I is for Ian

“Oh God, I love that,” Amanda said. “When they roll up their sleeves… ugh, girl. You should get his number next time you see him.”

“There won’t be a next time,” I said. “That was the one and only time. Not if I can help it. I don’t want to show my face ever again up there. Not while there’s a construction crew at least. Besides, he’s a jerk, and he laughed at me getting paint on myself.”

Amanda shrugged and knocked back her glass of wine.

“How long has it been since you had a date?” she asked, not making eye contact.

“Not long enough,” I said, finishing my glass. “Now, pour another one, and let’s get to cooking.”

6

IAN

It was starting to get cold up there on the open floor, and when my first break came, I decided to head down to the truck. I planned to start it up and crank the heat, turning on some music in the background while I checked my emails.

However, when I stepped outside, I found that the cold that was setting in upstairs must have just been from being on the fourth floor of a building set inside the mountain. Once I got on the ground, it was actually pretty nice, if a little chilly because of the occasional breeze. I hopped in my truck and, after a moment’s contemplation, rolled the windows down.

The truck was facing the main door of the building, and I could see everyone walking in and out of it. Guys were coming out to grab tools or other materials occasionally from the trailer that was attached to the back, but otherwise, we had cautioned staff to try to avoid going in that door. Some of them listened, but for a lot of them, routine was more important than safety apparently.

The breeze wasn’t all that bad, and I flipped on the battery of the truck to get the music going. I wouldn’t need the engine burning heat unless the breeze got colder, but for now, it wasn’t even bad enough that I needed to switch to my heavier jacket. That said, it was unseasonable for it to be that warm, and I knew what that usually meant.

Growing up in the mountainous region in Virginia, and with all my work in the Appalachians, I knew that in winter, a good day like this generally preceded bad weather over the next few days. Hopefully, we could finish the bulk of the building-out process and put in the windows before it came so we could be warm and toasty inside before anything hit. Then I could send a good portion of my crew home and let the plumbers and electric guys do their job for a while.

I would stay on, though, mostly overseeing the job and making sure I could call my guys back in or cycle in the new batch for the second half. I settled in to check my messages.

I was in the midst of sorting through which ones were important and which ones I could save for later, when I noticed someone stomping toward me. She was short and shapely and hopping mad. And terribly familiar. It hit me as she snapped off her sunglasses and stuffed one arm of them into her shirt so it hung over her lab coat.

I turned toward her and lowered my sunglasses as she approached, turning down the radio as well.

“Can I help you?” I asked as she neared my truck.

“Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” she thundered, looking directly at me.

“Well,” I said, cocking my head to one side, “that’s a hell of a way to greet someone.”

“This is extremely rude,” she said, the veins on the side of her head pulsing as she narrowed her eyes at me. She gestured wide with her arms in a way that I assumed was referencing my truck. “Extremely rude.”

“What, parking my truck?”

“Across four spots!”

“Is one of them yours?”

“That’s not the point,” she yelled. “One of them is my spot, if you must know, but it still doesn’t change the fact that parking sideways across four spots and taking up half the parking lot behind them is absolutely unacceptable.”

“Is it now?” I was egging her on and, frankly, enjoying it. She was a fine woman, and something about her being so angry was making me want to see more of it.

“Yes!” Her voice was getting higher as she got more passionate. “Of course it is. Would you like it if someone stole your spot every day so they could stick a giant truck in the way?”

“Depends. Is that giant truck there because there’s a major renovation happening? Is it there so the workers can get back and forth efficiently, thus making the time the renovation will take shorter? Is it there because it helps cordon off the area for safety reasons, including the risk of falling debris like glass from the floors above? Because if so, then I wouldn’t mind at all, lady.”