Page 41 of Spock’s Snare

“Across the highway.”

“For now.”

She shakes her head, but she follows me outside.

The afternoon heat hits us the moment we step through the door. I walk to my bike and grab the spare helmet, holding it out to her.

Chloe stares at it, then at the entrance to Inferno Ridge across the nearly empty highway. “This is ridiculous.”

“Probably.”

“You admit it?”

“I admit nothing. Take the helmet.”

She laughs again before snatching it from my hand. “Fine. But only because arguing with you will take longer.”

I steady the bike while she climbs on behind me. The moment her arms circle my waist and her body presses against my back, I decide this is the best idea I’ve had all day.

I start the engine and take my time pulling out of the clubhouse lot. The trip lasts less than a minute, but I enjoy every second. When I stop beside her construction trailer, I kill the engine but don’t immediately move.

“We should go for a longer ride later,” I say.

She removes the helmet and climbs off. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, though I can’t tell whether it’s from the heat or being pressed against me.

“I’d like that.”

A grin spreads across my face as she hands me the helmet.

“Tonight?”

“If I finish here at a reasonable hour.”

“I’ll make sure you do.”

She arches a brow. “How do you plan to do that?”

I shrug. “I’ll figure it out. You’ll find that I’m extremely resourceful.”

She grabs her supplies from the back of her truck and settles the hard hat over her hair. The professional transformation should cool my interest. It doesn’t. If anything, watching Chloe survey the construction site with confidence makes her even more attractive.

She glances back at me. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know.”

“But you’re staying?”

I lean against my bike and cross my arms. “I like to watch you work.”

Her blush is adorable.

Chloe turns away from me and walks deeper into the construction site, her hard hat firmly in place and a tablet tucked beneath one arm. I stay where I am, leaning against my bike as I watch her work.

She stops first beside a pair of men installing exterior sheathing on Puma’s house. The three of them study the wall while Chloe points to something on her tablet. One of the workers shakes his head, then gestures toward the corner. Chloe listens without interrupting, then nods and updates something on the screen.

There’s no impatience in her expression. No attitude from the men. They talk to her the same way they would talk to anyone whose judgment they trust.

She moves inside, where a woman is kneeling beside a stack of tile. Chloe crouches next to her, studies the pattern laid out on the floor, and offers a suggestion. A minute later, both women are rearranging pieces.