Nailed. Christine d'Abo
of living room until next phase. Staff note, Matt has been making comments about Fynn and Sophia. I’m not sure what that boy’s been seeing through that lens of his, but he needs to stop running his mouth off. Sophia is a lovely young woman, I can’t image she’d do anything inappropriate on site.
—Impact Load Production Notes, Brian Merrick, Director
My mom told me that you learn a lot about yourself when you finally get your first serious job. I think she intended that to be a bit of a pep talk, reassuring me that I’d blossom as a woman as soon as I got doing what I was meant to in life. The older I got, the more ominous that sounded, until I was scared she was actually trying to warn me off becoming an adult.
So far the main thing I’d learned was how to drink more coffee than was healthy and run around like a crazy woman. I’d also become a multitasking queen, though, which was a somewhat adult skill, so go me! Currently, my multitasking involved me already prepared for my night out, clad in a black Mélissa Nepton “Eva” dress and stilettos on the construction site, leaning over my work desk as I checked the day’s progress report so I could wrap things up before leaving.
Tamara had talked me into going on a double date with her and two guys we knew in college. At least she said I knew who Jacob McNaughton was, but I couldn’t for the life of me put a face with the name. Regardless, it was Friday night and I hadn’t had any down time in nearly three weeks. I deserved a little bit of gratuitous flirting and, if I’d been the type, I’d have wished for a round of strings-free sex. I was ramped up hotter than an adolescent boy watching a Victoria’s Secret fashion show and needed to blow off some steam before I ended up dry humping a lumber pile.
Which would totally be Fynn’s fault. The bastard.
“What time is it?” I called out. I couldn’t actually see anyone in the outside room, but there was always someone floating around the site to answer. If I was late getting to the restaurant, Tamara would kill me.
“It’s nearly nine. Holy shit, you’re hot.” Of course it was Matt who answered.
I looked up from my daily notes to see him standing in the doorway, unabashedly staring at my ass. I couldn’t resist giving it a little wiggle. “Thanks. You look like shit.”
“I’m tired.” The comment lacked his usual bite. “You’re clearly heading out. Big date?”
“It’s a setup. I suspect we’ll suffer through awkward conversation over dinner and drinks before I bail. I’ll be home by midnight.”
“Why didn’t you go home to change? Fynn will have a shit fit if he sees you like that. It’s not safe.”
“I didn’t have time to finish up the dailies, go home to change and make it to The Peartree on time. I’ll be sure to hide from Fynn.”
“I’m surprised you’re giving yourself the night off at all.”
“All work and no play, right?”
The hours were starting to blur together. If I wasn’t working on Trinity House, I was in meetings reviewing the plans and how they were doing with the budget. Not to mention the no fewer than three disasters and four issues that have to be handled right now, please Sophia when I wasn’t on camera. And the hours Fynn and I spent eye fucking.
Ever since the coffee shop, we’d been doing this crazy little dance. I’d catch him looking, so I’d lean over to put my cleavage on full display. He’d stare and lick his lips before dragging his gaze back to mine. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something that had my pussy wet in less than a heartbeat. Fynn was all hard muscle, constant five-o’clock shadow and grit. He’d been trying to keep me at arm’s length when we’d first met. I thought that was because he didn’t like me. Over the past few days I suspected it had more to do with him liking me a bit too much.
Matt nodded. “I’m sure you’ll have whoever he is eating out of your hand in two minutes. I’ll see you in the morning?”
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