“God, you’re good.”
“Haven’t been doing this for decades now without figuring some things out along the way. But, my friend, you owe me.”
“Money?” It wasn’t like him to gamble or ask for a commission.
“A favor.”
“Name it.”
“Don’t let her slip away.”
That pulled him up short. How much had he given away?
Chapter 14
The warm sun beat down on Annabelle’s exposed neck. That’s what she got for wearing her hair in a ponytail in the middle of the day.
Her crew had broken for lunch and she pressed on, trying to make up for the sprinkler pipe debacle last night.
She groaned at the mishap and at the man trying to help, but making another mess of things. “Max,” she whispered his name, feeling it on her still throbbing lips.
“Wicked, wicked man.” Her smile came quick and easy at the memory of the aftermath mud fight and angel making.
Funny how she’d felt more of a woman in those few hours spent with him in her filthy clothes, no makeup, and clunky work boots than she had in ages.
He made her laugh at life and herself.
She spread out the sand, smoothing it in nice long sweeps to even out the resting place where her soon to be delivered ginormous birdbath would sit in all its glory.
Mentally, she went through her checklist on the flowers she’d place around the edge of stone at the base. The garden center order, filled and ready to pick up in the morning, seemed more than enough to complete the job. However, she’d added two rose bushes to plant in a spot nearby as a surprise for the sweet, older couple. A small gift from her for their upcoming fiftieth wedding anniversary.
“Fifty,” she muttered, in awe of the sheer number of years they’d been devoted to each other.
Annabelle had less than five total, but far fewer days with her own husband after Joseph had decided for them that he would enlist. He’d made that choice without consulting her.
It still rankled every time she thought about his highhanded arrogance for their life path. He wanted to serve yes, but he wanted to give her and their baby a steady income, benefits, and later college for him. A future.
“But you robbed us all.” She smashed the rake down. Sand flew up.
It’s only four years, babe. I’ll be out in no time.
“Ha!” Annabelle beat the sand down and then tossed aside the rake in disgust. She looked up, tilted her head from side to side, trying to work the kinks and knots out.
“Joey,” she said, aching for her son. At first he was confused, thinking his dad still worked away from home, and then he’d cry his little heart out, and now he clung to his pretend superhero world, telling her that’s where his daddy was because he was a hero, too.
Just a few days ago, the counselor at his school suggested outside therapy. Her insurance didn’t cover it. “I’ll help you, Joey. I promise, I will.” That’s when she’d gotten the bright idea of finding him a real life male role model after seeing the ad in the paper for the Whitfield’s Sports Bar opening. Jay Whitfield had been one of Joey’s heroes.
At least she’d given him that. The signed football now rested in the case Max had brought over. “Max,” she whispered, emotions warring in her at the thought of him.
Kind. Caring. So amazing with Joey.
“And you, Annabelle.” She licked her lips, certain she still tasted him there. Her body hummed at a different, higher vibration, aware and tingly, now.
The ring from the front seat of her truck yanked her out of her troubled thoughts. “Thank you for small favors, whoever you are.”
Racing to the vehicle, she hoped they wouldn’t give up on her answering. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name on the caller ID. “Gigi. Everything all right?” In other words, is Joey okay?
“Sweetie, you’ve got to get to King’s real quick.”
“You need a ride?” Did she go shopping? Or was this a callback from her interview?
“No, nothing like that. They called the company phone. Bring your measuring tape and all that jazz. They want a quote.”
“On what? Flowers?” Her memory didn’t recall there being a place for anything outdoors.
“Rooftop. Garden. Water fountain. Outdoor events.” She kept ticking off items and making Annabelle’s head spin.
“Whoa! Me? But how?” She gulped hard, calculating the cost as Gigi spoke. This was big! Like, able to pay the bucks for Joey’s therapy, big!
“Don’t know. Maybe I slipped it in at the interview. Not sure. But you have to meet with them today. Less than an hour.”
“What?!” She glanced down at herself. Dust and dirt clung to her and her boots had seen much better days. “I have to change.”
“No time. There’s two other companies they’ve talked to. You know those sorry sons of guns that try to undercut you? Them. You have to beat them.”
“Breathe,” she said between pants.
“I am.”
“No, Gigi, I’m talking to myself.” Her heart pounded and she swore she saw stars. She blinked as a drop of sweat rolled into her eye. “Okay. Now, can you call the guys? They’re at lunch. Tell them they have to come back and finish up the grading, wait for the crane guy, and set the bird bath. Any questions?”
“Got it. Go. Hugs and kisses. Luck.”
That last word rang in Annabelle’s head as she floored it to King’s. “Luck,” she mumbled. It was the last word she and Joseph had said to each other, a kind of talisman to keep the bad stuff away.
It didn’t work then.
She prayed it worked now.
Please. For Joey.
***
If Annabelle could have slunk away or off the rooftop, she would have. Dressed in dusty jeans and a plain buttoned-down shirt and dried muddy boots, she stood out like a sore thumb.
The Premiere Landscapes owner, in pressed khakis and matching shirt, looked like he’d stepped out of a safari ad. All he needed was that funny upside down bowl-shaped hat to complete the look.
He shot her a smirk, tapping his pen on his leg.
The woman from the other company, Fountain Of Youth Landscapes, wore simple white slacks, low heels, and a fluttery blue blouse. Annabelle kinda liked that look and had to hand it to the woman for looking cool and chic at the same time. She shot Annabelle a sympathy glance.
Something deep down began to boil. I’m not down and out yet.
She was good at what she did. Better than most, not as great as the really big landscape companies, but she worked hard and turned in a stellar job each and every time. Her company could go toe-to-toe with theirs any day.
Going about her business, Annabelle whipped out her trusty metal measuring tape, jotted down the numbers and continued to scope out the impressive space. On her pad, she scribbled ideas and configurations and hastily sketched an arrangement.
The silence stretched as they waited for one of the executives to show. They’d been escorted by an employee, perfuse with apologies on the delay. Another last-minute call for the new wedding wing had sidetracked the boss.
The door burst open and a rather tall, broad man in an expensive suit walked out.
Annabelle stood at attention, as did her counterparts.
He nodded to each of them. “Griffin James.” He held out his hand and the other two quickly shook it in turn.
Annabelle swiped hers down over her hip, hoping to remove some of the sweat and dirt. With more confidence than she was feeling, Annabelle thrust out her hand. To his credit, he didn’t wince or avoid the brief, firm contact. “Mr. James.”
“O’Connor of Mermaid Landscapes and Waterworks. Sorry for the hold up. We’ll be joined by the owner in a moment.”
“If I could just have a word with you, sir. Alone.” The fluttery blue-bloused lady seemed to bat her eyes and play coy.
“No.”
A chuckle rumbled through Annabelle, and she couldn’t suppress it from erupting. He shot her a look and a ra
ised eyebrow.
The woman swallowed her gasp, clearly not used to be turned down.
“James, ol’ boy. It’s rather nice weather, isn’t it?” The safari guy chortled.
“It’s Mr. James.” He turned to Annabelle.
She held up her hands, clutching the pad in one, saying, “I got nothing.”
His lip twitched, making him almost human.
The sudden sound of the metal bar on the door thrust open pulled their attention to the new arrival.
“Boss 3, there you are! Pickles and pancakes, I thought I lost you!” the tall blonde woman cried, rushing toward them on high heels.
“It’s very difficult to misplace me, Peg.”
“Peg? Like in the bathroom at Whitfield’s Sports Bar the other night Peg?” Annabelle asked, recalling the lady clutching the clipboard from that night and when she’d come to get Gigi for her interview.
“Hey, I know you.” She swooped in and gave her a crushing hug. Backing away, she said, “This isn’t your look, either. Wet mud. Dry dirt. No way Jose.”
“Not my week for dress-up,” Annabelle said, brushing back a stray strand of hair and getting a snort in return.
“I’ll say.” Turning to Griffin, she said, “Boss 1 on the way. Pit stop.”
“Right behind you, Peg.” The pretty brunette from the grand opening appeared. She spotted Annabelle immediately. “You’re one of the contractors? Small world.” She pressed a hand to her upper arm in greeting and nodded to the other two.
“You know her?” the blue blouse lady asked. “This isn’t a fair playing field.”
This time Annabelle snorted. As if!
“King’s prides itself on quality and fairness,” Griffin said. “If you have a problem with that, then we don’t need to do business with your company.”
Her audible gulp rent the still air.
“Okay then.” Peg jabbed his arm. “Lighten up, will ya? Geez Louise, you get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”
“Peg.” His voice held a warning.
“Joke.” She shook her head. “Boss 1, got anything here?”
“I’m Charlotte King Royale. You can call me Charlie. Now, Peg has assured us that your companies are the best in Dallas. All of you come highly recommended.”
“She’s such a sweet talker,” Peg chimed in. Pointing a thumb at Griffin, she said, “Him, not so much.”
Annabelle covered her mouth and turned away.
“O’Connor, you’re up first,” Griffin said.
Crud! “It’s Annabelle, by the way,” she shot back, now facing him. There, he’d definitely grinned. Well, sorta. “I understand you want to use this for private weddings, special events, perhaps host cocktail parties for clients.”
“Can’t forget the music,” Peg added. She held up her hand to her mouth and leaned toward Annabelle. “Hubby is a rock star. Literally. Austin Rhoades.”
Who? Annabelle had little time for fun stuff since taking on the main breadwinner single mom role.
Peg waved a hand in front of her face. “You’re clueless, right? Holy moly me! That’s a good one.”
“I love his songs,” Miss Blue Blouse piped up.
“Ah, me, too. Catchy tunes,” safari dude added, clearly having no idea.
“Back to business,” Griffin said.
“Feature large water fountain here,” Annabelle continued, making a circle hand gesture where they stood. “My specialty. Benches along the perimeter will take up less space for seating and fit more people. Small, intimate bar. New entrance. Double door carved with the King’s name and logo and anything else you want. I know a guy… If you go big, I suggest two glassed-in high ceiling dome enclosures topping the ends of the main buildings, similar to a castle turret slash greenhouse to blend in with this roof garden look. They will come in handy if there’s bad weather and you can’t use this exposed area. Elevator to meet the code regs. Wheelchair accessible. Small tables. Flowers, twinkly lights…”
“That’s my idea,” Miss Blue Blouse said. “She stole it.”
“Did not,” Annabelle hissed.
“I was here first. No matter what she bids. I’ll bid lower by two grand.”
“Make it three.” The guy in the safari outfit mopped his face with a snowy white handkerchief.
Underbid again! One of them was going to win this one. But she put her two cents in anyway. “And I will give you the best material and craftsmanship.” Annabelle scribbled a price, fair and decent, but not lowball, on the piece of paper she’d drawn the sketch on with her name and number and handed it over to Griffin.
Slowly, he took it and looked at the circled number. He folded it and tucked it in the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
“Okay, people, I’m out of here. I’ve got a job to finish. Peg, Charlie, nice seeing you two again. Griffin.” She nodded and then turned to her competition. “See you at the next one, folks.”
Annabelle walked away from the biggest prospective job she’d had in three long months.
Joey’s counseling money down the drain.
Flush! Yep, there’s goes her bank account. Again.
Chapter 15
Clumping through the elegant King’s Department Store on her way out, Annabelle avoided the horrified looks of more than a dozen equally well-heeled women.
She thrust her chin a little higher, knowing she had nothing to be ashamed of. A hard day’s work didn’t reduce her to a nothing.
Someone had to pay the bills in her house and they were looking at her.
Forcing a smile, she sailed down the escalator and smack into Max. “What the hey?” She bounced off his solid chest and rubbed her forehead where she was certain a dent remained left behind.
“Irish?” He held her by the upper arms, steadying her. “What? How? Ah, never mind. You all right?”
“Nothing that a couple of aspirins and an ice pack won’t cure. Maybe you are the man of steel after all.” The moment she said it, she regretted the words. Joey worshiped Superman and she had no desire to link Max in that category.
“Clark Kent?” He shook his head. “No glasses. Or hat.”
She heard the murmurs behind her and scooted out of the way. He followed. “Can’t shake you, can I?”
“I’m picking up Danny.” He glanced at his watch. “Shift ends in five. You?”
Shrugging, she said, “Dead end job opp.”
“It didn’t work out?” He frowned.
“Excuse me,” an older woman said, flicking a glance over Annabelle and trying to get around them.
“Why, did you do something?” Max asked. He smirked.
Annabelle giggled. She jabbed him in the arm. “Good one. Don’t you dare tell Joey I said that.”
“Ah, that means I get to see him again.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m touched.”
She gulped hard. Her son did smile more when Max stopped by. But he didn’t need a Super Max any more than she did. Yeah, keep telling yourself a bunch of lies, O’Connor. Warning, remember you don’t trust anyone, especially men.
“Speechless?” he asked, but she sensed the hurt in his eyes. Eyes she couldn’t look away from.
“It’s complicated, Max,” she whispered as she dropped her gaze to his firm lips. The memory of that wild, wicked kiss plunged through her and around her. Her knees wobbled. Inward groan!
“Friends then.”
“Us? Friends?!” Her voice went up an octave.
“Is that so hard to fathom?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?” she shot back.
“Do you?”
“Guys, guys,” Danny said, coming up beside them. “Have some decorum, will you? I work here. I have a rep to uphold.”
Annabelle jerked backward, not realizing she’d been standing so close to Max. Heat crawled up her neck. “Danny. Got any of those rolly pollie things?”
“Ha, you’re funny. Nope. But I can get you some. Inside connections.”
“Give me your n
umber. I’m going to put you on speed dial.”
“She’s a keeper, Max.” Danny scrunched up the side of his face and winked at his brother.
“Big kudos, Irish. You passed the Danny test.” Max’s voice was low and husky.
And yours? No, she’d stay away from that hot topic, thank you very much.
“Paging Anna Bananabelle!” Peg called from the top of the escalator.
Twisting around, Annabelle saw the woman clutching her handy clipboard to her side and hopping on the downward human slide. “Peg?”
“Funions and fiddlesticks, I tried calling you a gazillion times already.” She landed and kept moving her feet, race walking toward her. “Max, cutie pie. Danny. Out of breath!”
“Slow and easy, Peg,” Max coached.
“Thanks, pal. Got it. Phew! Okeydokey.” She shoved a slip of paper to Annabelle. “Congrats! You got the job. Won over Griff. Magic, I tell you.”
“What? Me? But they underbid.”
“Not so much the moola, but the attitude. Boss 1 and Boss 3. Impressed. Big time.”
“You won, Irish. That’s great!” Max beamed.
“What did she win?” Danny asked.
“The rooftop job…” He trailed off.
A sliver of cold dread wormed its way around her ribs, squeezing tight. “You put them up to it.” It wasn’t a question. He’d fixed this in her favor? Why had she let her guard down with him? A slow, low burn began to grow. She didn’t need someone controlling her fate. Or her life. Again. Been there. Done that. Got the messed up heart and wound marks to prove it.
“Recommendation.” He threw up his hands, defending his actions. “That’s all.”
Peg smacked her in the arm. “It was your sparkling personality, kiddo.”
“Merit,” Max corrected. “Not so big on the look right now, Irish.”
Why? Did he see steam coming out of her ears?
***
Max still felt the glare she’d pinned him with hours ago. There was one way and one way only he could make it up to her. He rang the doorbell.
The door burst open.
Yep, nothing but space. Looking over the top of the pink bakery box and downward, he saw the little guy. “Joey, how are you doing?”
once upon a romance 08 - making a splash Page 9
