Aaron Under Construction

Aaron braced his work boots against the roofing underlayments he’d tacked down earlier, but his body weight and heavy shoes were no match for the slick weatherproof covering. Inch by inch, he slid toward the roof’s edge. Fire streaked up his arms; his muscles burned from exertion. Pedro shouted commands in Spanish—as if Aaron could understand a damn word.

Seconds ticked off like hours until Pedro arrived at Aaron’s side and grabbed Juan’s calf. Together, they kept their coworker from plummeting to the ground.

A ladder appeared next to Juan’s torso, then Jennifer’s head popped into view. She swayed precariously and Aaron’s gut twisted in fear for her safety. She shoved a shoulder under Juan’s back and pushed him up onto the roof. Aaron and Pedro let go of Juan’s leg and collapsed onto their backs.

“From now on, use the ladder to get off the roof,” Jennifer warned. The tremor in her voice convinced Aaron that the incident had shaken her more than she intended to let on.

As soon as her head disappeared, Aaron grinned. Juan grinned. Pedro grinned. The next thing Aaron knew, the three of them were holding their guts and belly-laughing.

“Crap, that scared the hell out of me,” Aaron wheezed.

“I owe you, anglo.” Juan gripped Aaron’s shoulder, his face sober.

Now that the adrenaline rush had dissipated, the seriousness of the situation hit Aaron like a roundhouse punch to the gut. This morning he’d overheard Jennifer ask Juan about his five children. With a family that size depending on him, thank God the man had suffered only a few bruises and not a broken neck or crushed skull.

One by one, the three men made their way down the ladder. Talking excitedly, the crew gathered around Juan. The only word Aaron understood was Dios. He suspected the men were thanking the big guy above for saving their buddy’s life.

Ignored by the others, Aaron slipped away. He needed a good dose of caffeine to calm his frazzled nerves. As he headed for his truck, which he’d moved from the private driveway down the block after using the Porta Potti, Jennifer intercepted him at the sidewalk. Surprisingly, her presence calmed his shaky nerves.

Eyes shimmering with emotion, she clutched his forearm. “Thank you, Aaron. If you hadn’t been there…” Her fingers bit into his skin.

The boss lady might act tough, but she cared deeply about her crew. He suspected she cared deeply about a lot of things. Her family. This neighborhood. Aside from his brothers and his grandfather, Aaron couldn’t say for sure that he cared deeply about any one thing. The idea annoyed him.

Unable to stop himself, he laid his hand over hers and traced the Band-Aid on her pinky finger. Her nails were short and the skin around them dry and cracked. Helping hands. The hands of a woman who worked at something meaningful in life. “I’m heading to the nearest fast-food dive. Want me to bring you back something?”

She released his arm, her fingers leaving imprints in his skin. “You shouldn’t drive after such a close call. I’ll share my lunch.”

Aaron wasn’t sure if he was insulted or flattered by her concern. He appreciated that she intended to fuss over him, but what man wished to appear weak in the eyes of a beautiful woman? Besides, he doubted she had enough in her paper sack to feed a mouse. But those big brown eyes… “Okay. I’ll take you up on your offer.”

He followed her to the backyard, then settled on the ground and leaned against a stack of roof shingles. Jennifer offered a banana and he devoured it in four bites, while she was a few feet away, nibbling on an orange. Their proximity made keeping his eyes off her intriguing earthiness impossible.

Talk about gutsy—the lady was one-hundred-percent pure determination and courage. He admired how she’d disregarded her own safety to come to Juan’s rescue. No wonder the crew was devoted to her.

Observing her at work, witnessing how at ease she was with a hammer in her hand and nails in her pocket, brought to light the huge differences in their upbringings. Aaron admitted he’d been spoiled as a child. As an adult—he’d been handed his future…if he could prove he deserved it. He doubted Jennifer had been handed anything. Nope. She’d probably fought her way through life and clawed her way up the proverbial construction ladder to her current position as foreman. “How long have you been building homes?”

“You’re really asking how old I am, aren’t you?” She stuck a piece of fruit in her mouth, chewed once, then swallowed. “On and off since high school. My father operates heavy equipment for the state transportation department and I have uncles in the plumbing and roofing businesses. I’ve learned a bit of everything over the years.”

Aaron held his breath as she slid a sticky finger into her mouth and sucked the sweet juice from the orange. Oh, man. “So how old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.” She tossed him a sandwich.

Older than he’d expected. He lifted the edge of the bread and cringed. A vegetable sandwich? The stuff was green and leafy and gross-looking. He ate a chunk, then held his breath as he chewed. “Did you dream of being a construction worker after graduating from high school?”

A shadow flickered in her eyes. “No. I kind of fell into this job.”

Man, can I relate. He’d kind of fallen into this construction gig, too. “What did you plan to be?”

“A nurse.”

Ah, the nurturing trait again. “What kept you from going to nursing school?”

“Life got in the way.” She shoved the half-eaten orange into the sack. “What’s your story? Running from the law? Early midlife crisis?”

“Nothing that exciting.” Jennifer was no dummy. She suspected he wasn’t a construction worker. “I was ready for a change of pace.”

Evidently satisfied with his answer, she asked, “Does your girlfriend object to you working a job like this?”

For a woman who’d attempted to fire his butt yesterday, she seemed mighty interested in his personal life. “No steady girlfriend at the moment.”

“I pegged you for a playboy.”

He slammed his fist against his chest. “I’m wounded.”

Her smile caught him off guard—again. How this woman went from girl-next-door to sexy siren in three seconds flat fascinated him. “What about you? Married…divorced…dating?”

The smile disappeared and her brown eyes clouded before she dropped her gaze. “None of the above.”

He sensed her personal life was off-limits—until he got to know her better. Which he intended to do. “Who are you building the house for?”

“An elderly woman named Mrs. Benitos. A faulty wire in a space heater caused her old house to burn down. She had no insurance, so Barrio Amigo stepped in to help.”

Aaron considered the family business. What did McKade Import-Export do to help the community? Nothing. His office’s main concern was the quarterly financial reports and the bottom line. The more money the company made, the more money he made, the bigger the employee bonuses. And for what—bigger homes, more expensive cars and five-star-resort vacations?

Had he lost sight of the more worthy things in life—like helping others? Better yet, had he ever thought of helping others? He suspected Jennifer could tutor him in several subjects that had nothing to do with construction.

Again, he contemplated his grandfather’s desire to teach him responsibility. Not only did Aaron have a duty to his employees to keep the company financially sound, but he realized that a man in his position had an obligation to do more for those less fortunate. “From the looks of this area, a lot of people could use a new home. How does the organization pick and choose?”

“I wish Barrio Amigo could help everyone, but we simply don’t have the funding. Mrs. Benitos is a special case. She’s been a foster parent for nineteen years, and at fifty, she’s still taking in kids.”

“The woman sounds like a saint.”

“She’s as close to one as you’ll find in Santa Angelita. Even the delinquents who run the streets respect her and her property.”

Rummaging through her lunch, Jennifer came up with a bag of chips and handed them over. “I noticed you parked your truck in the driveway of a private residence. I don’t allow the crew—”

“I got their permission.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Salinas don’t speak English.”

“Money is a universal language.” He grinned. “I paid them a parking fee for the night.”

When her mouth sagged open, he leaned forward and popped a chip inside. Immediately, her jaws snapped closed, and his fingers barely escaped being bitten off. Sassy little thing. “Where do you live?”

“Right here,” she mumbled. “The barrio has been my family home for four generations. My great-grandparents emigrated from Mexico right after they got married.”

He’d conjured up an image of his brothers, Nelson in Chicago and Ryan in New York City, and his grandfather in Massachusetts. Spread out across the country, they kept in touch by phone and a yearly meeting. Theirs was a life Jennifer probably couldn’t imagine. “Have you ever wished to leave this place and explore the world?”

“Are you kidding? I used to dream about escaping the barrio all the time.” She crumpled the lunch sack violently, then scrambled off the ground.