Mary Burton - Wise Moves

He wasn’t quite sure what she’d do with the pile. By the looks of her she’d never done a day of manual labor in her life—Elena sure hadn’t.

But without a word, Kristen started to collect the larger pieces in her arms. He picked up an armload himself and followed her out the back. Outside, she slid the side door of the battered red Dumpster and dumped her armload of fractured drywall inside it. Her once pristine shirt was covered in white drywall powder, as were her arms. However, without complaint she headed back inside for another load.

The two worked for the next hour, clearing out debris. When they’d removed most of the large pieces, he knocked more down. She carried more.

By four o’clock, they’d stripped the wall to its bones. And he could see that Kristen was tired. Her face was flushed, and sweat stained the front of her shirt.

“Let’s take a break,” he said.

She frowned. “But we aren’t finished.”

“The wall isn’t going anywhere and I could use some water. You got a kitchen in this place?”

“In the back. Follow me.”

As they moved up the center staircase of the shotgun-style row house, he noted she moved with her shoulders back, her hips swaying gently with each step. For the first time, he got a glimpse of the money and fine education Elena Benito had known.

Maybe she was the one.

“You move like a dancer,” he said as they entered the small kitchen. Elena Benito had loved to dance. She took him to a small apartment furnished with a bed and kitchen table.

Her hand on the kitchen cabinet, she hesitated. “I don’t dance.”

He heard the hesitation in her voice. “Could have fooled me.”

Long, delicate fingers wrapped around two white mugs that read Yoga Studio. She turned on the tap, waited until the water was cool and then filled each mug. She handed him his, careful that their fingers did not brush. “We don’t have glasses, just mugs, but they are clean.”

“Works for me.” He drank the water, amazed at how thirsty he’d become. “So what brings you to a place like this to work?” He noted the slight tension in her hands as they tightened around the mug.

“It’s a job.” She raised the mug to her lips and started to drink.

“Yeah, but what brought you to Lancaster Springs?”

She shrugged. “Lots of twists and turns, Mr. Cambia.”

“You from Virginia?”

She lifted her gaze up to his. “You are a very curious man.”

He grinned, mentally backing off. “You’re pretty. Can’t blame a guy for wanting to get to know you better.”

A blush added color to her cheeks. “I have a boyfriend.”

That caught him off guard. “Does he live around here?”

“Yes. You might meet him when he comes by to pick me up after work.”

Kristen had become a practiced liar these last nine months. Stories tripped off her tongue and sometimes she half believed them herself. Despite her attraction to Dane, it was best to keep him at arm’s length. Romance was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

“What’s his name?” Cambia refilled his cup at the tap.

“Mark,” she said easily. She’d used this made-up boyfriend before.

“Mark,” he said, testing the name. “What’s he do?”

“He’s a fireman.” The trick was to keep the lies simple so that the details didn’t trip her up later. “Are you ready to get back to work?” In truth, she hated the idea of dragging more of that white board outside. Her shoulders ached, as did her lower back. But the work was preferable to the questions.

Cambia stared at her over the mug’s rim as he drained the last of the water. He set the mug down in the sink next to hers. Then he seemed to change his mind, picked up the mug again and refilled it with water. “Let’s call it a night. We’ve gotten a lot done today.”

“Sure.” She couldn’t wait to crawl into a hot shower and let the warm water rush over her skin.

“Mind if I hold on to this mug?” He held it by the handle. “I’m some kind of thirsty. I’ll bring it back in the morning.”

“That’s fine,” she said.

“Sure.” He allowed her to lead and he followed her down the narrow hallway to the reception area. He stayed a few feet behind her but his presence surrounded her. She was aware of each deliberate step, the thud of his boots and his earthy masculine scent. He had the aura of a hunter.

Dane Cambia might be a carpenter now, but he hadn’t always been one.

He shoved his callused hands into his worn gloves. “So where are you and…what’s his name?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Mark.”

“Right. Where are you going this evening?”

“I don’t know. Dinner or a movie. We might stay in.”

“You don’t look like the type that would date a fireman.”

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you’d hook up with a lawyer or a doctor. Some guy with enough scratch to take care of you right.”

Carlos had been a doctor. “You make me sound shallow.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I just know quality, even when it’s hauling out the trash.”

Again, it struck her that he was playing some cat-and-mouse game with her. “Do you have something you want to say to me, Mr. Cambia? I don’t appreciate your observations.”

He shrugged as he moved to the front door, and paused. “I was just making conversation.”

Kristen noted the powerful muscles under the old T-shirt. “You haven’t always been a carpenter.”

“No, I sure have not.”

“What brought you here?”

He flashed a grin. “There’s lots of construction in the northern Virginia area. It’s a good place to earn a living.”

The area was booming. Washington, D.C. residents were building weekend country homes to escape the rat race. “What did you do before you became a carpenter?”

He studied her. “I was in the army. Headed up a recon unit in the Middle East.” He laughed. “But I wasn’t good at it. Kept getting lost and I never was much good at taking orders. I’m good with my hands so figured I’d try carpentry.”

Outside, a car door slammed. Kristen started. On reflex she looked out the side window at the house next door. It was the neighbor—Mrs. McKenzie.

“That your boyfriend?” he said.

“No.”

“Right, he comes at five.”

She changed the subject. “We made great progress today.”

“Sure did.”

An odd silence settled between them and she thought he’d offer her the money he owed her for today’s work. However, he didn’t. There’d been a time when she’d not have given it a second thought. Forty-five dollars was a small fortune now. “About my money…”

“Right.” He carefully set the mug on the receptionist desk and then counted out the money and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed and her body tensed.

She quickly counted it again and shoved it in her pocket. “Thanks.”

He picked up the mug by the handle. “So, I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

“What time?”

“Seven too early? If we can get in a full day, then I’ve got a chance of finishing this job up a couple of days early.”

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