by Sara Daniel
“It’s a little late to pretend the work you’re doing here is better than whatever life you had before.”
“Touché.” He was a tough-love friend—something she hadn’t experienced before. And she appreciated it.
Veronica ignored his hand and limped for the front door. The funny thing was this was better. For the first time she felt like she was working toward something meaningful. She felt alive. Not that she enjoyed the torturous task of pulling shingles or the way her hands and feet hurt so badly that she wanted to cry. But it was certainly better than trying to earn her father’s respect or maintain a relationship with Trevor through his assistant.
She reached for the screen door. “You don’t have to wait for me. I’m going to stay away from the job site for the rest of the day.”
Matt held the door open and stepped into the trailer behind her. “Wash your hands; I’ll stay and help you medicate them. You’re not going to be able to bandage them by yourself.”
“I’m a disaster. I need to do more than just wash my hands. Since I don’t have a tub to take a nice long bubble bath in, I’m going to shower. And you’re not hanging out in my trailer while I do.”
“Are you sure you don’t need me to scrub your back? Dirt gets into weird places on these jobs.” He winked at her.
Veronica blinked at the fantasy that engulfed her, one that wasn’t just sexual. They could work side by side and then come home and care for each other when the day was done. They could build a life together…
Asking out her boss was a social faux pas she knew better than to make. But allowing men to hold the power and to control her life was a mistake she’d made before. She could not fall for Matt if it meant giving up the dreams she was working so hard to make come true.
…
Matt held the screen door open as he backed out of the trailer, feeling like a first-class idiot to go along with his jerk status. She might as well throw the sexual harassment suit at him now. He certainly had it coming. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t. Thanks for the warning about the dirt.”
He cleared his throat. Right. That’s all he’d been getting at. “I’m going to run to the office for the first-aid kit. Open the screen door to let me know when you’re dressed and ready for me to come back in.”
Veronica’s gaze stayed on him for a beat. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come back—”
“I insist. Your wounds need to be attended to. The last thing I need is OSHA breathing down my neck.”
“As long as it’s work required,” she said with a smile. Then she turned away and disappeared down the hall, the latch on the bathroom door echoing in her wake. She might be clueless about construction, but she proved she had heaps more common sense than he did.
He secured the flimsy screen in the door frame and then turned around and surveyed the lawn. The door he’d broken two days ago was nowhere in sight. In fact, her yard was the only spot in the whole overgrown trailer park that didn’t have a single dandelion in it. He couldn’t imagine her taking on the task of weeding. Maybe the door had killed them all when it fell on them.
Where was that door, anyway? He’d promised to fix it on his next free evening. Of course, he’d also expected she’d be gone before he ever got a night to himself. He circled the trailer and found the door propped against the back wall next to a sizeable pile of limp green weeds and the remains of a sunflower pinwheel. All it needed was a new frame to attach to, a knob, and a dead bolt.
Through the thin walls, he heard the shower turn on. Veronica was naked. He gritted his teeth.
Make that two dead bolts.
Chapter Five
Matt had left like he’d said, ostensibly to get the first-aid supplies, but mostly because he needed distance to remind himself of all the reasons he wasn’t attracted to her. The minute he returned and she opened the screen door, his rationalizations disappeared. She was wearing sneakers, calf-length pants, and an aqua silk shirt. She would have looked pretty wearing a garbage bag. And now here she was: dirt-free and wearing silk, of all things.
Her smile faded, and the screen wobbled. “You didn’t have to come back. I’m sure you want to return to the job.”
“I said I’d do this for you.” He made an effort to stop ogling as he put his hand on the door and let himself in. “I want to.”
Matt took a step and stared in shock. The countertops were white. The window was clear, and the trailer looked almost bright. He took another step to set down his first-aid supplies and realized that his boots lifted without sticking to the floor.
“How much did you pay your maid service to come down here and fix this place up?” As soon as he said the words, he wished he could take them back. The joke fell flat and made him sound like he was getting in another dig about her rich-girl life. Instead, he was amazed at how she—or anyone—had been able to make the place clean enough to pass a sanitary inspection.
“Enough that I can’t afford to pay you to be my home nurse.” Her voice was stiff. “I’ll apply my own Band-Aids.”
“Sorry.” He rested his hand on her shoulder to convey his sincerity. He felt like he couldn’t speak a full sentence in front of her without needing to apologize. If she could read his thoughts since he’d brought her back to the trailer, he’d have even more to apologize for.
Her hair spilled over the back of his hand as she turned and looked at him. It was as soft and silky as he’d imagined. “Sit down. Let me see your hands.”
She braced her left hand on the table as she started to sit and then flinched.
Matt snatched it up and hissed out a breath. She was stronger than he’d given her credit for, but her body wasn’t invincible, evidenced by her red, angry blisters. He picked up a tube of antibiotic cream and prepared to squeeze out the entire contents on her abused skin. He knelt on the floor beside her and looked her in the eye. “I am so sorry I didn’t give you a pair of gloves.”
“Are you really?” Veronica raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. I’m groveling on my knees.”
She looked less than impressed with his efforts. “I thought your whole point was to push me over the edge, so I’ll run back to my parents and spend the rest of my life sheltered and pampered, never coming within a fifty-mile radius of your town again.”
“That…may have been my original plan. Yet you’re still here, and I’m apologizing. Maybe you can help me figure out where I went wrong.” He had pushed Kimberly over the edge—not intentionally, but he’d definitely thrown more at her than she could handle until she’d run back to the safety of her old life. He wasn’t entirely joking in his plea to understand why it hadn’t worked on Veronica.
Her lips quirked in a half smile. “This is the first job I’ve had where the people I worked with didn’t treat me with kid gloves or give me fluff projects because of who I’m related to. I know you didn’t intend for me to like you more because of the hard work I’ve had to endure, but I do.”
He slathered on the antibiotic cream, trying not to dwell on how much he liked her, too. “So this is a little experiment into how the other half lives. Are you planning to go back to your old life when the novelty of being treated like a normal person wears off?”
“There’s no going back.” Her tone was serious. “I made a clean break. I left my credit cards, checking account, everything with my parents when I walked away Tuesday morning.”
After watching her pull shingles, he could imagine how determined she’d looked when she made that choice. Kimberly never would have turned her back on her cushy life.
He let his fingers linger on Veronica’s left hand for a moment longer than necessary before he released it and stood up. He wanted to step outside to give himself some space again, but he settled for sitting across the table from her before he reached for her other hand. “They’re your parents. They’ll take you back.”
“I don’t want them to, not if I h
ave to agree to their conditions. I’m living life on my terms now.”
He flipped her hand over and winced at the damage. Veronica had blisters to match those on her left hand, along with a raw scrape across the palm. She also had a deep scratch going down her thumb that he hadn’t noticed when he inspected it on the roof.
She hadn’t breathed a word of complaint.
“What kind of conditions?” He raised his gaze to her beautiful, flawless face. Whatever it was had to be bad if she was putting up with this much pain without a single tear.
She shook her head. “Marrying someone I’ve never been on an actual date with, who doesn’t care I exist, just so he and my father can merge their businesses together. Besides all the backward notions about needing a marriage to seal a merger, the merger’s not right for either of their businesses.”
Matt’s hand tightened around hers. “You came here to get away from your boyfriend?”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s no boyfriend. You’ve touched me more today than he ever has. You’re also hurting my hand right now.”
He immediately relaxed his hold and focused on the job he was supposed to do. He had no reason to be jealous. Clearly, the other guy was a schmuck. Matt kept his fingers gentle as he applied the antibiotic cream. “How could you work with these kinds of scrapes?”
“That’s what you were waiting for, wasn’t it? For me to whine that I broke a nail? My manicurist is likely to faint when I come home to repair my cuticles—right?”
“A certified nurse could faint over these scratches. I think you should go to the clinic and have a doctor take a look at them.” The over-the-counter antibiotic cream he was using might not be enough to prevent an infection. And if it wasn’t, he was solely to blame.
…
Veronica took over and finished securing the gauze. “I don’t need to go to the clinic. I’m going to finish out my day working in your office.”
“I suppose you could try to find my computer or shred some papers or something,” Matt said.
Veronica sighed. Minutes ago he’d held her hands so tenderly she’d wanted to crawl on his lap and let him hold her. His soulful eyes had promised if there were any way for him to take away her pain, he’d do it in an instant.
But then he had made comments to remind her that he didn’t see value in anything she could offer his business and she ought to go marry Mr. Always-in-a-Meeting-Leave-a-Message-With-My-Assistant. “Office work can be productive and beneficial to your bottom line, you know.”
Hands properly bandaged, she walked out of the trailer to start the real, productive work of her day. She stopped in the middle of the gravel drive and looked around for her ancient, ugly car. Darn. She’d left it at the construction office when she’d ridden to the roofing job with Matt.
The screen door slammed, and Matt’s boots pounded down the path behind her. “You’ve proven you can be productive against all the odds. I’ll drive you to the office and show you the files for accounts receivable and payable.”
She turned slowly. “I’m sure I’ll find them, as soon as I unearth the computer enough to turn it on.”
“I meant paper files. I don’t actually use the computer for anything.”
“Nothing?” Oh boy. He might not know it yet—and he certainly wouldn’t believe her if she tried to convince him—but he needed her. A lot.
She smiled brightly. “I would love for you to show me your files.”
Matt’s brown eyes widened.
Her cheeks felt hot. That was much more suggestive than she had meant for it to sound. Not that she wouldn’t mind checking out his, um, files.
“It’s a deal.” Matt offered his hand to her.
She accepted the handshake, steeling herself not to flinch with the anticipated squeeze to her abused flesh, but although he shook firmly, he didn’t apply an ounce of painful pressure.
His gaze met hers then, and the connection stirred her all the way to her toes. This was too powerful to be labeled a deal. It was something more, something bigger…something she wasn’t ready for.
Matt released her and strode to his truck. By the time she regained her equilibrium, he was sitting in the front seat waiting for her. “Ready?” he asked when she got in. He wouldn’t meet her gaze as he cranked up the radio.
Ready to wow him with her business skills? Absolutely. She was going to do more than shuffle papers. She intended to put her biggest asset—her brain—to work for him.
Matt parked in front of the construction office and hissed out a word of frustration as he cut the engine. “Your grand file tour will have to wait. My not-so-silent partner has decided to speak up.” His lips quirked. “You better not have a sister he’s throwing at me this time.”
“I’m an only child.” Veronica followed his gaze out the windshield. Ron stood at the front door of the office, ramrod straight, his cane at his side, his gaze on her. “What do you think he wants?”
“Since you came to town, I haven’t been able to make heads or tails of what he’s thinking.” Matt left the truck and crossed the small gravel lot.
Veronica pulled the door handle gingerly and followed him.
“You don’t look like you’ve been working,” Ron accused her when she’d closed half the distance between them.
She kept her head up and refused to let his words discourage her, considering how hard she’d worked and how disastrous the results had been. “I started early, so I’ve already cleaned up.”
“Working a half day counts as half a day, not a full day.” He jabbed his cane into the ground for emphasis.
“Don’t worry. My day is just getting started.” She planned to wrestle the archaic filing system into oblivion.
Ron shifted his gaze to Matt. “I’ve decided I want a gazebo in my backyard.”
“Okay,” he said, as if the change of subject and random request were completely ordinary. “That’s doable.”
“I want it ready for this weekend.”
“That’s a problem.” Matt closed the remaining distance between himself and Ron. “Everyone’s tied up on the roofing job today. There’s a seventy percent chance of rain tonight, so we need to get it shingled.”
“You can build the gazebo tomorrow,” Ron said.
“You should know it’s not that simple. I have enough wood for the posts, but we’ll need to set them in the ground with concrete before we build the rest of the structure. I’ll also need to get more wood for the floor and sides. What do you need a gazebo for?”
“To enjoy my backyard and to have something that my granddaughter personally crafted. She can set the posts tomorrow. You can get the rest of the supplies over the weekend, so she can finish it on Monday.”
“You want me to build you a gazebo?” As far as personal requests went, Veronica was certain it was the most bizarre one she’d ever received. With the success rate she’d had on jobs so far, Ron wasn’t going to get much enjoyment out of her handiwork.
She hoped her book had a gazebo chapter.
“Veronica’s not doing manual labor until Monday. Her hands need a break.” Matt lifted her wrist.
With the thick gauze surrounding her hand, she felt like she’d just been declared the winner of a boxing match.
“If she wants to run my company, she needs to prove she can suck it up,” Ron said.
“She spent all morning sucking it up after I failed to provide her with gloves,” Matt shot back.
Veronica’s wrist tingled and her pulse throbbed where his fingers pressed against her flesh. She’d worked hard to earn his respect, and him standing up for her proved she was making progress.
Ron dismissed Matt and pointed his finger at her. “I expect you to set posts with concrete tomorrow or go home. Your mother must be frantic with worry about you.”
Veronica had come to town envisioning Ron as a fairy godfather who was the answer to her dreams. Instead of embarking on an idyllic grandfather-granddaughter relationship, he’d ignored her and thrown her to th
e mercy of an unsympathetic town. Now two days later, he’d come looking for her because he wanted her to build something they all knew she was unqualified to do.
She didn’t need Matt to defend her; the only way she’d make real progress was by fighting her own battles. She slid her hand from his grasp and rested her gauze-covered palm on his forearm instead, as she focused on Ron. “My mother knows where I am, and if she’s worried, her concerns are unfounded. I’ll go down to the store right now and buy those gloves so I’m prepared. I can’t wait to build my first gazebo.”
Ron’s eyes narrowed on her hand. “Did you come here to work or to pick out a husband?”
She snatched back her hand, burned by the heat from Matt’s arm as much as her grandfather’s words. Matt was supposed to be a means to her goal, not a distraction. “I’ve been working as hard as I can to prove myself to you.”
“If your mother knows where you are, why hasn’t she come here to rescue you?”
Veronica gritted her teeth. “Because I’m not a little girl, and I can do my own rescuing.”
“Really? I thought you e-mailed me to rescue you from your evil father’s plot.”
“He’s not evil, and I e-mailed looking for advice. I appreciate that you went beyond advice to offer me an alternative, and I intend to make the most of it.” Her heart hurt far more than her abused hands and feet. Why was it so hard for her family to accept her on her own merits?
Veronica drove the few blocks downtown. The hardware store was directly next to the grocery store. With any luck they would have an ample supply of work gloves in her size.
Despite her misgivings about Officer O’Malley waiting to bust her, she parked in the same spot from two days ago. She’d taped up her broken taillight the best she could until she’d earned enough money to pay for a replacement. She’d done nothing wrong. The townspeople needed to accept her. She wasn’t going to hide from them.
The Hollisters were sitting on the bench outside the store again. Wilbur was dressed in yellow striped pants and a red plaid shirt. Agatha was wearing tweed slacks and a gray-blue velvet top. Veronica stepped out of the car and walked toward them. “Good morning.”
