“You’re something. What is it?”
He muttered something under his breath. “Okay, look.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked. Stared. Watched him lift his mask to give the golden stubble on his jaw a brief rub. He seemed genuinely uncomfortable.
“I’m trying to decide if I should tell you something. Is this a safe space? Are we friends this weekend or boss and employee or what?”
“I don’t know what we are.” She yanked another chunk of drywall free and stuffed it into the heavy-duty disposal bag. “Being friends doesn’t seem realistic. There’s too much history that’s too…” Sexual? Ugh. “There’s also too much interconnection to simply be boss and employee. Neighbors?” she suggested facetiously. “Why? Because if you have a big secret, am I really the person you want to confide in? Isn’t there someone else? Maybe start a diary.”
He sent her a disgruntled look, then bent to pop another dotted line with the hammer before he used the claw to join them.
“You’re probably the only person I’ve ever really confided in,” he surprised her by saying. “I think it’s because you were always here. At the marina, I mean. You had a front row seat to whatever was going on with Dad or my brothers. Those were the things that really stirred me up and there was no point trying to hide any of it from you. You never judged me for it, either. In fact… Do you realize you were the first person I ever said, ‘I want to build boats’ to? You said, ‘I know.’ I didn’t even know until I said it out loud.” His smile kicked up on one side, rueful.
“Really? It was so obvious! You love everything about boats.” She broke off a few more jagged edges of drywall.
“It’s still a big jump from wanting to do something and being able to do it. You believed I was capable. That was the beginning of me believing it.”
He was watching her again. It was strange. She felt as though a huge spotlight was on her. As if she had way more importance in his life than could be real. It made her heart quiver uncertainly in her chest.
“Is that what you wanted to tell me? Because it’s not exactly a secret that you like designing boats.” She carried the saw to another expanse of wall, tugging the extension cord behind her.
“No, that was me working out in real time why I find you so easy to talk to, even when you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I just don’t trust you.”
And now there was another of those awkward, heavy silences.
She ran the saw a few minutes, suspecting she’d hurt his feelings. That didn’t sit well. She set it aside to pull the sections away.
“What about your Mom? She’s a good listener. Can’t you confide in her?” she asked.
“This is not Mom conversation,” he assured her dryly.
“Why not? Is it about sex?” A bubble of excited laughter rose in her throat. “What is it? Tell me.”
“Now you’re interested in my deep dark secrets? That says more about you than it does about me, you know.”
“It means I smell a reason to mock you.”
“No mocking. If I tell you, it goes in the vault, and we never mention it again. Especially not to my brothers.” He pointed a warning finger at her.
“Five minutes of mocking,” she countered.
“I am trying to repair our relationship, Sophie. I’m offering to be vulnerable. It’s a trust fall.”
“Have my five minutes of mocking started yet? Because I can tell you’re messing with me, saying shit like that.”
“All right, I’ll say it. You can have your fun, then we’ll never mention it again.”
She waited. Rolled her wrist to insist he continued.
“I think women using tools is a very sexy look.”
“Are you still messing with me?” She looked down at her coveralls.
“No. I think it was all those power tool pinup calendars that Dad and Art used to hang.”
“The ones with women in bikinis and leather aprons holding a belt sander? They were sexist and objectifying. The tool manufacturers had to stop making them.”
“As they should. They were completely inappropriate.” His disapproval was deeply insincere. “But they made an impression during my formative years.”
“Why would you tell me this?” She was perplexed. Flattered? No. That would be wrong.
“I knew you would laugh at me. I’m not proud of it.”
“Wait. Are you saying you get turned on when you watch me work? I should take that to HR.”
“I’ve never acted on it. I don’t stand around perving at you.”
“You just did! A minute ago!”
His hammer thwack was followed by the trickling sound of gypsum falling to the floor.
“I’m not ogling. It’s like when you see a pretty woman in a sexy dress. You glance over and think, She looks hot. Then you get on with your day.”
“You think I look hot while I’m using this reciprocating saw?”
“Maybe.”
