And then he was gone, and I didn’t see him the rest of the day. But I did get an email from him with more things to do. Working kept me busy and kept me from thinking about his crabbiness. The warehouse grew silent as the hours ticked by, as I double-checked spreadsheet after spreadsheet to make sure the money received corresponded to the money owed.
I’d always liked numbers, so the job August had saddled me with didn’t feel like work at all. I’d even have called it fun, albeit a tad disheartening. Disheartening because my access to the company’s finances showed me how it had thrived. Would my father have managed to turn his carpentry business into the hundred million dollar construction company it had become?
A knock snapped my gaze off the computer monitor.
“August told me to close the place down for the night,” said a man with an enlarged nose, teeming with burst blood vessels, and cheeks that were slightly purple. He had a smear of wood stain across his temple and a couple more on the top of his denim overalls.
“Oh. Okay.” I saved the document before shutting down the computer and grabbing my bag. As we walked through the deserted warehouse, I sensed the man glancing my way repeatedly.
When I caught him at it, he reddened all over and said, “You look exactly like your mom, but with Callum’s dimples.”
I blinked at him, sifting through my memories to place him.
He hooked his thumbs under the straps of his overalls. “Tom. I’m Tom.”
“Uncle Tom?” I said so excitedly that he shot me a toothy grin.
The nickname had been given to him by my father who’d considered him family. Especially after Tom lost his wife, daughter, son-in-law, and grandkid one blustery Christmas Eve. He’d been behind the wheel when he hit a patch of black ice. The car ended up wrapped around a tree.
“I can’t believe you still work here,” I said.
He grimaced. “I’m old, I know.”
“Oh, that wasn’t why I said that!” Aw, crap. Now I felt awful. I hooked my bag higher up my shoulder. “I’m just surprised to see a familiar face, that’s all.”
His grimace finally receded. “The Watts are good people.”
I smiled at him. “They are.”
“How long-” He darted a glance at his scuffed work boots before looking at me from underneath stubby blond lashes. “How long will you be helping out? Rest of the summer? Or just until Isobel gets better?”
“That’s not up to me.”
He held the door of the warehouse open for me to step through. As he shut the heavy door, he asked, “Still carving little figurines?”
“No.” I lifted my eyes to the star-strewn immensity over our head. “Haven’t had a chance to do that in a long time.” My father had taught me, but I wasn’t ever good at it-not like August. Everything he carved looked so lifelike.
“I still have the wolf you made me,” Tom said.
I lowered my gaze back to him. “You do?” Emotion robbed my voice of volume.
“On my fireplace mantle.”
The high beams of a car turning into the lot momentarily blinded me. I hadn’t called Jeb yet, so it couldn’t be the van. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness again, I noticed the make-a pickup.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Ness.” On his way to his parked car, he stopped to greet August.
I slid my cell phone out of my bag and texted Jeb that I was done, then watched August stride over, trying to gauge his current mood through the tether. Tense. He was tense.
He checked the lot. “How are you getting home?”
“Jeb’s coming to pick me up.” When he frowned, I added, “I only have a permit, remember?”
“Right.” He looked over my shoulder at the warehouse wall. “I can give you a lift.”
“I’m sure he’s on his way already.” I pulled my bag strap over my head so the leather cut across my chest instead of digging into my shoulder. “You still have a lot of work tonight?”
“No. I’m done for the day.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I live here.”
“In the warehouse?”
“No.” He nodded toward a small building adjacent to it. “It’s temporary. I bought a plot of land on the north side of that lake we swam in but haven’t had time to develop anything.”
“Can I see it?”
“What? The plot?”
“No. Your current lodging.”
He rubbed his jaw, as though my request necessitated profound consideration.
“Forget it,” I mumbled, a little hurt. What exactly did he think I would do? Trash his place or make disparaging comments about the decor?
He peered at the still-empty road before walking in the direction of his house.
Okay, just walk away from me. That’s not weird at all.
He stopped and turned a little. “Are you coming?””No.”
“But I thought you-” He turned completely this time, shoulders straining his gray T-shirt. A galaxy of stains speckled the cotton: glue smears, white paint, grease stains. “Why not?”
I felt both my eyebrows slant on my forehead. “You clearly didn’t want to show it to me, August.”
He loosed an exasperated sigh. “Ness… ”
I tapped on my phone to seem busy. He grumbled something. Because I couldn’t leave well enough alone, I flung my gaze back onto him. “Did I do something?”
His jaw ticked. “I don’t know. Did you?” His voice was so low that I wondered if I heard him correctly.
“You are mad at me!”
He just stood there, brooding and silent, cloaked in darkness, oozing darkness. He’d been mad at me before I came in to work, so whatever I’d done happened before today. But the last time we’d seen each other was at the hospital and-Oh…
Heat coursed through me as quick as the current in the Colorado River during snowmelt. Was August Watt jealous?