Wicked in Love

Chapter 23 - asking

3 chapters posted today! Ch 23, 24, 25. You are reading ch 23.

Kara

Somehow things worked out. The fire had turned the office and the old bay into a pile of ashy memories, and after what seemed like a sea of paperwork were filed and processed, the rebuild had finally started.

The damaged parts of our building from the fire had been written off, and after the rubble had been cleaned up, the earth been dug, foundation poured, the shop was finally taking its shape.

Through the open window of my car, I heard the hammering and whirring of tools from our auto shop as I drove into our lot, tamped down the urge to look at the men in their construction gear. My dad's house was located behind our shop, and I continued driving until I parked in front of it.

There was no reason why it took me over an hour to get ready this morning, why I chose to wear a sundress the colour of sunshine when I was just going to my morning classes. And there was absolutely no reason now why I flipped the vanity mirror and reapplied my lip gloss, fluffed my hair, checked my teeth. But when I considered spraying perfume, I finally slapped my cheeks to sober up.

Bish, what the hell are you doing?

I took a deep breath.

Nothing, bish. I was doing nothing.

Feeling slightly combative from my thoughts, I grabbed my purse and the grocery bag close to my body like a shield and slid out of my car. The ground was slightly wet from the rain last night and already left traces of mud on my shoes. It looked like I stepped on cow shit. I stood in the same spot for a whole minute, contemplating whether I should go to the shop first or in the house.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath and stomped my way to the shop.

I pushed the tarp aside and entered bedlam. Workers milled around. There was a slight smell of chemicals mixed with sawdust in the air. The noise was loud, but that was good. It spoke of a new beginning, a shiny fresh start, and that was exciting and encouraging. And that was why I felt a tickle in my stomach. No other reason. None at all.

"Hey, Kara."

"Hey, Elijah."

He deftly flipped a hammer around in his hand and smoothly placed it back in his tool belt, looked up at me to check if I was impressed. I just shook my head, smirking. He reminded me of my brother sometimes. "Whatcha got there, girl?"

"You're going to fall down on your knees, cry and thank me today. Bought some delish grub at the store. I'll fix up some monster sandwiches for everyone."

His youthful face lit up. "Right on! Is there ham and cheese?"

"I thought you like egg sandwiches."

He made a production of throwing up. I rolled my eyes. Egg sandwiches are awesome.

"Fine. Ham and cheese, it is."

He grinned. "You're the best, Kara. 'Appreciate it."

"No problem. Have you seen my dad?"

He scratched his head. "That guy with the goatee came by. He's the detective who investigated the fire in your shop, right? I think they went somewhere to talk, but that's been over an hour ago. Your dad might be back at your house now though. Maybe?"

"I see." I chewed on my lip, looked at the open doorway behind him. "Everything looks good."

"It's coming along for sure." Then his tone turned teasing. "Looking for someone, ain'tcha?"

Before I could reply, a movement on my periphery caught my attention. I turned my head and looked up—and up, and up.

On the scaffolding stood Cameron Jeremiah Saint Laurent. His long, dark hair was covered with a hard hat and a tool belt was slung on his hips. He was with one of his crew, who looked tiny next to his towering height and muscle and was explaining something to him. But Cameron's intense blue gaze was locked on me. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. His admiring look told me that my time getting ready this morning wasn't a waste.