at Sy, her eyes softened. Her arms tightened around her body, seemingly unsure. “I’m taking a personal day. I haven’t done that for a while but I need to catch up on some paperwork. While I’m here, I might as well make sure that Sandy doesn’t get in your guys’ way.”

“Good to see you came armored,” Silas teased her, and her cheeks turned pink.

When did he get so bold? Regardless, it was nice to see Lane looking a little more like herself. Between Dax’s teasing and Silas’s charm, she looked noticeably less stressed. But I wanted to make sure that everything was truly fine, and I had a feeling that wasn’t information she was going to volunteer.

Which meant there was only one real way to get it out of her: manual labor.

“Right. You know, it’s actually great that you’re home today. We could use the extra hands around here with the heavy rainfall we’re expecting later,” I said, an idea forming in my mind.

I bit back the laughter that almost caught in my throat at the expression on her face.

“Uh…yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not even dressed to work right now.”

“Really? To me you look exactly like an off-duty member of the team,” I replied and Dax snorted. “Come on. You’d be surprised how good this kind of work can be for clearing your head.”

She looked at me and the collar of my jacket suddenly felt a stitch too tight. For a moment there, I expected her to reject the offer and retreat to her room. But then she nodded her head.

“Okay. Give me a few minutes to change,” she said, walking past us and trailing the scent of soap and something sweeter. I breathed it in, wanted to keep breathing it in long after the scent faded. When she disappeared into her room, Dax turned to look at me as though I’d grown a second head.

“You’re letting her work with us? On site?” he demanded in a low voice. “Well, Bear, one thing I can’t say about you is that you’re predictable.”

“That’s great, because I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I said caustically.

Dax curled his lip, nodding his head as he took a step back. “You’re the boss. Just don’t expect me to pick up any slack she leaves behind.”

“What’s your issue with her?” I asked. “You’ve been hostile from the start. What, you don’t like anyone even remotely affiliated with the justice system, do you? Bad memories?”

He scowled.

“She’ll be fine,” Sy waved him off. “She’s competent.”

“At filing paperwork,” Dax muttered.

“At many things actually, including filing paperwork.”

For the second time that day, Lane’s sudden appearance caught us off-guard. The three of us spun around to see her watching us intently, hands on her hips. She was now wearing work pants and a flannel shirt, her dark auburn hair pulled back in a business ponytail.

I smiled slowly. “See that, Dax? Competent, good at paperwork and surprisingly quick at changing. Definitely multi-talented.”

Dax shook off whatever spell he’d been under. He smirked at Lane, immediately causing my own smile to drop. “Alright, Miss Whittaker. Let’s see if you’re just as good at stacking sandbags as you are at making an entrance.”

*

I managed to quickly get a little system going. Silas was stationed at the truckbed, tossing the wet, forty-pound woven poly-sandbags down the narrow gangway. Dax and I formed the assembly line along the tight, icy path to the basement window wells.

That’s where our honorary crewmember was posted, waiting for the next drop-off to stack against the semi-circle metal pits. Those were our buckets, I’d explained, ensuring the floodwater would run off. But she wasn’t content to stay there for very long.

Within maybe three trips, she’d trudged up the gangway, practically shivering in the biting wind but stubborn. So damn stubborn. She marched up to Silas and held her arms out, silently requesting a bag.

He hesitated, looking torn. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lane. These things are heavy.”

“I just wanna try,” she insisted. “Please?”

“Let one of us help you,” I said, stepping forward and offering a free arm. But Dax came running up the gangway, his empty arms from the return trip the deciding factor in having him be the one to help Lane.

“Are you sure?” Sy asked.