Betting the Billionaire by Avery Flynn

had the drill out and made two holes lickety-split fast. “Woodshop was my favorite class in high school. Next he used wood glue and two six-inch lag screws to attach the bottom brace and the upright. “I even joined a woodworking club in college.”
    She flipped the L-shaped wood over, and they worked together to attach the bottom brace and then the top brace. “Your university had a woodworking club?”
    “They did after I started it.” He grabbed the glue and lag screws, then joined one end of the middle upright to the center of the bottom brace.
    Enjoying the camaraderie of working together after so much discord, she took the other end and joined it to the center of the top brace. “And how many members were there?”
    “Usually one, but he had crazy good skills.” He spun the drill like a six shooter.
    She couldn’t help her laugh. “Good to know.”
    After creating the vertical support, they attached the long supports to what they’d already completed. It wasn’t hard work, but it reminded her of working on her Thunderbird. Glancing down at the screwdriver in her hand, she realized she had the same make and model in her toolbox at Fix ‘Er Up. Astonishment had her shaking her head. She’d spent so much of her life trying to get away from the woodworking shop, and yet, she found solace in working with her hands using many of the same tools she’d played with as a child in this very building. She’d never made the connection between metal and wood before.
    “Are you sure about the ribbons of blue-inlaid wood going down the center?” Gabe asked, staring at the table top she’d created and started while he cut the uprights.
    “Yeah, it’s perfect for the Beauchamps.” She stripped off her dust mask and stepped back to admire the table top. It was made of two-by-eight pieces of oak, tongue and grooved together to form a table top large enough to fit six. In the center, she’d carved out a winding river path and inlaid it with blue-stained pine.
    “Why’s that?” He came up behind her. Not touching, but close enough that she could feel the unsettling physical tug of his nearness.
    Her pulse pounded in her ears as she tried to unobtrusively brush the saw dust from her afro and clothes. What she wouldn’t give for a way to slick on some lipstick on the sly. “Their family has lived in Salvation for almost forever, and their family homestead was right on the river, which was perfect because they opened a rafting company. That location didn’t help, though, when their house caught fire. Business had petered off with the recession, and they’d dropped their insurance, meaning no funds to rebuild.”
    “So the town is building them a home?”
    “Sort of.” She shrugged, her shoulder rubbing up against his bicep, sending a delicious shiver marching across her skin.
    He brushed away some sawdust sticking to the back of her T-shirt. “What do you mean?”
    The label said one hundred percent cotton, but it felt threadbare as his hand lingered at the small of her back. “Jacobs Fine Furnishings partnered with Habitat for Humanity on the build.”
    “You organized it?” A touch of gravel entered his tone as his other hand landed on her hip.
    “It wasn’t just me.” Her voice shook, and she stepped away, desperate for space. Falling for Gabe would be dangerous, and she was far too cautious for that. It wasn’t the right time. She wished like hell she knew when that time would be.
    “You’re always taking care of people, aren’t you?” Amusement and determination gleamed in his eye. “The Beauchamps, your father, the company.”
    “I like it.” Uncomfortable with the conversation’s turn, she leaned down to study the hand-drawn design plan they’d created earlier. She ignored the bitterness lingering on the back of her tongue. When it came to family, helping was never a sacrifice. It was just what she did.
    His thumb hooked under her chin and tilted her face up. “So who takes care of