talking about that.” Mack crossed his arms. “We’re talking about her. Who is she?”
“You’re the coordinator. You tell me.”
“I’ve had hundreds of volunteers work for me. Don’t know.” He returned my challenge with a raised brow. “You’re in charge up here, so you’re supposed to know who’s doing what. Especially with your gun.”
Propping my hands on my hips, I grunted. “You’d better get off the roof before you hurt yourself, old man. I’ve got this.”
“Set ’er straight.” Mack smacked my shoulder and grinned.
As if I’d set anyone straight. Not the way Mack meant it. Dad always said I was too nice to be a foreman. I wasn’t sure that was the truth—I hated conflict, was all. Not built for the stern, barking roll of supervisor. Course, Dad wasn’t either. He’d agonized when he had to let a man go, and when it came to the few disagreements he’d encountered with a client, he’d rather eat a loss than damage a relationship.
Made him a dang good boss. Which was why Shane stuck with him for forever.
Made him a good dad too. But I wasn’t going any further with that reverie. I had a gun-snatching girl to set straight. According to Mack.
I pulled in a long breath, as if filling my lungs would lend some kind of firmness to my lack. The woman looked up, and I caught sapphire eyes peeking beneath her faded cap. I couldn’t stop my smile. I knew those eyes.
Sapphira .
I chuckled as I moved forward.
She snatched the protective earphones off her head and slowly laid down my gun.
I squatted. “Have I been replaced?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes darted from me to the roof. The mild pink on her cheeks stood out clearly against the nearly black hair ruffling from the sides of her hat. “I’m not in charge around here.”
I laughed. “Well, you obviously know what you’re doing, although I have to tell you, I rarely let anyone touch my roofing gun.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The pink darkened to red. “I like to stay busy, and I don’t know anyone down there.” Her head nodded in the direction of the crowd enjoying lunch on solid ground.
“Don’t worry about it.” I kept grinning. Like an idiot. Man, those eyes… “Looks like you’ve saved me a half-hour’s worth of work tonight.” I caught a hint of a smile tugging on her lips before she ducked her head.
“Here.” She nodded to the nailer sitting between us, keeping her head low. “Sorry.”
I wanted to reach out to lift her chin. That’d be awkward.
“Really, it’s fine. I appreciate the help.” I dropped to my backside, hoping she’d flash those gems my way again. “Are you from around here?”
“No.” Not looking up, she tucked her hands close to her middle as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m from Minden.”
I’d been through there a couple of times. Big collection of pioneer stuff in a museum, as I recalled. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t fishing for an address. A name would do. And maybe a smile aimed my way.
I tried a little harder. “Are you a master?”
Her head came up, but only enough for me to see a timid grin trying to peek from beneath the bill of her hat. “I am, but roofing isn’t really my thing.”
Not her thing? I examined her work. Straight lines, perfectly spaced nails, and the area she covered in such a short amount of time could only be the product of experience. Lots of experience. “What is your thing?”
“Framing.”
I jolted straight. Mack had been whining before lunch that his master framer had been a no-show. Apparently he hadn’t looked hard enough. “What’s your name?”
“Sarah Sharpe.”
Enough of the shy stuff. I needed to see those eyes.
“Sarah Sharpe.” I extended my hand toward her. Certainly she wouldn’t avoid a direct greeting. “I’m Jesse Chapman.”
She looked up. Boom. Yep, they were really that blue. Wow.
Staring was pretty schoolboy, but I couldn’t help it. Her eyes had resurfaced in my mind all week. Now
“You’re the coordinator. You tell me.”
“I’ve had hundreds of volunteers work for me. Don’t know.” He returned my challenge with a raised brow. “You’re in charge up here, so you’re supposed to know who’s doing what. Especially with your gun.”
Propping my hands on my hips, I grunted. “You’d better get off the roof before you hurt yourself, old man. I’ve got this.”
“Set ’er straight.” Mack smacked my shoulder and grinned.
As if I’d set anyone straight. Not the way Mack meant it. Dad always said I was too nice to be a foreman. I wasn’t sure that was the truth—I hated conflict, was all. Not built for the stern, barking roll of supervisor. Course, Dad wasn’t either. He’d agonized when he had to let a man go, and when it came to the few disagreements he’d encountered with a client, he’d rather eat a loss than damage a relationship.
Made him a dang good boss. Which was why Shane stuck with him for forever.
Made him a good dad too. But I wasn’t going any further with that reverie. I had a gun-snatching girl to set straight. According to Mack.
I pulled in a long breath, as if filling my lungs would lend some kind of firmness to my lack. The woman looked up, and I caught sapphire eyes peeking beneath her faded cap. I couldn’t stop my smile. I knew those eyes.
Sapphira .
I chuckled as I moved forward.
She snatched the protective earphones off her head and slowly laid down my gun.
I squatted. “Have I been replaced?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes darted from me to the roof. The mild pink on her cheeks stood out clearly against the nearly black hair ruffling from the sides of her hat. “I’m not in charge around here.”
I laughed. “Well, you obviously know what you’re doing, although I have to tell you, I rarely let anyone touch my roofing gun.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The pink darkened to red. “I like to stay busy, and I don’t know anyone down there.” Her head nodded in the direction of the crowd enjoying lunch on solid ground.
“Don’t worry about it.” I kept grinning. Like an idiot. Man, those eyes… “Looks like you’ve saved me a half-hour’s worth of work tonight.” I caught a hint of a smile tugging on her lips before she ducked her head.
“Here.” She nodded to the nailer sitting between us, keeping her head low. “Sorry.”
I wanted to reach out to lift her chin. That’d be awkward.
“Really, it’s fine. I appreciate the help.” I dropped to my backside, hoping she’d flash those gems my way again. “Are you from around here?”
“No.” Not looking up, she tucked her hands close to her middle as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m from Minden.”
I’d been through there a couple of times. Big collection of pioneer stuff in a museum, as I recalled. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t fishing for an address. A name would do. And maybe a smile aimed my way.
I tried a little harder. “Are you a master?”
Her head came up, but only enough for me to see a timid grin trying to peek from beneath the bill of her hat. “I am, but roofing isn’t really my thing.”
Not her thing? I examined her work. Straight lines, perfectly spaced nails, and the area she covered in such a short amount of time could only be the product of experience. Lots of experience. “What is your thing?”
“Framing.”
I jolted straight. Mack had been whining before lunch that his master framer had been a no-show. Apparently he hadn’t looked hard enough. “What’s your name?”
“Sarah Sharpe.”
Enough of the shy stuff. I needed to see those eyes.
“Sarah Sharpe.” I extended my hand toward her. Certainly she wouldn’t avoid a direct greeting. “I’m Jesse Chapman.”
She looked up. Boom. Yep, they were really that blue. Wow.
Staring was pretty schoolboy, but I couldn’t help it. Her eyes had resurfaced in my mind all week. Now
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