The backaches and blood and aching muscles.

At thirty-two, he spent more time in boardrooms and meetings than on a scaffold, but he’d never lost the appreciation, or the satisfaction of swinging his own hammer.

He intended to indulge himself doing just that in Ardmore, in his theater.

He watched the small woman in a faded cap and battered boots, circle around, gesture as the wet concrete slid down the chute. She scrambled over sand and stone, used her shovel to rap the chute and alert the operator to stop, then waded into the muck with the other laborers to shovel and smooth.

Brenna O’Toole, Trevor thought, and was glad he’d followed his instincts there. Hiring her and her father as foremen on the project had been the right course of action. Not just for their building skills, he decided, and they were impressive, but they knew the village and the people in it, kept the job running smooth and the men happy and productive.

Public relations on this sort of project were just as vital as a sturdy foundation.

Yes indeed, they were working out well. His three days in Ardmore had shown him he’d made the right choice with O’Toole and O’Toole.

When Brenna climbed out again, Trevor stepped over, extended a hand to give her a final boost.

“Thanks.” She sliced her shovel into the ground, leaned on it, and despite her filthy boots and faded cap looked like a pixie. Her skin was pure Irish cream, and a few curls of wild red escaped the cap.

“Tim Riley says we won’t have rain for another day or two, and he has a way of being right about such things more than he’s wrong. I think we’ll have the slab set up for you before you have to worry about weather.”

“You made considerable progress before I got here.”

“Sure and once you gave us the high sign there was no reason to wait. We’ll have you a good, solid foundation, Mr. Magee, and on schedule.”

“Trev.”

“Aye, Trev.” She tipped back her cap, then her head so she could meet his eyes. She figured him a good foot higher than her five-two, even wearing her boots. “The men you sent along from America, they’re a fine team.”

“As I handpicked them, I agree.”

She thought his voice faintly aloof, but not unfriendly. “And do you never pick females then?”

He smiled slowly so it seemed humor just moseyed over his face until it reached eyes the color of turf smoke. “I do indeed and as often as possible. Both on and off the job. I’ve put one of my best carpenters on this project. She’ll be here next week.”

“It’s good to know my cousin Brian wasn’t wrong in that area. He said you hired by skill and not gender. It’s a good morning’s work here,” she added, nodding to the site. “That noisy bastard of a truck will be our constant companion for a while yet. Darcy’ll be back from her holiday tomorrow, and I can tell you she’ll bitch our ears off about the din.”