I liked working with her. She was bright and creative. She had a way of studying a room, or a drawing, and then with a few strokes of her hands, transforming a plain space into something beautiful. She could take the darkest spot and bring light into it. Change the feel and composition of an area with color and material. Her visions were incredible. She was patient and quiet—and a good listener. Clients loved her. Bentley trusted her completely, always accepting her vision of any project without question. We were lucky to have her at BAM. Her staff thought highly of her, and she treated them well. Level-headed and tolerant, she treated everyone around her with courtesy and respect. We had a great working relationship, one of mutual admiration. Our interactions were easy and filled with humor.
Yet lately, I had been wanting something different. I wanted to get to know her. Delve into the private person behind the loose clothing, extraordinary eyes, and brilliant mind and find Liv. It was an odd sensation—one I had never thought I would experience again. Something I wasn’t sure I should allow myself to attempt. Yet, the feeling persisted. There was something about her that drew me to her, and it had only grown in the months I had known her, no matter how I tried to fight it—or deny it. Maybe I was tired of fighting it. Or maybe I was finally ready to try again. All I knew was that for the first time in years, I wanted something more. I wanted her. She was sweet, intelligent, and articulate. Sexy as hell with an understated beauty I found intriguing. It was a wicked combination.
In the bathroom mirror, I studied my face. I looked tired, the lines around my eyes more prominent than usual. The long scar across my shoulder and arm was puckered and twisted—a reminder of why getting close to someone wasn’t a good idea. I scrubbed at my face, too exhausted to bother trying to shave, and stepped into the shower, adjusting the water as hot as I could stand it, hoping another shower would help dispel the aches. Bracing my arms against the tile, I rolled my shoulders, letting the heat soak in and loosen my muscles. I stood there until the water became tepid, then quickly washed and shut off the tap. The room was steamy, the condensation running down the glass, endless rivulets of water going nowhere.
Sort of like my life.
Too restless to stay home, I went into the office. As usual this early on a Saturday, Toronto was quieter, traffic thinner, and I arrived quickly. I parked my truck by the loading dock, somehow not surprised to see Jordan’s SUV parked in its spot. Grateful the café in the building opened early, even on a Saturday, I went directly there, grabbing coffee and a box of the pastries we devoured on a regular basis. Rhonda, the owner, grinned at me as she handed me the box.
“Fueling up for a busy day, Van?”
“They’re not all for me.” I winked.
Her husband, Bob, chuckled as he passed me the tray with four coffees. “And these aren’t all yours?”
“Jordan’s around somewhere. I’m sure some of the crew will wander in, and I never know when Aiden is going to show up.”
Rhonda laughed, tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear. “That man and his lemon Danish. I put three in the box in case.”
I slid the coffee tray on top of the box of pastries. “Thanks, Rhonda.”
“Anytime.”
I cut through the back of the hall, using my pass to get through the door that led to the private part of the BAM building. In our office, Jordan had his head bent over a stack of paperwork, the pile of completed documents beside him as large as the one he was currently working on. I hated paperwork, but Jordan excelled at it, making sure we were covered for permits, licenses, agreements, anything we needed to complete a job and stay on track. He handled it all with his exacting attention to detail and calm attitude.
“You look like you need this as much as I do.” I interrupted him.
He glanced up, his green eyes tired behind his glasses. But his smile was warm and approachable, and he greeted me with his usual affability.
“You are a life-saver.”
I handed him a coffee and popped open the box of pastries. He took a cherry Danish and bit into it with a groan. “Manna from heaven.”
I snagged a lemon, my favorite as well as Aiden’s, and chewed the fresh, sweet pastry with appreciation. I sat at my desk, sipped my coffee, and ate two pastries.
“What you are working on?”
“More Ridge Towers. Phase Two. Plus going over the new plans for Ridge Estates.” He chuckled and finished his Danish, wiping his mouth. “The boys are keeping me busy.”
“They always do.”
He sorted through his pile of folders and handed me a gray-colored stack. Every person had their own color. “These are yours for the next few flips you’ll be working on. Everything is in order.”
I took the files. “Awesome.”
“I haven’t had a chance to delve into Bentley’s new acquisition.”
“The deserted cabin?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “Only Bentley.”
“Exactly what I said.”
He picked up his pen, laughing. “Great job security.”
I turned to my desk, flipping open the first file. “That it is.”
I worked for the next while, sorting and listing the projects, making notes and entering information into my laptop and adding it to my calendar. Despite my teasing with Liv, I did use the technology to my advantage for work. I still preferred my handwritten notes, but only I saw those. My crew and Jordan could access the details when needed on the shared drive. Jordan worked for another hour, then left, although he grabbed a croissant before heading out.
Sitting in the corner at the drafting table, I studied the plan for a house BAM had recently purchased. It was in a great area, large and well built, but it’d had nothing done to it in years. The rooms were small and chopped up, and Liv wanted to open walls and move rooms, switching the kitchen to the other end of the house, adding a sunroom, and master bedroom on the main floor, as well as more changes to the second story. It would be a massive renovation, and although the end result would be stunning, it was my job to determine if the changes could happen, and if, cost-wise, they were a good investment. I liked seeing Liv’s designs and her notes and ideas, then making them a reality. She was intelligent and knowledgeable and rarely asked for impossible tasks. She understood load-bearing walls and structure, and her designs were always sympathetic to the limits we had to work within.
This time, however, her requests were long and complex. I began my list, room by room, of the changes she wanted, jotting notes and foreseeable problems.
A noise caught my attention, and I sat up, looking around, shocked to see I had been hunched over the table for two hours, engrossed in the plans in front of me. I heard the noise again, recognizing Liv’s voice and the high-pitched reply of a child. Sliding from my chair, I crossed the office, glancing down the hall. Listening, I heard Liv’s soft-toned voice.
“Soon, Sammy. Mommy needs to do a little more work.”
“I’m bored!”
“I know, baby. Why don’t you draw Mommy another picture?”
“I already drawed you three. Why can’t I go stay with Grammie?”
“Grammie isn’t feeling well today, Sammy. Mommy has to get this work done, and I have to do it here. I’ll be done soon, and we can go to the park.”
“Can I have ice cream?”
“May I,” Liv corrected gently. “Remember your manners, Samantha.”
“May I have ice cream, please?”
“Yes. Be good for Mommy and let her work for a while, then we’ll go to the park and get ice cream.”
“Okay.”
I walked down the hall and leaned on the doorframe, studying the picture in front of me. Liv was at her desk, surrounded by drawing pads and sketches. Sammy was stretched out on the floor, dolls and papers scattered everywhere. They had obviously been here a while, but I had been so absorbed, I never heard them. Liv was in a sweatshirt, long and dark, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was down today—something I rarely saw. It fell i
n long waves over her shoulders and down her back, the light catching the golden glints, making it shine. Her fingers were covered in dabs of color as she worked on a design, bringing it to life.
Sammy’s head was bent over a piece of paper, her hair the same shade as her mothers, except it was curly and wild, moving freely as she concentrated on her drawing.
Sammy noticed me first. She sprang to her feet, looking excited. “Hi!”
Liv looked up. Her beautiful eyes were round and startled, but she smiled when she saw it was me. “Hey, Van. I didn’t know you were here. Your door wasn’t open.”
I had pushed it shut for privacy after Jordan left. Often if a crew member dropped in, I lost hours of work as they chatted. I had wanted to concentrate.
“Liv. I was so busy I only now realized you were here.”
Sammy hurried to the door. “Hi. I’m Sammy.”
I hunched down, taking her tiny hand in mine. “Hi, Sammy. We met a long time ago. You’ve grown so much, I hardly knew it was you.”
She grinned wide. “I remember you. You’re Mr. Van. You work with my mommy and build stuff!”
I laughed. “That’s me.”
She edged closer. “I want a new shelf for my dolls. Could you build that?”
“Sammy!” Liv admonished.
I shook my head, holding up my hand. “It’s fine, Liv.” I addressed Sammy. “What kind of shelf do you want?”
She held her arms wide. “A big one!”
“You must have lots of dolls.”
“Books too.”
“Ah—books are good.”
Her responding nod was fast, making her curls swirl around her chubby cheeks. Aside from her dark eyes, she looked exactly like Liv, right down to the row of freckles across her nose. She was an enchanting child.
“Mommy reads to me every night.” Her eyes became round. “Do you like to read, Mr. Van?”
“Yep.”
“Mommy is teaching me. I can read a lot too, but I like it when she reads to me.” She leaned forward, her voice becoming secretive. “Grammie reads to me too, but she talks too fast and she doesn’t do the voices. Mommy does funny voices. I like them.”
I met Liv’s glance over Sammy’s head. She was watching us with a look of patience and exasperation. I grinned and threw her a wink to let her know it was all good.
“I bet she does.”
I stood, smiling down at Sammy. Her head tilted back on her neck as she peered up at me.
“Are you a giant?”
“Sammy!” Liv groaned.
“He’s taller than anyone I ever met, Mommy! You said the only way I would learn stuff was to ask questions.”
I waved my hand, chuckling at her response “It’s fine, Liv. No, Sammy, I’m not a giant.” I studied Sammy. “Although, you’re so tiny, you could be a mouse.”
A grin split her face, showing a small gap in her teeth. “I’m a girl, not a mouse.”
I stroked my chin. “Nope. I think you’re a mouse.”
She giggled.
I glanced at Liv, noting the fact that she looked tired. The need to help her in some small way was suddenly paramount. “How about I take this little mouse to my office and we can plan out her bookshelf while you work?”
Liv began to shake her head, but Sammy clapped her hands. “Oh, yes! Please, Mommy? I’ll be so good for Mr. Van!”
“You don’t need to do that, Van.”
“I’m not doing it because I have to, Liv. I want to. Mouse and I can stay busy, and you finish what you need to get done.” I met her gaze. “We’re ten feet down the hall. She’ll be perfectly safe.”
Sammy looked delighted. “Mommy, I have a new nickname!”
Liv’s lips quirked. “Yes, it seems you do. Mr. Van and Mouse.”
I smiled down at Sammy. “Sounds good, right, kiddo?”
Sammy beamed. “I love it!”
“That’s settled, then.” I glanced at Liv. “How about that drawing?”
Sammy’s tiny hand snuck into mine. “Please?” She beseeched Liv.
Liv grinned, clearly defeated. “Okay.” She wagged her finger at Sammy. “You be good.”
Sammy tugged on my hand. “I will. Come on, Mr. Van! Let’s go!”
Laughing, I let her lead me to my office.
Sammy tapped the paper with a sticky, impatient finger. “More of these.”
I had to bite back another chuckle. I wasn’t Liv, but I could render fairly accurate drawings. A bookshelf seemed pretty simple. I’d thought I could keep Sammy busy for a while and let Liv work. Sketch out a bookshelf and be entertained by her stories. I knew kids liked to talk. They loved a captive audience, and I found her easy to listen to. She was a bright, happy kid.
But this wasn’t just any kid, and it certainly wasn’t just any bookshelf.
This one had a top shaped like a castle. Nooks and cubbyholes as well as shelves for all her stuffed friends. It had to be pink. With glitter.
Lots of glitter.
“More turrets, Mouse?” I asked.
Her curls bobbed wildly. “Yes,” she hissed slightly, finishing off the Danish I had let her have. There were bits of icing all over the drawing, my lap, and her fingers and face, but she had loved it, and I wasn’t able to say no to her. She had been very polite and very excited when she spied the pastry box and asked if there was anything in it.
“I’m hungry, Mr. Van.”
I flipped open the lid and let her choose. Little minx took the last lemon Danish, then proceeded to devour it after she climbed up on my lap and continued to describe the bookcase of her dreams.
I huffed, my breath moving her curls around her head.
“We have two. Where could I put more?”
She scrunched up her face, looking so much like Liv when she concentrated, I grinned.
She tapped the paper again, leaving a smear of icing. “On the side.” Her eyes widened. “Oh! Both sides, Mr. Van!”
I leaned back, snagging a wet wipe from the dish beside me. It held an assortment of condiment packets we kept on hand, and I remembered we had a few of the wipes in the dish too. Judging by the smears on the paper, I needed to clean her hands.
“Hands up, Mouse. Show me those sticky fingers.”
Immediately, she lifted them, and I gently wiped at the tiny digits on her hands, removing the traces of sticky icing clinging to her fingers.
“Let me see your face.”
She tilted up her chin, facing my direction. Icing was stuck to her cheeks and lips, and I grabbed another wipe and cleaned it off.
“Good thing I did that before Mommy saw you.”
“Before Mommy saw what?”
I looked at the door. Liv leaned against the jamb, smirking knowingly. It was sexy.
“I had a treat, Mommy!”
One eyebrow rose on Liv’s face. Her gaze was direct. “I see.”
“She said she was hungry.”
Liv shook her head. “She’s always hungry if there is something sweet around.”
“Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you asking. I guess I should have done so.”
She waved her hand. “It’s fine. We’re going to the park, so she can run off the sugar. I’ll get her a decent lunch.”
“And ice cream,” Sammy interjected.
Liv sighed. “Yes. As a special treat.”
Sammy clapped her hands. “Mommy, come see my bookshelf!”
Liv crossed the room, staring down at the paper. “That’s, ah, quite the shelf.”
“Pink,” I informed her.
“Ah.”
Sammy patted the paper. “With glitter here. And here.”
“Wow.”
“Glitter, I have been informed, is mandatory for castle bookshelves.”
“Makes sense.” Liv tapped Sammy’s head. “Go get your coat and stuff, baby. Mommy’s done.”
Sammy slid from my knee. Without prompting, she peeked up at me. “Thank you for the treat, Mr. Van. And drawing my bookshelf.”
; “You’re welcome.”
She patted my hand, wrapping her fingers around one of mine. “You can come to the park with us. I could show you my slide and where I hang upside down on the bars.” She leaned closer. “Mommy doesn’t like that part, but I’m good at it.”
“I think Mr. Van has other plans,” Liv said quietly. “Maybe another time.”
Sammy’s face fell, but she didn’t argue. “Okay.” She paused at the door, looking back. “You can come to the park anytime, Mr. Van. It’s a happy place.”
She hurried to Liv’s office, the sound of her rushed footsteps making me chuckle.
“She’s amazing,” I said to Liv.
She smiled and indicated the paper. “May I take that?”
I frowned. “How will I know what I’m supposed to build?”
She looked confused. “I don’t expect you to build it, Van. Neither does she. It’s a drawing. I like to keep her ideas in a book so I can show her one day.”
I stood and took the paper to the copy machine and scanned it. I handed Liv the original. “I’m building it for her.”
“I can’t ask you…”
“You didn’t. She did. I told her I would, and I never break my promises.”
“I’ll pay—”
I interrupted her. “No, you won’t. This is between my new little friend and me.”
Her eyes were filled with wonder. “How can I thank you?”
Words I never thought I would utter came from my mouth.
“Can I go with you to the park? I like happy places.”
Van
Somehow, as we headed to my truck, Sammy’s hand slipped into mine, a tiny fist nestled against the callused skin of my palm. She chatted the entire way down the hall, telling me about her favorite grilled cheese sandwich at the diner we were headed to before the park.
“Do you like ketchup with your grilled cheese sandwich, Mr. Van?” she asked.
I found the way she addressed me amusing. It made me smile. “I don’t think you can legally eat it without ketchup. Or bacon.”
Van: Vested Interest #5 Page 2
