Aaron Under Construction

Juan disappeared with Pedro to the backyard and Jennifer strode toward Aaron. “Juan appreciates that you volunteered to cover for him.”

“No problem.”

Smiling, she tossed a pair of men’s work gloves at him. “Wear these at all times when you handle the gutters.”

“Thanks.”

“The boss asked me to drive into the office this morning.” She worried her lower lip and Aaron hoped something bad hadn’t happened. “I should be back by noon.” She walked a few steps away, then stopped and faced him. “Be careful. No injuries today.”

Feeling like a five-year-old who’d been warned to stop climbing the school flagpole, he watched Jennifer hop into her truck and drive off. In regards to construction work, he might be inexperienced, but he did other things well. If he wanted to prove he was no little boy, he should take Jennifer to bed.

Now, there was a place he’d never been accused of being inexperienced.

AT NOON Jennifer drove up to Mrs. Benitos’s house, then sat in the truck and observed the crew. Pedro walked around the corner of the porch, conversing with two buddies. Aaron followed a few steps behind—still the odd man out. To the casual observer, he appeared unaffected by his second-class status. But she understood better. His shoulders were a bit too stiff, his chin a bit too high. And he never made eye contact with any of the men.

A twinge of sympathy gripped her. Clearly, Aaron wished for his coworkers’ acceptance. But why? Why would the respect of a group of Latino men he’d never come in contact with again after this job matter to him?

Not that it was her concern anymore. After spending the morning hours with her boss, she was having a difficult time coming to grips with the sudden turn of events. As of this moment, the entire crew, including her, was unemployed.

The possibility of never working with Aaron again bothered Jennifer more than she cared to admit. After a week, he still remained a mystery—except for his character. Any doubts about his goodness had been laid to rest earlier in the morning when he’d subjected his ankles to Mrs. Padrón’s poodle in order to deliver a doughnut to her.

Aaron captivated Jennifer. It had been a long time—nine years—since any man had made her feel again. He almost convinced her to stop paying penance for a mistake she’d committed long ago and reach for the happiness she didn’t deserve.

Startled, she gasped when the man of her musings poked his head through the open truck window and grinned. “You planning on sitting in there all day?”

His face was mere inches from her own, and if she leaned forward…She flattened her shoulders against the seatback and breathed deeply. The combination of manly sweat and designer cologne wafted under her nose, the scent surprisingly arousing. Aaron was the first man she’d worked with who bothered to splash on cologne before pounding nails all day. He opened her door and she stepped out.

The guy had it all. Smelled great. Handsome. Even-tempered, kindhearted and mannerly. Aaron Smith—a genetic defect of the male species.

“How’s the gutter work progressing?” Like it matters at this point?

“Juan left a few minutes ago after we finished the back of the house. Pedro and I should be able to handle the front by ourselves.” He escorted her up the walk. “Might even finish today.”

She stopped near the porch. “Would you mind breaking for a few minutes while I speak with the crew?” If he sensed anything amiss, he kept it to himself as he walked to his cooler under the lemon tree. She entered the house and asked the men to join her outside on the lawn.

Although painful, she made eye contact with each worker as she explained the situation. When the last man drove off, she joined Aaron under the tree.

“Bearer of bad news?”

“You could say that.” She waited while he rummaged through the cooler, pulled out a water bottle, then offered her the drink. “Thank you.”

“What’s going on?”

With the tip of her finger, she traced a gouge in the tree bark near his right shoulder. “I had to let the crew go.”

“You fired everyone?”

“Not exactly.”

“What exactly?”

“Barrio Amigo lost the funding for Mrs. Benitos’s home. The project is on hold indefinitely.”

“You mean the organization began building without enough money in the bank to finish the house?”

“No. There’s evidence that someone in the organization embezzled from the company.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“Money was transferred out of the company bank accounts last week. My boss found out about the missing cash yesterday when one of the company checks bounced.”

“Has he contacted the police?”

She nodded. “That’s why I was called in this morning. The FBI interviewed me.”

“They think you stole the money?” The outrage in Aaron’s voice warmed her heart.

“No, they asked questions about my crew.”

“You don’t think one of your men stole the money, do you?”

“I hope not.”

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” Aaron’s concern appeared genuine.

“Never. Barrio Amigo began when several local businessmen agreed to donate money to improve the community. In the beginning we were a group of volunteers. We cleaned up graffiti, repaired vandalized streetlights and stop signs, then we began building small neighborhood parks. After a while the organization drew positive press and received local government funding, which enabled it to accept bigger projects like building homes for the needy. At that time the volunteers became paid employees. Taking money from the company would be like stealing from family.”

“Do they have any idea how the person gained access to the money?”

“Hacked into the bank’s computer system, transferred the money to a different account, then withdrew it.”

“Was Barrio Amigo the only company hit?”

“The FBI didn’t say. I asked my boss if he believed the bank would loan Barrio Amigo the money to finish the house, but he’d already checked into the possibility and the bank had refused.”

Aaron snagged her hand, then sank to the ground, tugging her with him. “Is the bank aware that Mrs. Benitos is a foster parent?”

“Yes, they’re aware of that. And no, it didn’t change their mind.”

“That’s not right.” The intensity in his voice surprised her.

“Maybe, but I understand. There are too many people in crisis in this community that if word got out the bank helped finish Mrs. Benitos’s home, others would demand similar favors. The bank can’t help everyone.”

“What happens to Mrs. Benitos?”

He really cares. Not one member of the crew had asked about the woman. Yet Aaron, who’d been on the job only six days, appeared more concerned about an old lady than his own paycheck. “For now she has a place to stay. If her situation changes, she can live with my family.”

Frustration built inside Jennifer until she thought she’d explode. There had been other stumbling blocks over the years and Barrio Amigo had managed to survive. Why had this setback caused her to react so strongly?