On the way to the house, I tried to figure out why Mauro was so angry. What had set him off? The last contact we had was a flirtatious text and I let it go because I just don’t know if we should cross that line.

But one thing is for sure, we can’t let any unresolved issues remain between us or it’ll ruin this project. When I saw his truck parked a few cars behind me, and I made the decision to stop him before we went into the house so we could talk and leave all our toxic issues outside.

“I think we need to talk.” I tuck my hair into my ball cap, flipping my ponytail out.

He drops his tool bag, the stress lined in the creases around his eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t even explain why I acted like that…”

I hold my hand for him to stop. “You know what I think?”

A smile tugs on the corner of his lips and the tension plaguing his face loosens. “What?”

“That I’ve done something to upset you and you didn’t think I wanted your opinion on textiles. I tried to go back through everything since this morning, but I can’t figure out where I might’ve not treated you as an equal. It’s important that we keep an open line of communication between us, so just tell me. I promise I’m a big girl and can handle it.” I stand up straighter like I’m proving how tough I am.

He stands there, his head tilted like I’m a mathematical equation he’s having trouble trying to figure out.

“It’s okay, give it to me.” I close my eyes tight waiting for him to rip the Band-Aid off.

“Give it to you?” he asks and it’s true that you can hear a smile in someone’s voice. “Open your eyes,” he almost whispers.

I do and his blue eyes are right in front of me, a smirk on his face.

“Did you think I was going to sucker punch you?” He steps back and I miss his nearness immediately.

“No. It’s stupid. Something Lauren and I do when we have to tell the other person something bad. Like if you don’t see how pained their face is for having to tell you it helps you cope better.”

He looks as confused as I am as to why I’m telling him this. Embarrassment heats my face.

The roofers are pounding nails into place and we’re standing outside the car making spectacles of ourselves. At least I am.

“I’m not upset with anything to do with the house,” he says.

Oh phew. That’s a load off. I’d thought I was being fair, but of course the person writing the lists always thinks everything’s split down the middle.

“You’re working too hard. You’re exhausted. I get it and really, I don’t mind being here longer hours. I don’t think…”

He laughs, shaking his head.

Now this is the us I love. Not that version back at the tile place. My sixteen-year-old self is impressed by the way I’ve been able to develop this growing friendship with Mauro.

“No?” I ask, taking the hint that my statement isn’t correct.

“No.” He shakes his head.

“What could it be then? Last night? Did the fire bring up bad memories of Hunter? Do you want to talk about it? I know we’ve never really talked about anything too deep, but I’m a good listener. Just ask Lauren and Van.” He places his fingers over my lips, stepping forward and caging me against the car. He really likes this domineering role of having his body hovering over mine. Let’s face it, I kinda like it, too.

“Close your eyes, Madison,” he whispers.

One hand lands on the roof of my car and then the other one next to my head.

When my eyes are still open a few seconds later, he repeats his earlier statement. “Close your eyes.” His voice is soft and sultry and could probably make me strip down for him right now if we weren’t in public.

My eyelids flutter shut but pop back open. “You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”

His head falls forward in defeat, his body language saying I ruined the moment.

“Well?” I prod.

His hands fall back to his sides leaving me free to escape. “Yes, Madison, I was going to kiss you.”

I’m not stupid but what I just did was stupid. I effectively took the damn hose and doused the fire between us. Maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t even know anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Of course you are.” Picking up his tool bag, he waits for me to walk up the sidewalk first.

“Wait,” I say. He turns in my direction. “You still haven’t explained what made you so angry earlier.”

He looks up to the sky as though the answers are up there somewhere. “I think this is a longer conversation than we can have right now.”

Just as I’m about to suggest we head inside to talk, Emmanuel, the contractor doing our roof, calls out to Mauro from the ladder.

“Saved by the contractor.” Mauro winks and heads up the walkway.

They talk while I bundle the samples in my arms that Meadow gave us. I’ve almost reached them when Emmanuel climbs back up the ladder with some tarps in his hand.

Mauro approaches me before I reach him. “Bad news. Rain is coming so they’re covering up and heading out for the day.”

I look up at the sky, the dark clouds fast approaching. “This is what those spare days I put into the schedule are for. No worries.” I slide by him to go into the house.

His tools jiggle in the box so I know he’s two steps behind me.

“Just me and you today,” he says once we’re both in the house.

“I’m going to tackle the basement.”

“I was going to start the drywall, but maybe I should go down there with you.”

I laugh. “I can handle it myself.”

I head through the large living room to the dining room and kitchen. We’ll need to pick our paint colors soon. There is supposed to be a crew in here over the next few days to lay whatever drywall Mauro doesn’t get done. He’s been amazing at arranging the help. His men work all day with the strongest work ethic I’ve ever seen, never cutting a corner. Compared to my other projects, this one is going a thousand times smoother.

The wooden steps creak on my way down to the basement and I remind myself for not the first time that old houses make strange noises. Nothing to freak out about.

Grabbing my sketchpad to figure out how we’ll configure the basement, the fact that Mauro said he was going to kiss me outside lingers in the forefront of my mind.

I still don’t understand why he was so angry earlier, but maybe it’s better to just let it go unexplained.

An hour later, I’ve got my plans to go over with Mauro. When I step onto the top of the landing of the staircase I see that the sky appears even darker and angrier than earlier.

“A storm is definitely on its way.” I shut the back door, the cool rush of air igniting a cascade of goose bumps along my skin.

I turn to find Mauro there, his shirt stripped off, long forgotten on his toolbox. Sweat glistens off the curves and crevices of his muscular body.

Did I say I was cold? It’s suddenly like an oven in here. His hat is on backward which I’ve realized he only seems to wear when he’s working. It reminds me of the high school version of himself.

It takes me a second, but I realize that Snow Patrol is playing through a small Bluetooth speaker to his right.

The night from forever ago rushes back to me. This was the song playing on the radio when I drove him home.

I sit down on the dining room table we didn’t have the heart to remove and watch his corded forearms strain as he lifts a sheet of drywall. He really is a man’s man. So different than any other man I’ve dated. They were all good with their heads. Engineers, professors, accountants. Mauro holds more sex appeal than all of them put together.

His looks are what drew me in all those years ago. The cocky quarterback every girl wanted. An Adonis of a guy that all the girls dreamed of taming. Now years later, after getting to know him better, it’s clear that I never really knew him back then.

That night under the stars on that baseball field that I saw as a moment of bonding and trust on his part wasn’t. The man that’s standing in front of me now isn’t an unsure boy taking an opportunity when it presented itself. He’s so much more than a handsome face. He’s smart, considerate, and hard-working. I need to get my expectations back in check.

“The storm is going to be here any minute.” Mauro talks directly to the wall. “I’m trying to just finish this wall then we can head out.”

I pull my legs up to my chest and let a contented sigh out. This view coupled with the promise of being unable to do anything but lay in bed listening to the rain. Or reading a book. I love these lazy days.

“Do you like thunderstorms?” I ask, never letting an opportunity pass where I can get to know him.

He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. More just the steady rain than the thunder and lightning.” His answer is nonchalant so I don’t offer my own opinion and he doesn’t ask.

Finishing up the wall, he drops the X-acto knife in the bin and studies his work. “The crew I hired should be able to finish over the next few days. We’re really making progress.”

Whereas I’ve always done days of framing, followed by days of drywalling, followed by days of mudding and taping, Mauro decided on a different plan of attack. One where one group immediately follows the first and so on. I think it’s going to work well and it’ll definitely reduce our turnaround time on the house.

“You do good work, Bianco.” I nod at the wall.

He grabs his t-shirt drying the sweat from his face and tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. God, he’s gorgeous. Not a stray hair anywhere on his chest and I can’t help but want to run my tongue over the planes of his rippled abdomen.

“Can I ask you a question?” He takes a sip of his water.

“Sure.”

“Have you hooked up with my brother before?”

“Luca?” My mouth hangs open for a second before I begin laughing. “Absolutely not, no.”

Mauro doesn’t laugh nor does he smile. “Cristian?”

My mood sobers a bit with the realization that he’s serious. “No. Why would you ask me that?”

He tries to shrug it off, but I’m not letting this go. Is this the reason for his earlier anger?

“Mauro?”

“It’s stupid, but he seems almost protective of you when I talk about you to him.” He lifts the hat off his head with one hand and the fingers on his other, thread through his hair. “He’s really worried about me hurting you. When I asked him if I was stepping on his toes, he said no, but I know my brother well enough to know I’m missing something.”

His eyes bore into mine, asking me to clarify his brother’s reaction. My initial reaction is an inward celebration that he’s been talking to his brother about me. It’s all clapping and jumping around and happy times inside. But my head makes its way into the conversation and I know that now is the time. I need to fill in some of the blanks for him.

I pat the table next to me. “It’s time we had that talk.”

He slides up beside me on the table. As embarrassing as this is going to be, he has to know the truth before anything happens between us. His reaction will solidify whether I risk taking a chance on him or not.