The Sleigh on Seventeenth Street (Three Rivers Ranch Romance Book 14)

by Liz Isaacson

  “I’ve been sweating since six this morning,” she said.

  “Oh yeah?” He leaned slightly toward her. “Why’s that?”

  “I do kickboxing in the mornings,” she said, facing him fully and arching her right eyebrow.

  A smile with the wattage of the sun beamed across his face. “Sounds…fierce.”

  “And then I’ve been in and out of cupboards all morning.” Her stomach growled, but she ignored it.

  “And you skipped lunch,” he said with a chuckle. “Me too.” He faced the front again, and Cami took comfort in the fact that he was as worried about winning the bid as she was.

  “If you win, we should celebrate,” he said, his voice much quieter than before.

  She jerked away from him and looked at him. He didn’t look at her but kept his focus up front. The only indication that he was talking to her came in the slight lean toward her chair.

  Cami settled back into her seat properly. “What does that mean?”

  “Dinner,” he said. “Me and you.”

  She wanted to eat everything she could get her hands on after this bid, whether she won or not. Her compulsive need to eat—whether she was happy or sad, had lots of money or none, had had a good day or a bad one—was why she got up at five o’clock in the morning and worked out with a weight bag and a personal trainer.

  Cami knew there were better ways to deal with her emotions, but she hadn’t quite found one that worked for her yet.

  “I’m not going to dinner with you,” she hissed as a suit from Saddleback Homes stood and started making his way toward the podium.

  “Even if I win the bid?” he asked.

  “Especially if you win the bid,” she said. She couldn’t imagine how arrogant he’d be then. He’d probably jump up and shout if the city won the electric bid.

  He chuckled like her rejection didn’t even faze him, like his heart was made of steel and her words had bounced right off. No wonder he’d had four girlfriends in six months.

  You don’t know if that’s true, she told herself as she folded her arms and crossed her legs. Trying to clench all her emotions inside, she took a deep breath, but that only filled her nose with the woodsy, wild scent of Dylan’s cologne.

  “Is that smell your cologne or a toxic spill?” she whispered.

  Dylan didn’t have time to answer before the suited man adjusted the microphone for his height and said, “Welcome to the Saddleback Homes Rivers Merge Development.” He had a round, smooth voice that should’ve soothed Cami but didn’t. “My name is Thomas Martin, and I’m the lead architect on this build.” He smiled but it didn’t carry any warmth.

  Someone approached and handed him an envelope. “And now I have the winning bidders in my hand.”

  The crowd shifted and murmurs swam from the front to the back. Beside her, Dylan straightened, his gaze singular on that envelope.

  Thomas ripped it open and extracted several sheets of paper. Cami released the breath she’d been holding. They’d start with the bigger companies first, like cement and brick masons, the landscapers, and then move to the smaller things inside: the electricians, the plumbers, the painters, the tile masters.

  Still, she paid rapt attention to the companies and point-of-contact names as Thomas read them. If she won the bid for Rogers Plumbing, she’d be working with all of these…men. It hit her square in the face that every person under the tent was a man, except for her.

  Her anxiety flipped up, and she worked to calm it. She’d spent her entire career working for men and with men. This would be no different. It would simply be two years of working with the same men as they built the one-hundred-ten unit development.

  Cami tried to swallow, but her throat wasn’t cooperating. She needed this to keep the Rogers’s relevant, keep her job in Three Rivers secure. They needed it so they could retire. They had three daughters, all married and living in the Hill Country. Cami wasn’t sure if one of them would return to Three Rivers and take over the family business, but it was on her list of things to discuss with the Rogers’s. They just needed to get through this bid first.

  “Electric work,” Thomas said, and Dylan’s head jerked up from the notebook where he’d been taking notes. “Will be done by Three Rivers Electric Company.” Thomas scanned the crowd until his eyes landed on Dylan.

  Without thinking, Cami reached over and squeezed his knee. “Congratulations, Dylan.”

  He wore a smile just as wide as the one previously, but it carried only joy and no heat. That fact registered in her brain, but she didn’t know what to make of it. Was he truly interested in her? Could they really go to dinner and have a good time?

  “Plumbing work,” Thomas said, and Cami almost bolted. She couldn’t bear to hear another plumber—someone from outside Three Rivers—named, and she suddenly had no confidence that her bid had been good enough.

  “Indoor and outdoor plumbing, for the entire community, will be done by Rogers Plumbing,” Thomas said, the last two words reverberating around the tent.

  Cami’s heart stopped. Just full-on stopped pumping.

  Thomas met her eyes, and gave a small nod of acknowledgement, and her pulse raced forward again.

  “Congrats, Cami,” Dylan said, not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice. He beamed at her. “You sure we can’t go to dinner? Maybe my toxic spill cologne has driven away your appetite. I could shower before we go.”

  Her mind raced as fast as her heart was galloping. Something sparked between her and Dylan in that moment. That very moment when he had those deep, ocean-colored eyes trained right on her, and a gentle yet sure smile on his face, and that so-not-a-toxic-spill cologne wafting between them.

  Oh, yes, something very hot sparked between them, reminding Cami that water and electricity didn’t mix.

  But she couldn’t help the smile pulling against the corners of her mouth. She felt positively giddy when she said, “Yeah, let’s go to dinner.”

  Chapter Three

  Dylan waited with the other winning bidders in the air-conditioned trailer. A container of iced sweet tea sat on the back table, and everyone had helped themselves to some and now stood in little clumps, talking.

  He stuck close to Cami for a reason he couldn’t name. “This is interesting tea,” she said, staring down into her cup.

  “It has a lot of orange in it,” he agreed. He was a sweet tea purist—lemon and honey only for him.

  “And mint.” Cami made a face and set her cup on the table behind them.

  Saddleback had chosen to stay with all local Three Rivers companies for this build, and as Thomas entered the trailer, Dylan once again thought he looked familiar.

  Thomas shook hands with the people nearest him, the brick mason who currently had two employees—his two sons. How they would handle the brickwork for the entire community was beyond Dylan. But he was thrilled they’d won the bid. Their family dynasty in the business would be able to continue because of it.

  “Welcome,” Thomas finally said. “I trust you are all thrilled to be working with us on this new development.”

  Acknowledgements spread through the crowd. “We’re excited to be working with so many local tradesmen, so much Three Rivers talent.” He sent his chilled smile throughout the room. “My family lived here when I was younger, and the sense of community has stuck with me though they moved when I was only twelve.”

  Thomas Martin, Dylan thought. His brain whirred. “Thomas Martin,” he whispered. He seemed so familiar, and yet Dylan couldn’t locate a memory with him in it.

  “You know him?” Cami inched closer to him. So close Dylan’s next breath was filled with the scent of pineapple and something crisp. Eucalyptus? Peppermint?

  “He grew up here until he was twelve,” Dylan said, tilting his head toward Thomas. “You think he’s that much older than me?”

  She cocked her head and studied Thomas as he continued to speak. “He’s probably between thirty-five and forty.”

  “I’m thirty-four,” Dylan sai
d.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Dylan focused back on Thomas, but still his memory failed him. An architect who used to live in Three Rivers didn’t matter. He’d won the bid for the city and gotten a date with Cami. Today couldn’t get any better.

  He collected the contracts he needed to get signed, and he stepped back into the Texas heat with Cami right in front of him. “Hey, so maybe I can get your number,” he said as she started down the steps.

  She slipped, stumbled forward, and skidded down several steps before coming to a stop.

  “Whoa, hey, you okay?” He hurried down in front of her and looked up to find surprise and horror on her face. She hadn’t fallen, but she wasn’t moving either. A blush crept into her cheeks, making her already bronze skin a delightful shade of brick red.

  Dylan lifted his phone toward her. “So I can call you and let you know what time. I have to go back to the office, and I don’t know how long I’ll be.” He swallowed, suddenly wishing he had his sweet tea back, though he hadn’t really liked the addition of the orange. At least his voice was working.

  When she just stared at his phone like it was a poisonous snake, he added, “I’m sure you have to get back to the Rogers’s.”

  That launched her into motion. She ignored his phone and extended hers instead. “You can put your number in mine.”

  He didn’t see what difference it made, so he took her phone and put in his number. “Great.” He flashed her a smile he hoped would make her soften, just the tiniest bit. “See you tonight.”

  Dylan walked away, an extra bounce in his step that hadn’t been there for months. Maybe years.

  Dylan whistled as he parked his truck and strode into the Electric Company. Asher had texted him three times, and Dylan hadn’t answered. He burst into the man’s office now and lifted the bulky contract above his head.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Asher stood so fast, his chair flailed wildly into the wall.

  “We won the bid.” Dylan laughed, the heaviness he’d been dragging around with him for the past month finally lifting.

  “We won the bid.” Asher took the contract from Dylan and folded back the front cover. He muttered as he read the verbiage, saying coherent things like, “due by five o’clock PM by October fifth…duration of twenty-five months from the date of signing…all interior and exterior electrical needs of the Complex, including special wiring for hot tub pads and the community spa.”

  He glanced up, his dark eyes filled with happiness. “Great work, Dylan. Let’s get this signed and back over to them.”

  Dylan eyed the inch-thick stack of papers and glanced at the clock on the wall behind Asher’s desk.

  Already three-thirty. He’d be lucky if he made it home before six, and then he had to shower….

  He reached for his phone to reschedule with Cami, only to remember that she wouldn’t give him her number. A smile curved his lips. He liked her fire, her strength, the fact that she went kick-boxing every morning.

  “All right,” Asher said, drawing Dylan away from the beginning of his fantasies. “There’s a pen.” He tossed a blue pen toward him.

  “I’m signing?” Dylan just stared at his boss.

  “I’m making you the point man on this,” Asher said. “I don’t have time to handle phone calls and meetings for a two-year project. You’re the lead contact. You sign.” Asher softened the slightest bit. “And I’m not going to be here forever. Someone has to know how every aspect of how this utility runs.”

  “And you think I’m—I mean, of course I can do that.” But of course Dylan had never thought about being over the Electric Company. Sure, he’d worked there for sixteen years—straight out of high school. Did a four-year on-the-job apprenticeship with Asher and had been serving the citizens of Three Rivers ever since, horseback riding in the evenings and on the weekends, and he’d also recently started volunteering out at Courage Reins, with their veteran program on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

  Asher sat down, a parental look on his face. “You’ve been here the longest out of anyone, besides me,” he said. “I only have a few years left before Martha makes me retire and take her across the country in an RV. I need to be able to leave everything we’ve built in good hands.”

  Dylan sat down, his excitement peaking. “I have good hands.”

  Asher chuckled. “Well, let’s get them signing this paperwork.”

  It was six-fifteen when Dylan left the office, a cramp in his right hand that wouldn’t go away. Cami hadn’t called or texted, and he wondered if she would. When he reached the apartment building where he lived, he wasted no time stepping into the shower. That way, on the off-chance that she did call, he’d be ready. And if she didn’t, he could go grab something and eat it in the park.

  His phone buzzed as he pulled on a clean pair of jeans. It wasn’t a number he had in his phone, but the message clearly indicated it was from Cami. His heart lifted toward the ceiling.

  Barely left work, she said. I have a few questions before I agree to meet you somewhere for dinner.

  His heart crashed back to the floor. She wanted to meet him for dinner? Did women even consider meeting someone a date? Why was he even thinking about dating?

  He shook his head and thumbed out, Happy to answer anything. While she typed, he pulled on a blue and white striped polo and dug through his drawer for a pair of socks.

  His phone sounded his notification for a text—the sound of a baseball bat cracking a home run—and he swiped it off the dresser to read Fact or false: You’ve been out with three women in the past four months.

  Dylan simply stared at the words. The letters rearranged themselves until all Dylan could see was player.

  She thought he was a player!

  Fury combined with frustration in his gut, rising up to his throat as he practically slammed his fingers on the letters to spell out false.

  He really wanted to ask her where she’d gotten that misinformation too, but he wanted to be face-to-face with her when he did. Then he could watch her body language, her eyes, really see how she felt. Sometimes texting wasn’t the best form of communication for serious topics.

  Dylan knew. The reason he hadn’t been out with anyone in a lot longer than four months, thank you very much, was because his last relationship with Althea, a third grade teacher at the elementary school, had ended over a text. As if the four months they’d shared together didn’t require a real, grown-up conversation.

  Fact or false: You only like blondes.

  Clearly false, he sent, already tired of this game.

  Fact or false: You kissed Shania Titan behind the bleachers in high school.

  High school? Dylan felt like he’d been transported back almost two decades, and he looked up to the ceiling as if God Himself would be there to lend Dylan some patience.

  And that one was true, and Dylan had never denied it. Never even wanted to. How did she know about Shania anyway? Camila had only been in Three Rivers for a few years. He still remembered the first time he’d met her, spitting fire and Spanish at him like he’d run over her cat.

  He hadn’t, of course. But he had arrived at the diner before her and had just uttered, “Looks like some water got in there and shorted things out.”

  She’d taken it as a personal attack and said, “Hey, it’s not my fault that pinball machine shorted out.”

  Dylan could still remember the fire in her golden eyes, the way she filled out the tank top with ROGERS PLUMBING across the chest. So maybe he’d checked her out that first time they’d met. Could she blame him? She kick-boxed every morning, and she had legs, arms, and curves to prove it.

  That one’s true, he texted. I’d love to tell you all about it over pizza.

  I’m a vegetarian.

  Dylan exhaled as he sat on the edge of his unmade bed. Of course she was. He loved meat, so she wouldn’t eat it. He wondered for a brief moment if trying to start something with Cami was harder than it should be.

  Then he rememb
ered the spark that had passed between them after he’d joked about his cologne. He got up and splashed some of the “toxic spill” on his neck.

  Where do you want to go? he asked her.

  They make a great veggie lovers pizza at this place in Amarillo.

  Amarillo? Dylan glanced at the clock, not that he had anything else to do or anywhere to be before nine tomorrow morning. And it was only seven-fifteen.

  Want me to come pick you up and drive? he messaged.

  That would be great. I only have Penny.

  Penny? Dylan stepped into the bathroom to comb his hair and brush his teeth.

  My plumbing van.

  Dylan chuckled as he grabbed his keys and wallet from the kitchen counter and headed out to his truck.

  I just need your address.

  She sent it, and Dylan couldn’t help the grin that graced his face as he drove the few blocks from his apartment to her house. She lived in the older section of town, in a cute little cottage she clearly kept up in her after-work hours.

  Large trees guarded the property along the road, creating a lot of shade in the evenings. Her grass had seen better days, but it was the tail end of summer, and all the lawns in Three Rivers looked like hers. At least the bark in her flowerbeds looked fresh.

  He climbed the few steps to her small porch and wiped his hands down his thighs. He knocked, unsure of what to expect when she opened the door.

  But it was not a brunette bombshell wearing a blood red tank top that seemed welded to her skin. And her skin…. Dylan wanted to trail his fingers over it to see if it was as silky soft as it looked. A light cocoa color, her skin was only complimented by the red tank. She wore a tight pair of black jeans, with bright red heels on her feet.

  Her toenails were not painted, and she hadn’t made up her face much more than usual. Definitely some darker mascara on her eyes, and her lips seemed to be glossed with raspberries. Dylan swallowed, his mouth watering for a taste of her. She looked nothing like a plumber and everything like the kind of woman Dylan wanted. And wanted very badly.