by Kim Law
Trenton swallowed. “So it’ll up the ratings, right?” Her voice came out thin and tight as she tried to put a positive spin on things. “More viewers. More chances to build the business.”
“But we don’t have to give them what they’re after,” Heather insisted. She turned Jill’s face to hers, and the determination in her eyes almost made it through to Jill. “We’re very good at what we do,” Heather said. “You know that. We all know that. And we can win this competition. We can also make it a great show, even without the drama they’re looking for.”
“And what if we aren’t personable enough to pull it off without the drama?” Jill asked.
What if I can’t control my temper when I’m around him? was what she really wanted to ask, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to let her foster sisters down.
“Then they’ll flash the ‘Reynolds charm’ on camera enough to make sure they still capture the viewers,” Trenton answered.
When Jill turned back to her, Trenton glanced down at her hands. She didn’t have to voice her additional thoughts for Jill to follow along with them. The Reynolds charm would add more to the show than the three of them ever could. They were just orphans who’d had the unfortunate circumstances that allowed them to grow up together.
The viewers would fall in love with Cal well before the end of the first episode, and no one would even know who the Bluebonnets were.
“We’re here for you,” Heather said from the other side of the truck. “We’ll do whatever you say. We’ll walk if that’s what you need us to do.”
“Lawyers and legal contracts be damned,” Trenton added under her breath.
Heather reached over and pinched Trenton on the ear.
“Ouch.” Trenton smacked Heather’s hand away. “Stop it.”
“You stop it. We’re supporting Jill in this.”
“I didn’t say we weren’t supporting her.” Trenton glared at Heather before turning a slightly softened gaze back to Jill. Her chin remained thrust forward. “Of course we’re supporting you, Jilly. You know that. I’ll walk, too. Me, you, and Heather. We’re The Three. You just say the word.” Her glare fired back to Heather. “But I was just pointing out the logistics of the situation.”
The phone began ringing through Trenton’s speakers again. Aunt Blu.
No one answered it.
“We’ll figure it out,” Heather said calmly. She took a deep breath, and Jill could tell she was mentally steeling herself to go into battle. Heather liked to pretend she was tough, but on the inside, she was as soft as they came.
Trenton’s mouth opened again, but Jill interjected. “We’re not walking.”
Trenton slammed her mouth shut.
And at that precise moment, Cal Reynolds decided to enter the picture. He turned the corner of the sidewalk on the opposite end of the street, and his gaze landed on Trenton’s truck. He stopped dead in his tracks.
“We’re not walking.” Jill forced the words out again.
Damned if she’d let her ex steal her one opportunity at proving herself. She dug deep into her acting skills, reminding herself that she absolutely could do this. It would just be a matter of being “Jessica Grant” for the next six weeks instead of Jill Sadler.
“And I won’t be losing my shit for anyone,” she added, her voice now a picture of calm. “Especially not for a man whose only purpose in the coming weeks is being a backdrop to showcase our skills.”
This was not only their chance to prove themselves as a viable construction company, but also her opportunity to finally put Cal in his place. Time to show the man he was nothing to her.
She pasted a cheery smile on her face then, looking for all the world as if she had not one care in the world, and took in Trenton and Heather one by one. “Let’s do this, ladies.” She nodded toward Trenton’s door handle. “We have a house to choose. And we have a house full of men to show who the better team is.”
Trenton nodded cautiously, and as she reached for the driver’s door, Heather spoke from Jill’s other side. “Are we taking the dog’s advice?”
Jill froze. “The dog?”
She turned back.
“Bonnie Beckman’s dog,” Heather explained. “He barked at the Cadillac House while out on their walk last week, remember? And he never barks.”
Jill stared at the woman who sat on the seat next to her. Auburn hair swept up into the perfect sloppy bun, a trendy tunic sweater and leggings, and a wide belt that should be lethal the way it accentuated her curves.
Nothing about her indicated that she’d lost her mind.
“Do you want to take the advice of a dog?” Jill asked.
“I’m just saying . . . did you ever once hear him bark while we were over there building that retreat?”
“And Bonnie has made predictions in the past that came true,” Trenton added.
Jill blinked. It was as if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole.
She slowly turned back to Trenton. Had they both lost their minds? “You’re the sensible one,” she told her youngest foster sister.
“I know. But you weren’t paying attention when Bonnie told her story this morning. The dog went absolutely nuts in front of that house. And only in front of that house.”
“Probably because he sensed a ghost!”
The Cadillac House had gotten its name due to Pastor Wainwright once driving his Cadillac through the front door. The story was that he’d returned early from a business trip to discover the silhouette of his wife and another man in the upstairs window. And they hadn’t been up there talking. Though he’d denied to his death that he’d done it on purpose—or that there’d even been a man in the house with his wife—Mr. Wainwright had crashed through the front of the house in anger. In the ensuing chaos, the unnamed other man slipped out the back door and was never heard from again.
Some years later, Mrs. Wainwright died alone in that very room, and the rumor was that her spirit had never left. It remained to this day, waiting for her lover to come back to her.
Heather loved that story.
“I don’t even know what to say to you two.” Jill shook her head in confusion. “We talked about this already. We decided on the Bono House.”
The Bono House had once been owned by a huge fan of Bono, of the ’80s band U2, and the owner spent a fortune decorating it with U2 memorabilia. It had stayed like that through several years of rentals.
Though both houses had been built around the same time, and both were essentially the same style and size, Bono had been renovated several times over the years, while Cadillac had only gone through upgrades when the front of the house had needed to be reconstructed. Chances were good that Cadillac would have more hidden issues. No matter what some dog implied.
“Why would we change our minds now?” Jill asked.
Someone tapped on Trenton’s window before either of them could answer, and Jill looked up to find Patrick smiling in at them. The redheaded cameraman stood to his left.
“Christ,” she muttered.
“Time to put on our game faces,” Heather said, and Trenton added, “But first we vote.”
Jill had no time to object before the other two piped in, both saying “Cadillac” at the same time.
Jill just stared at them. She was not voting for the ghost house.
“Cadillac, it is,” Trenton mumbled, dropping her gaze from Jill’s.
The three of them climbed from the front seat of the truck then, all standing tall and not acting in the least as if they were walking straight into the firing line. But then Jill mentally faltered. Because she realized they were all still wearing their mics. And they’d all been hot the entire time.
Chapter Four
“Nothing worthwhile will come from screaming. At least not outwardly.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #23
Cal stood at the red Formica countertop of the Cadillac House late Wednesday afternoon, sketching a small wine fridge onto the approved plans. Then he
erased the lines and moved the fridge to another section of the soon-to-be-enlarged kitchen. He gave a quick nod. It would barely take away any usable space if put there.
He glanced up as Pete Logan entered the room. Pete had been working for him since Cal took over the business six years before, but they’d known each other long before that. They’d played on the high school basketball team together, and in the years since, their friendship had grown.
“You hear back on that final permit?” Cal asked.
Pete waved a piece of paper in the air. “Just came from the courthouse.”
“Good deal.” The city had come through, rushing all approvals as they’d promised.
Cal tossed a glance out the kitchen window, wondering if Jill had gotten hers, too. He had a direct line of sight into the Bono House living room, but there was no sign of her. He knew she was over there, though. Her pickup had been sitting in the driveway since he’d arrived early that morning, and every light in the house remained on.
Heather and Trenton were likely still on-site, as well. Like he and Pete, the three of them would have spent the last few days buried in details to ensure that demo could start first thing the following morning.
Along with lining up permits and inspections, and working out specifics for a very tight budget, he and Pete had also created a schedule for everyone on We Nail It’s crew who wanted to be a part of the work at the house. Men would be rotated out on a weekly basis, and though it would add a layer of difficulty to keeping things running seamlessly, Cal knew his men could handle it. He had a good team.
That would be the tip of the iceberg with the craziness of the upcoming weeks, though. Because as Cal had discovered today, filming a show about a renovation job was way more than simply doing the renovation job. By the time Cal had arrived that morning, Patrick and his crew had already been on-site wiring cameras and lighting throughout both houses. Interview stations had been prepared, both inside the homes and out, catering had pitched a tent and filled it with food, and no less than three producers had spent time “coaching” him for when the cameras started rolling.
Then Bob and Debra Raines had arrived. And that’s when the reality of filming a reality show had truly set in.
Cal hung his head in exhaustion, rubbing at the tight muscles in the back of his neck, and realized that Pete had left the room. He could hear footsteps coming from the second floor as Pete made a final sweep of the house, and Cal reminded himself to give his best foreman a hefty raise before the six weeks were up. Pete would be splitting his time between the Cadillac House and all the other jobs currently on their roster, and Cal knew the other man had to already be as bone tired as he was.
But then, Pete didn’t have quite the same mental contortions going on as Cal.
He looked out the window again. Jill had been screwing with his mind since the second she, Heather, and Trenton had stepped out of the truck two days before. By sending him to the café, Patrick had set up Jill to arrive at the houses ready to blow a gasket. Cal had understood that. He’d gone along with it. And then he’d seen the look on Jill’s face when she’d connected all the dots. He might be angry with her, but he hadn’t wanted her to make a fool of herself on camera. So he’d called Heather.
There had been no return call requesting a delay in filming, though. There had been nothing from them. Just three confident women climbing from the cab of the truck, all walking tall and looking as if they planned to kick anyone’s butt who got in their way.
Cal hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Jill for a second. She’d surprised him with her calmness. With her control. Of course, she hadn’t exactly followed Patrick’s plans for a meet and greet in the middle of the street, either. Instead, she’d acknowledged to Patrick that she could see who her competition was, and that Bluebonnet Construction was thrilled to be going up against such a talented competitor. They couldn’t wait to have their skills gauged against his.
Cal had overheard all of this from a safe distance, of course, due to the death stare she’d fired when he’d gotten within fifty feet of her.
Once Jill had finished laying out how she’d seen the day going, Patrick had struggled for an excuse to do any differently. He couldn’t very well admit that the entire point of putting them face-to-face right off the bat had been to capture her losing her cool, so the man had conceded, and they’d gotten down to the business of choosing houses.
A coin toss had happened, Cal had won, and they’d finally scored their first glimpses of the houses’ interiors. And against his better judgment, he’d ended up choosing the exact house that he hadn’t wanted.
He sighed with frustration. He’d picked the home that nearby residents swore housed a ghost. The home hadn’t been worked on in fifty years—therefore, he knew his contingency fund, as well as his timeline, would be on shaky ground—yet he’d chosen that house anyway. And he’d chosen it only to keep Jill from getting it. Because he’d seen the interest on her face.
That lapse in judgment had not set the tone of the competition the way he’d hoped. Nor had his inability to understand this “new” Jill. Since returning to Red Oak Falls, Jill had either changed course whenever she’d seen him, or turned her head as they passed. And if neither of those were options . . . she’d launched mental daggers via her eyes. She’d hid her hatred of him from no one.
Yet during the last three days—though never actually saying anything nonscripted directly to him—she’d been pleasant, cute, and downright funny every time they’d had to be in the same vicinity together. And damned if it hadn’t been hot to watch. As hot as when she lost her temper. Which she hadn’t done once since arriving on set.
Not during the multiple times Patrick had tried to trick her into sharing a camera with Cal, nor during the official meeting of the teams after Bob and Debra had arrived, the filmed walk-throughs, or the redoing of the coin toss. Throughout all of it, Jill had been nothing but charming. She’d even had Bob and Debra rolling with laughter on several occasions. All while practically glowing every single time a camera had turned her way.
It had all made Cal want to test her. To poke at her just to see if he could get her going.
Because, first . . . he was the one who was supposed to be charming on this set. He had it in his blood, after all. That was his role to play.
But also, if he wasn’t positive that Jill still hated his guts, he’d almost swear she didn’t. She’d been that convincing.
He returned his attention to the reno plans, trying his best to shove his ex from his mind. He’d spent far too much time thinking about Jill over the years, and it should have stopped a hell of a long time ago. He pulled out the kitchen design once more and lined it up with the drawings of the dining room and living space. They intended to knock down the interior walls running between the three rooms, so they’d need to get going on that first thing. Patrick’s team would be back to film the demo tomorrow, and along with capturing the action on camera, they wanted to start one-on-ones with the talent.
Cal looked out the window again. He and Jill were part of that talent. And he found himself wondering how long she could keep up her charade. Or if he should do something to try to crack it.
He leaned forward to see more of the other house and finally caught sight of her coming in the back door. Her hair, as usual, was the first thing he noticed. He’d never crossed paths with another human being whose hair had the same inky blackness as Jill’s.
He let his gaze scan over her body as she passed in front of the dining room windows. Not one thing about her had changed over the years.
“Need me to do anything else before I go?”
Cal jumped as if Pete had stabbed him. He hadn’t heard Pete return from upstairs.
Then, when he realized that Pete stood at the back door instead of on the other side of the room, he glanced behind him to peer through the kitchen’s opening, toward the front of the house. How had he missed Pete coming back downstairs?
“We’re good.”
Cal returned his attention to his friend. Clearly, he’s been too engrossed in thoughts of Jill to pay attention. He put his back to the window. “I plan to get out of here myself soon.”
Pete nodded, then he angled his head toward the window behind Cal. “Do I need to cover that up? I can bring over a piece of cardboard.”
Pete had been around when Cal returned alone from Vegas. He was the only one Cal had ever talked to about his and Jill’s breakup, and the months that followed it had been pretty rough.
“No.” Cal offered no other words.
“She’s a cool one.”
Cal lifted a shoulder. “I can be just as cool.”
Pete’s brows rose before he crossed to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Cal. He peered through the glass that looked out over Jill’s house, while Cal remained stoically facing the other direction.
“Not hard on the eyes, either,” Pete mused. “Impressive the way she’s been a full participant during filming so far . . . yet has managed to never once acknowledge your existence.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything different.”
The truth was, though, that Cal had once expected a heck of a lot different. From both of them. And it pissed him the hell off the way she continued to ignore him after all this time.
Pete finally turned from the window, and as he mimicked Cal’s stance by leaning against the sink, he shot Cal a hard look. “Five and a half more weeks. Keep your head in the game.”
“My head’s always in the game.”
Pete nodded. “No need for me to be concerned, then.” He walked out of the room, and as the front door closed on the opposite side of the house, Cal let out a ragged breath.
Then he turned, and once again looked out the kitchen window.
Music from an ’80s hair band blasted from the portable speakers sitting in the front room, echoing throughout both floors of the house. Trenton had brought the speakers over earlier that day in preparation for demo the following morning, and Jill had located an ’80s station on her phone and plugged it in. The music choice seemed fitting, given that they were working on the Bono House. She’d never been a big ’80s music buff, but the almost incomprehensible screeching filling her head was exactly what she needed.
