“Chloe knows how to build. She spent years right along her father’s side building and remodeling. She knows how to play a mean game of pool, so don’t you ever allow her to convince you she can’t.”
I felt like the person they were explaining couldn’t possibly be the same girl as the blonde-haired beauty tucked away inside working her way around the small kitchen.
“Chloe is a good girl,” Mike added with conviction. “She is smart, determined, and yes, even with all the things I have just revealed, she is still capable of getting hurt.” This gained my full attention as I looked up to meet the hard stare of a guy I’d known for years. “She will pretend to be unaffected, she can hide her feelings easily from those who may not know her well, but let me assure you, she can break.”
I knew what he was referring to. Looking over at Rhett, I could see the same look in his eyes, too. This was my warning from the both of them. My warning to be good to Chloe or to walk away now.
Chapter Thirteen
Chloe
I’d spent the morning at my parents’, washing and folding baskets of clothing that I had procrastinated on until I was left with the bare minimum. Laundry was the one thing I hated to do; it was tedious and so time consuming. Yes, it would probably be less of a hassle if I had my own washer and dryer, but that wasn’t the case.
I hated the laundromat. I found the idea of all those strangers washing their clothes in the same appliances as I was disturbing. The visions of what may or may not be soiling their clothing made me nauseous.
Weird, yes, but I couldn’t keep my mind from going there. I’d tried the laundromat once, and I left only to go to my mother’s and rewash all of my clothing again after I found one of the many people doing atrocious things. One man blew his nose on a washcloth and then tossed it in the washer. Another woman openly tossed in underwear that were covered in—
I shiver at the thought.
I couldn’t even think it fully through; it’s too chilling.
So I used my parents’ washer and dryer. But the problem was I had to load it all up and bring it over, only to do it all over again to take it back. Like I said, tedious and time consuming.
I’d spent the morning sorting, washing, and folding. I was a wreck, my hair a mess, and I was in desperate need of a shower. The last thing I needed was to go out in public. Yet here I was, at the one place I should have definitely avoided in my current condition.
I heard the hammering of nails into the drywall and the sounds of saws cutting through wood. A distant sound of a radio playing country music loudly. Plastic hung in the doorway ahead, used to shield the rest of the house from the renovations taking place just on the other side. The smells of reconstruction, the thrill of seeing something develop before your eyes with each step completed, all feelings I was familiar with.
I paused just outside the door and took in a deep breath, calming my racing heart before I stepped inside the room where all the action was.
Instantly, my eyes found him, though I did my very best to pretend I wasn’t immediately drawn to him—Landon, standing with his back to me. I felt my pulse quicken when I took in his masculine form, his strong muscles flexing with each movement he made. Strong shoulders, the V’ed shape of his body that led to his hips. The way his worn jeans hung low on his body was sinful and captivating.
“You bring my cooler?” My body lurched forward in reaction to my father’s voice. With a quick stumble of my feet, I lost my grip on the cooler, and though I attempted to save it, I wasn’t successful.
Watching as if it was all happening in slow motion, I saw the blue Igloo cooler hit the floor and skid on its side.
A deep chuckle, a pause of all action around me, and I knew if I looked up at that second, I would see I had now gained the attention of every guy on the site. My lungs felt heavy, like taking a deep calming breath was next to impossible.
“Well, thank the Lord your momma packs that thing to the brim.” I heard the humor in my father’s voice. “Leaves little to no room for everything to get shifted around when you decide to toss it across the work zone.”
My cheeks grew warm, and I refrained from looking at the many men I knew without a doubt were enjoying the show.
“You know your way around a work site, girl.” Again my father continued to add to my affliction without actually knowing he was. “So this reaction leads me to believe that a certain someone may be the reason behind your clumsiness.”
“Dad.” Kill me now. I felt like I was eight years old all over again and crushing on Tom Wheeler, the senior my father hired to help on weeknights and weekends.
I heard the scuffle of boots against the plywood that lined the floor, and I closed my eyes, knowing that it was someone other than my father. Silently, I prayed that it was any one of the many men I knew to be there other than Landon.
When I heard my dad chuckle, I knew that my fears had come to a head. “Here you go.” The
