Trouble

“You’re a good man, Spence.”

Glancing at the sky, I decide this was a mistake. “I’m an asshole. Don’t forget it.”

Chapter 9

Joselyn

“Hold it right there.” I’m on a ladder, blowtorch in hand.

JR is down below, bracing two tall metal rods as I weld them.

“Hurry up,” he grunts. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

Dark glasses are over my eyes, and a cascade of golden sparks flies around us as the pieces melt into one. My high-waisted jeans protect my legs from the fire, and my hair is piled on my head in a bun, covered with a handkerchief tied on top.

I’m Rosie the Riveter, and I applied red lipstick and tied my shirt in a knot at my waist to complete the look. I told myself it has nothing to do with Spencer calling me a vintage pinup.

It’s a total lie.

After several seconds of firing, the two beams are finally secure, and I climb down. JR leans to the side wincing, and I take a break to massage his mid-back.

“That feels good,” he grunts.

“Why isn’t Scout here? You can’t help me with that old injury. It’s only going to get worse.”

“The Quarterback Princess has a daddy-daughter tea.” He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, and a nostalgic smile curls my lips.

I had the biggest crush on John Roth Dunne in high school. He’s only a year older than us, but it was enough for him only ever to think of me as a skinned-kneed little kid. I finally grew out of being hopelessly devoted to him when he went away to college and later married, but he’s still one of the best-looking guys in town. He’s not even taller than me.

“You’ll be the same way in a few years, once Sunny is big enough to run and play.” I elbow him in the ribs, and it gets me a rare chuckle.

“Yeah.”

John has always been quiet, serious, way too old for his age, and now he’s happily married with a family of his own. Maybe one day I’ll have that, even if it’s nowhere in sight. I thought I was getting there, but life sure likes to jerk the rug out from under me.

“Joselyn, would you mind… a moment?” Spencer’s deep voice pulls me from my pity party.

Straightening fast, I touch my hair, taking the protective glasses off my head, and smoothing my hands over my knotted blouse. I stand a little taller, subtly arching my back so my breasts lift. I still get slippery inside when I remember how eager he was to touch them. It was so hot.

“What’s going on here?” He nods towards JR, who’s polishing off a water bottle.

“We’re assembling the framework for the sculptures. I need someone to hold the metal beams so I can create a skeleton, then I’ll cover it with floral wire and thread the flowers through—”

“Isn’t he married?” Spencer’s voice is sharp, and my chin pulls back.

“Yes, with two kids. Why do you ask?”

“You were flirting with him.”

“I was not!” My voice goes too loud, and I look around fast, lowering it quickly. “I was not flirting with him.”

Spencer takes a moment, studying my hot face with a scowl. “I’ll help you assemble the frames. He can do something else. Or better yet, send him home.”

My jaw drops, and Spencer turns on his heel and walks to where my cousin is sticking star labels on nametags. I watch as he points to where I’m working and hands her a brown manila envelope.

Closing my mouth, I go to where John is chatting with Bruce, who handles security and graduated from Fireside High a few years before us.

“Hey, Sly.” Bruce gives me a hug. “It’s been a while since you made one of these things. I thought you’d given it up.”