but Boston had. She gave him a friendly nod before making her way off the cement foundation and onto the dirt. If these guys thought she was going to cave under a little rough treatment they had another thing coming.
The thigh-high stack of four-by-eight pieces of plywood lay just outside of the framed first floor. She reached over, put both hands on the sides of the top piece and pulled. It weighed a ton, and she grunted, levering the rough wood so it slid off the pile and stood upright.
Her quick glance back at the guys reminded her that she had an audience: all of them had stopped and were watching. She blew her bangs out of her eyes and gripped the cumbersome piece, lifted it about four inches and started over.
The muscles in her arms quivered and sweat streamed down the sides of her face, along her spine.
It wasn’t as though she couldn’t carry the twenty-five pound weight. It was the awkward position she had to carry it: right out in front of her. Most workers hauled shears over their heads. She’d never be able to do that.
By the time she had the piece near the corner where they were working, she was gasping. Resting it against one of the framed walls, she stepped back and swiped her forearm across her forehead.
“Gee,” Marc began, and Mandy knew by his tone he was going to be mean. “That only took you seven minutes. At this rate, we might have the first floor done in, what, about four weeks?”
Mandy glared at him but didn’t say anything, just stomped back to the pile and grabbed another one. She tried to hold the shear up higher in hopes she could cross the site faster, but the awkward position left her waddling like a duck so her knees didn’t bump into the shear. She only made it halfway before she had to stop and give her arms a much needed break.
Refusing to look at Marc or the other guys, she hoisted up the plank again and labored over to the wall then laid this piece against the other.
“Aw, come on.” A.J. set down his nail gun, stepped away from the wall he was framing and sauntered over with a grin.
“You – don’t – need – to help me,” she gasped. “I can do – it myself.”
“Sure you can, baby doll.” He was over at the pile of plywood before she could say another word. With the effort of plucking cardboard, he had two pieces of the bulky wood off the pile and up over his head. His eyes crinkled into another grin. “You pull ‘em off the stack and I’ll carry them over, how’s that?”
Mandy blinked. One glance at her brother and she knew he’d chide her later. “That’s nice of you, A.J., but I can do this. If it takes me all day, I will do this.”
“It’ll take you more than all day,” he winked. “And I know you’ll do it. But it’s a two-man job, so, I’m your man.” He started back into the house, every muscle in his body snapping to attention under the load.
Over in the corner, Marc shook his head and went back to work. Larry started whistling. The look of wary curiosity on Boston’s face had Mandy lifting her chin and staying locked in another stare-down with him until he finally turned, driving his hammer fast and hard at a two-by-four.
A stream of frustration ran through her. So this was it? Her dream of working for her dad, of learning his trade was going to be earned with teeth and nails? Power games and politics?
A.J. tossed the shears into the stack she’d started and headed back her direction. Quickly, she reached over, grabbed onto another piece of plywood and pulled it off the stack, then held it ready. His fingers brushed her gloves and he smiled into her eyes before taking the piece. “What, they didn’t have enough room for you at Harvard?”
Mandy flushed. “They did. I just…I’ve always wanted to build houses.”
“That so?” A.J.’s smile deepened. “Guess that’s why you’re here then.”
“That’s right.” Mandy gave a nod, hoping the others, including Marc, would get over it. “It’s
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