Page 578 of Summer Heat
No man has ever tried that with me. Nope, I always get the nice guys who want to chat on the phone before asking me out on a proper date.
Small talk? Not a skill I possess.
I never know how to tell them that I’m not good at chatting on the phone. Or chatting in general. At least not about anything outside of work. So, I end up giving them my phone number.
Sometimes, miraculously, those awkward first conversations still result in plans for a first date. With the optimistic guys, at least. The more realistic ones jump out of the burning building the second their weirdo-detection alarm starts blaring. Usually by the five-minute mark.
So far, my record is two minutes flat. I think that time, I’d answered the question about how my day went by describing—in pretty vivid detail—how we’d unclogged a drainage ditch at one of my jobsites and found ourselves knee-deep in a veritable sea of frogs...and how a group of frogs is apparently called an army, according to Google.
Frankly, I recall judging the guy a little bit for continuing to talk to me for a whole minute after I’d told him that fun amphibian fact. Though I do appreciate his effort at trying to remember the name of the Muppet character Ms. Piggy had been in love with to keep the conversation going those last painful ten seconds before he finally made a lame excuse and hung up.
With Jason, however, our chats are never awkward. No questions about my nonexistent weekend plans. No asking me how my equally nonexistent family is. It’s shop talk, and that’s it. Everything is brief, almost abrupt.
I love that.
There’s no pussy-footing with him, no socially-acceptable rules to abide by. He doesn’t care that I’m conversationally-challenged; he just cares that I do a good job.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not stupid enough to believe Jason doesn’t think I’m peculiar. But the sheer fact that I haven’t once seen that look in his eyes yet, the one that says he’s kind of wishing we’d never met, and that he’s already written me off as a person too strange to spend another second with.
Well, let’s just say that counts for a lot.
And to top it all, he hand-picked me to run this incredible project. It’s amazing to have someone like him truly believe in me, trust me to bring his construction vision to life.
I just can’t let him down.
Which means I absolutely, positively cannot be developing these bizarre new feelings for him.
Nope. Can’t happen.
So…all I have to do is stop thinking sexy thoughts about the man. Forget I ever saw Jason Steele naked.
Yup. Easy peasey.
6
| SUMMER|
FRIDAY
(Time: 3:03 a.m.)
In light of what happened the other morning with all the inappropriate cock-staring, I know I shouldn’t be here again, but…
Jason’s been acting weird.
And for me to think a person is being weird, it has to be pretty bad.
Four whole days now he’s been avoiding me, which is kind of a feat considering we work out of the same trailer on site.
The first two days, he volunteered to oversee the breakdown and removal of the existing sewage pipes underground. No one volunteers for that. It’s literally a crap job.
The next day wasn’t any better. He stayed at his corporate office, which, anyone who knows him could tell you he absolutely hates to do.
And then yesterday, he sent me an email about how he’d have an update on the marsh lands for me to review by next week. The man rarely ever sends me emails. Plus, he was sitting ten feet away from me at the time.
So here I am, freaking the heck out and knocking incessantly on his door.
He has to answer. If he doesn’t, there’s a good chance my heart is going to pound its way right out of my chest. And call me paranoid, but I’m pretty sure my having a heart attack outside of his door would just make things even weirder between us.
