by Janet Eaves
Driving away a couple of minutes later, she smiled, remembering her threat about the rifle. Wouldn’t be a bad thing for Mr. Andrews to reflect on that possibility from time to time. She wasn’t at all sure of him. Except for one thing—he started his day early. The clock on her radio told her it was now twenty minutes after five.
****
“It’ll be fine,” said Betsy McClain softly as she walked down the street holding her young daughter’s hand. “You’ll see. They’ll bluster about it at first, but with LizBeth Ann there, they won’t say much. All the guys are in love with her.”
Chloe hated the fact that she was hesitant to enter her own building alone with the crew there working. She was hiding behind Betsy and LizBeth Ann, and that fact rankled like crazy. Not that she minded talking to any of the guys. She knew them all. Had dated one of them in high school, and another was her brother Robert’s best friend. Their boss’s rotten attitude was changing her way of dealing with people, and she didn’t like it one bit.
“You know, Betsy, this is silly. I can go in there. It’s my building, and basically they’re working for me.”
“Chill out, Chloe. You’re not used to relying on anybody but yourself, and this has you feeling awkward. You don’t really need LizBeth Ann and me to run interference for you, but we’re glad to do it.”
LizBeth Ann looked up at her mother, her blue eyes sparkling. “I run, Mommy?”
Betsy looked down at the beautiful child. “Hm. Not just yet, sweetie. Later, in the park, you can run all over the place. Right now, you and I are doing a different kind of running for Chloe. Okay?”
Blonde brows furrowed. “I not run?”
“Oh, sweetie, life’s complicated, isn’t it? We’ll run at the park. In just a few minutes.” Betsy gave her daughter a brilliant smile, which seemed to appease the tiny girl. She looked up then and met Chloe’s gaze.
“I run in the park. Fast!”
“I bet you will, punkin.” Chloe squeezed her hand a bit. “We’ll go in and talk to your daddy and his friends for a minute. Did you see my big new building?”
“I didn’t seed it. But my daddy says it’s a zaster.”
“It’s a—what?”
Betsy cringed. “Sorry about that, Chloe. Um, I think Mike was a little exhausted when he was talking about the job. The day they finished tearing out the walls and ceiling on the main floor, he said—uh—he said it’s—”
“A zaster.” LizBeth Ann nodded her head solemnly, the movement of her golden blonde curls emphasizing the statement.
Disaster. “Oh. I see.” And that was from her own cousin.
“Renovation projects are like that, Chloe. You should have seen Charles and Dorothy’s library when Mike was just starting on it.”
“A big mess. Daddy maked a big mess! But he cleaned it up. It’s okay, Chloe. My daddy cleans up his messes real good.”
“He does at that.” Chloe remembered the mess Mike had made of his marriage to Betsy. In fact, it had been such a mess that Betsy had taken the infant LizBeth Ann away from Mike and away from Legend. Thank God Dorothy McClain had found a way to get Betsy and LizBeth Ann back to Legend—’temporarily.’ It had been just a matter of time before nature and love had taken over.
Still, with the talk of disasters and messes, Chloe wondered what would greet her when she stepped into her building today.
Well, at least there was no reason to be cautious about opening the door. It wasn’t closed. In fact, it was off its hinges, and lying on its side at the edge of the sidewalk, leaned up against the brick building. Anyone in Legend who was interested could easily see how the gallery project was going. To be succinct, it was a mess. Even a zaster.
The sound of hammers, saws, and the colorful vocabulary of the men who wielded them was nearly deafening. The place smelled of fresh lumber, tinged with the odor of a hot blade zipping through wood. The floor was plain plywood; the walls were just studs. A new drywall ceiling was in place, though, high above. Chloe sighed. She loved the high ceilings of this place. That was one thing about old buildings that made them such wonderful gallery spaces. Mike was using a crowbar on a front window, but seeing them, set aside the heavy tool and strolled over.
“Hey.” He leaned down and gave Betsy a long, lingering kiss, then knelt and placed a noisy smooch on his daughter’s cheek.
“Daddy! You get me dirty!”
“Trying not to, Princess. I am dirty, though. Sweaty, too.” He smiled wanly at Chloe. “Hey there, Boss Lady. This place sure gets warm when you’re workin’ your butt off.”
“Hey Mike. I can see you’ve been working hard, but thanks for pointing out the obvious.”
He winked. “No problem. So. What do you think of the place?”
“I telled her it’s a zaster,” LizBeth Ann said helpfully.
Mike had the grace to blush a little. “Did you now? Well, not as much of a zaster as it was a few days ago. I think it’s coming along pretty well.” He tapped his foot. “We’ve got a floor with no holes or even a sag. You could play marbles on this thing. The ash planks are on order.” He pointed upward. “New ceiling is primo and just needs some paint. Some of the windows arrived this morning, so we’re getting these old ones out. Dave’s pulled all the old wiring. Rewiring will be a major job. And the plumbing all had to go. So it’s not like we’re almost done, but we’re making good progress.”
“Gee. You’re not almost done yet? It’s been over a week.” Chloe smiled and relaxed, glad for Mike’s summary. He understood construction, so if he thought it was going well, that meant a lot.
“Mike! You ready for those windows yet?” The grating voice of Greg Andrews was closely followed by the man himself stomping down the stairs from what would eventually be her living quarters.
“No, man. Not yet. Just a couple minutes and I think this one’ll be out, though. We have company.” Mike gestured down at LizBeth Ann, who was staring at Greg.
“Oh. Yeah. Hey, LizBeth Ann. How are you doin’?”
“Good,” she answered softly.
He raised his eyes to Mike’s wife’s. “Betsy.”
“Greg.”
“Miz McClain.” A glare accompanied his cold tone.
“Mr. Andrews.”
“Dropping in to see how you’re spending your money?”
“Something like that.”
“Questions? Comments?”
Was he daring her? Fine. “Are you on track to complete the project by the date we agreed upon?”
“So far so good. As long as the materials arrive when we need them, we should be okay. The guys don’t mind working crazy long hours to satisfy the whims of an artist. Do you, guys?”
Chloe hadn’t realized that the sounds of men and tools had stopped sometime during the awkward conversation. The guys stood where they’d been working, watching their boss try to stare her down.
In answer to his question, there was a general muttering from the guys. Some of them shook their heads no.
Chloe took what she hoped was an obvious and exaggerated inventory of Andrews. From the top of his blonde head to his piercing green eyes, the strong almost chiseled features of his overly handsome face, taking in his broad shoulders encased in a faded blue chambray shirt that was sweat-stained, un-tucked, and unbuttoned. His chest and abdomen glistened with sweat, emphasizing the musculature that had been built not in a gym, but with plain hard work. The bleached-out, worn-out jeans molded to his body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. The tour ended with scuffed brown work boots. The appraisal, instead of making her feel in charge of the situation, made Chloe breathless. The man was obnoxious, but that sure didn’t keep him from being delicious looking. Despite a fear of what she might give away, she swept her gaze quickly back up to those green eyes.
“So.” She gestured at his open shirt. “Are you trying to be Samson or something?”
“Samson, huh? Hadn’t really thought about it.” He shook his head, throwing the blonde braid back over his
shoulder. He pinned her with a glare—but a different kind this time. This one looked hot. Was he aware of her physical reaction to him? “You know what, Miz McClain? Maybe Samson was trying to be like me.” He shrugged. “Poor guy. You know where he went wrong, don’t you?”
Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “When he developed a huge ego?”
“No. When he listened to a woman.”
“Ah. I’m sure you’ll never make that mistake.”
“Not likely.”
“Except when the woman is paying the bills.”
“Hey. I never said women were totally useless.” He leered. “In fact—”
“Hey!” Betsy said loudly, a fake smile plastered onto her face. “I think now is a really good time for us to go to the park.”
“Yay!” LizBeth Ann dragged her eyes from Andrews and Chloe, and clapped.
“Absolutely yay,” Betsy repeated, sighing and sending Chloe a warning glance. She started walking, and her daughter trotted to keep up. At the open doorway, she paused. “You coming, Chloe?”
“Not just yet, thanks Betsy. I’ll hang with the guys for a while. See how things are going. Make sure Samson doesn’t decide to pull the building down out of pure spite. That kind of thing.” She waggled her fingers at LizBeth Ann. “See you later, punkin!”
“See you!”
Their exit left a void. Chloe could hear her heart beating in the hush.
“Miz McClain. You and I need to talk.”
“I thought we were talking.”
“In private.” Though it seemed Greg Andrews was always frowning, she’d never seen such a vicious look in his eye.
“And we can speak privately where?” The main floor of the building was one large open room, with a bathroom and storage room merely framed up in the back. The second floor was probably no closer to completion.
“In my office.” He strode out the doorway, buttoning his shirt as he went. Chloe looked at Mike, who grimaced.
“Probably should, Chloe. Just get some ground rules set.”
She turned on her heel and stalked outside. Ground rules. Like organizing a fight. Which unfortunately this has been from the first moment.
A few minutes later Chloe opened the door to Deluxe Home Improvements. She had seen the storefront hundreds of times, but had never been inside since Greg Andrews bought it and made the place his business headquarters. It certainly didn’t speak well of his abilities as a carpenter, businessman, or housekeeper. The place was a dump. The paint on the plaster walls was chipped, the furniture was cheap and ugly, and it smelled as if the coffee pot had been left on for days.
“Have a seat.”
She looked at a spindly wooden chair and a worn couch with what appeared to be plastic-covered cushions in a particularly hideous shade of green. “I’ll stand.”
“Whatever.” Greg grabbed the coffee pot and left the room briefly to dump its contents and rinse, then refill it with water. In a couple of minutes, a fresh pot was brewing, but to Chloe it already smelled burned. Cheap coffee, dirty burner, or both?
Greg sat in the old desk chair and leaned it onto its back legs. One hand played with a big sprung paper clip on the paper-strewn desktop.
“So, Miz McClain. What exactly is your problem? Are you bored and decided to make my almost-impossible job more difficult? Or are you just not getting any?”
Chloe felt her face burn. How she wished he had been standing in front of her when he asked that question. She would have automatically smacked his face, and it wouldn’t really have been her fault. Since he was sitting on the other side of the desk, and it would be terribly awkward to smack him…
She took a steadying breath. “That ludicrous question doesn’t deserve a reply. My only concern is that the building is completed on time to my specifications.”
“Well. I know that’s a priority for you, but I also have to wonder about the other, because—”
“You have no reason at all to wonder anything about me. Our relationship doesn’t require that we like each other, or that either of us knows or cares about the other one’s personal life.”
He pulled the curves of the paper clip out straight in one fluid motion. “Does our relationship require that you try to make me look like a fool in front of my crew?”
“I…” She had, hadn’t she?
“I’m the boss, and I need a certain amount of respect from my guys. You come in there—somebody they know and like—and pick a fight with me. And for God’s sake, you’re Mike’s cousin—no way are the guys going to feel like they can side with me. Do you think that’s fair? To them or to me? How do you expect that to affect the work environment?”
“I’m sorry.” It hurt like fire to say so. “I hadn’t thought about that. I swear—it’s your fault for being so damned obnoxious. For treating me like an idiot. What’s your problem with women, Mr. Andrews? Don’t you realize we have brains? And opinions?” She held up her hand because he opened his mouth to blurt out something she knew she didn’t want to hear. “I’ll make a compromise with you. I don’t care what you think of me. But if you treat me as an equal, at least in front of the crew, I’ll watch my mouth too. Believe it or not, I usually have lovely manners.” She looked around behind her, and perched on the edge of the wooden chair.
Chloe McClain seemed determined to make his life a living hell, right through the end of summer. There she sat on the edge of his chair, looking afraid she might pick up cooties from it. He had no doubt that she usually had lovely manners. His only doubt was that she would ever let go of her innate dislike for him and just let him work. It wasn’t as if he’d wanted this project. He’d been trapped into it, after all, by the politics of small town life. Well, he was doing the job. Everything would be fine if she would just stay out of his way.
Not likely, though. It was her building after all. She deserved to look at the job as often as she wanted to. She was the customer, and the customer was always—yeah, that stupid saying again.
“Okay,” he said. “We can both try to shut up when we’re around each other. Being nice might be expecting too much, seeing as how ever since we met we’ve been on each other’s cases. How about you come in and ask Mike any questions. If I know you’re there, I’ll try to stay in another part of the building. It’s not that big a place, though. We’re going to meet at times.”
“I can pretend to like you—for short periods of time—if you can do the same.”
“I don’t know. How about we just pretend to tolerate each other?”
She nodded. “That’s a start.” And probably more realistic.
Greg went to the coffee pot and poured a large mug full, then took a long swig. Remembering what they’d just said, he reached for the plastic bag of Styrofoam cups. “So we’ve got a deal. You want to drink on it?”
Chloe McClain wrinkled that damn cute nose of hers and shook her head. “Let’s not get carried away.”
She walked out of his office, her sweet little butt swaying. Greg took another long draw of coffee and swallowed hard. No. Let’s not get carried away.
Chapter Four
“Hey. Calm down, Chloe.”
Chloe paced back and forth in front of the long coffee bar in Midnight Shelby McClain’s Emporium. Midnight, the wife of Chloe’s brother Martin, was also Chloe’s good friend, encourager, and confidante.
“He just makes me so angry! You’d almost think he likes making me angry.”
Midnight smiled. “Who knows? Maybe he does. I don’t know Greg very well. He and Martin go fishing once in a while, but he’s not terribly sociable.”
“That’s not a surprise. He’s an unpleasant man. Every time I see him, he says something to put me down. I think he hates women, except in bed. He practically said as much, right in front of everybody—including LizBeth Ann!”
“Did he now?” Midnight leaned an elbow onto the polished wood bar top, cupped her chin into her hand. What kind of smile was that anyway?
Chloe resumed her pacing. “I
’m so stressed, I’m barely functional. I sure don’t have time to deal with a prima donna of a carpenter.”
“Of course not.”
Chloe spun around, facing her friend. “I have my work! So much to finish before the show.”
“You’ve been staying busy.”
“Yes. Work is pretty much my whole life right now.”
“You wish it weren’t?” Midnight’s diamond-and-emerald ring caught the light as she lightly ran her fingers along the bar top.
“No. I love my life. Mostly.” She sighed. “Sure, sometimes I get a little lonely. Even being a McClain, occasionally it’s awkward when you’re a single instead of half of a couple. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
“I imagine you’re used to it. Maybe not quite satisfied with it.”
“I guess. Of course there’s nobody in town I’m interested in. Or the other way around, for that matter.”
“Well, Legend is getting some new people now.”
“Mostly families.”
“Mostly.” Midnight’s black eyes held Chloe’s. “Then again, there’s that handsome blonde contractor… Pretty rough around the edges, but maybe there’s an interesting person underneath.”
“Not sure I’m brave enough to find out.”
“You’re one of the bravest people I know, Chloe.” Midnight topped off Chloe’s coffee. “Not many women have gone after their dreams with more energy than you have. You’re an inspiration to a lot of the teenage girls in Legend.”
“I am?”
“Sure. You’re doing work you love, and making a living at it. Plus looking good at the same time.” Midnight winked. “What’s not inspirational about that?”
“You’re great for my ego.” And right now Chloe’s ego needed all the boosting it could get.
“Just telling you the truth. You’re an amazing woman. Don’t let Greg get under your skin so much. Unless there’s a better reason for it, like you’re interested in him.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay. Just saying.”
“And he’s not interested in me.”
“You’re sure of that?”
