Read Online Labor of Love by Rachel Hawthorne - Free Book Online Page A

mom.”
    â€œHow old are they?” I asked.
    â€œFour and six, I think.”
    â€œI guess they have new dolls now.”
    â€œYeah, but little girls can never have too many, right?”
    I smiled at him, wondering how he knew what I was thinking. “Right. If I bought something for them, would you be able to get it to them?”
    â€œYou could give it to them yourself. When we’re finished, we’ll welcome them home.You’ll get to meet them then.”
    â€œOh, cool.”
    I hadn’t realized we’d be doing that. I went back to work, picking things up. I was carefully placing the remains of a clay jar in the wheelbarrow when I heard, “Smile!”
    I looked up. Jenna snapped a picture and then laughed.
    â€œYou look like someone doing something she shouldn’t,” she said. “Let’s try this again.”
    â€œWhy do you need a picture? I’m all scruffy looking.”
    â€œFor one—my MySpace page. But I also want to send a pic to your mom so she can see you’re hard at work and it’ll calm her worries. So smile.”
    â€œI’m wearing a mask. You can’t even see my mouth.”
    â€œSo smile, anyway.”
    Smiling while picking up trash was kind of like those people who smiled in commercials selling exercise machines. It wasn’t natural. Still, I pulled down my mask, gave a big fake smile, and a huge thumbs-up.
    â€œThat’ll do it,” Jenna said. “I’m going to see what else I can document.”
    She walked away. I pulled up my mask and returned to my task. I was reaching down, wrapping my hands around what looked to be a massive table leg attached to a small section of dining table, when I heard a deep voice I recognized say, “Need help with that?”
    I jerked up, stepped back. My foot landed on an old board that wobbled. I teetered and would have fallen, except strong hands wrapped around my arms, steadying me.
    â€œCareful,” Brady said in a voice that fell between concerned and amused.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked.
    He was wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t read his eyes. Some sort of white powder was sprinkled over his burgundy T-shirt. Maybe that’s his flaw , I thought. Maybe he does drugs.
    And how had he even realized it was me, with all my gear on? Had he noticed me when I’d posed for the camera?
    â€œI told you yesterday. I came to volunteer,” he said.
    â€œBut this site?”
    He shrugged. “It’s where they sent me.”
    â€œSo you’re into snow?” Wasn’t that what they called it? Or was it blow?
    â€œLove snow. Went skiing over spring break.”
    â€œI was referring to the powder.” I pointed to his chest, trying not to remember how nice it had looked last night without a shirt covering it.
    Glancing down, he started dusting off his shirt. “Oh, that. Powdered sugar. We went to Café Du Monde for beignets. Place was packed. It’s the reason we’re late.” He looked up. “You thought it was drugs?”
    I felt so silly. Talking to him through the mask. Looking at him through the goggles. Accusing him of dumb stuff.
    â€œI was teasing.”
    And if you believe that, I have some swampland I could sell you.
    He grinned, like he knew I was out of control, but he was willing to tolerate it.
    â€œYou eaten there yet?” he asked, taking the conversation back to his breakfast.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s a must-do.”
    â€œThey feed us breakfast in the dorm.”
    â€œDoesn’t mean you have to eat there.”
    Why was I discouraging a hot guy from showing interest in me?
    And why was he interested in me?
    Why not?
    I felt like the before-Drew me and the after-Drew me were on the debate team. And doing a pretty lousy job at substantiating arguments.
    â€œAre you staying at the dorm?” I asked. It would be totally weird if he was, that everything—fate, the