Chapter Five
Luke was drenched in sweat.
What on earth had made him think hand-sanding the rooms was a better idea than buying a power sander?
You’re not earning a wage any more, Cahill. Besides, you spent hours boasting to Milly the other day about how cathartic and wonderful a bit of honest labor and sweat was. It’s not all charming the ladies and preening for the money-shot.
Luke wiped his arm across his brow and wondered if he’d lose more weight from the heat than build muscles from the exercise.
Fuck not earning a wage, he thought grimly. I’m not broke and my disability pay mightn’t be a livable wage, but it’s not peanuts either. I can afford a power sander to save time, if not my arms.
He pulled a pencil from one of the many pockets of his work overalls along with a tiny spiral
