by Lesley Davis
Scarlet remembered telling her grandma what she wanted to be when she grew up. The arguments of “but you’re a girl” had fallen on deaf ears. Her dedication to decorating had soon brought her grandma around to see her commitment and drive. Scarlet’s need to please her father had been a major deciding factor in her choice. As she’d grown up she’d developed her own skills and dreams that took her away from her father’s side. The fact that Scarlet had found a talent for using her painting to do portraits seemed to appease her grandma’s sensibilities. “If painting and decorating was a good enough start for my father, then it’s a good enough profession for me to fall back on,” Scarlet told him as she scrutinized the houses she was going to be working on as her father pulled into the large driveway.
“It’s what I get for taking you with me on jobs when you were a child.” He stopped the car. “I swear you had a paintbrush in your hand before you’d finished learning how to spell your name.”
“I learned at the knees of the master.” Scarlet unfastened her seat belt and leaned over to kiss her father on his cheek.
“God, it seems like only yesterday you were that small and look at you now. Twenty-eight years old. Where did all those years go?” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “You make me so very proud.”
“I love you too, Dad. Now, I need to get started before the boss catches me outside chatting.”
“He’d be lenient on you. It’s your first day after all.”
“Maybe I can catch him later, ask him about the possibilities of a raise.” She flashed her father a smile. She got a wagging finger back.
“Your first day on the job and already you’re pushing your luck. Go paint. I’ll come by later and bring you some lunch.”
“Daaaad!” Scarlet whined.
“What? I didn’t say I’d be paying for it, did I? You can treat your old man. He’ll appreciate it after you being away from home for so long.”
“I had to be sure I could make my own way in the world before I could come back home.” Scarlet caught sight of her father’s work crew as they all filtered in. “Gregor is still here, I see. He’s as old as you are. Hasn’t he retired yet?”
He made a rude noise in her direction. “He’s the best plumber in the business. And he’s known you since you were a child so you won’t get away with anything with him either.”
Scarlet got out of the car, waiting for her father to do the same. “When do I get to see your landscaping start? Monica said she wouldn’t see me today.”
“Should be tomorrow. I’m getting the skips removed so they’ll have no trouble getting in and out in the yard. Bryce might be back soon too, all being well.”
Scarlet caught the hopeful tone in her father’s voice. “Is she well enough to come back to work? You said the crash she was in was a bad one.”
“It was a miracle she got out alive.” He ran a hand through his thinning gray hair and grimaced at her. “That first time I saw her in the hospital, I thought she’d never recover. But she’s a fighter and her survival was no mistake. She’s at the hospital this morning for her last checkup to get the all clear. Said she’d pop in later to see me so we can start her back on the job as soon as she’s able.”
“What’s she like, Dad?” Scarlet was curious about the only woman who worked for her father’s business.
“She’s hard working, excellent at what she does, a true craftsman.” He winked at her. “Or crafts-woman if you prefer.”
“Dad, I don’t mean work-wise. I meant her. I’m well aware how good her work is since you’ve been praising her skills since day one. And you haven’t stopped grumbling about the work the temporary plasterer has been doing while she’s been off.”
“You know I’m no good at describing folk. You’ll just have to form an opinion of her yourself when you see her.”
Scarlet saw Gregor spot her and start heading in her direction with astonishing speed for such a big man. “I think my welcoming committee is here.” She just managed to squeak out her comment as she was gathered up in a big hug and swung around like she weighed nothing. “Gregor! I’m not a little girl anymore. You can’t swing me around like this and not put your back out!”
“Little Scarlet Tweedy. Your dad said you were finally taking your rightful place in his business. It’s so good to have you home.” Gregor Reeves finally put her down and looked her up and down. “You look gorgeous, lass. Just like your mother. God rest her soul.”
“Thank you, Gregor.” Scarlet brushed a kiss over his bristly cheek. “It’s good to be home. I missed you all.”
“You done working for everyone else now? Are you going to settle down and start learning your father’s business?” Gregor asked, familiarity allowing him his brusqueness.
“I just might be staying a while to help out,” she said. “However, I’m still doing my photography apprenticeship on the weekends. I enjoy taking photos too much to ditch that job. And thankfully, the studio I work with had a part-time opening for me that fits around me being here.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re back from Chicago finally. You need to plant those roots of yours, girl. This business is a Tweedy business. Your dad needs to know it can be passed down to his lass.”
Scarlet tried not to roll her eyes at the all too familiar comments she had heard time and time again. She was well aware that the Tweedy business was going to be all hers one day. Her father had grudgingly made sure though that Scarlet had the opportunities to try her hand at anything else she wanted to explore. From that loosening of the reins, she’d found a surprising aptitude in portrait photography. When her father had lost a painter, the position opened up for Scarlet to come back into the fold. She’d been glad of the chance to take a place in her father’s trade. Her job in Chicago had been long and happy, but the studio there had to close, and Scarlet had been left jobless. In her father’s business, she was happily starting at the bottom. She knew she was going to be expected to learn all she could in preparation for when she took over the whole business.
Scarlet prayed that was a long time coming. Her photography had to be curtailed, but Scarlet was determined to keep it as something more than just a hobby. She knew she’d need a creative outlet aside from painting house interiors. And truth be told, she didn’t have a head for the business her father expected of her. She just hoped he would take that confession well when she had to deliver it.
Lecture over, Gregor cocked his head at her. “You’ve grown into a real beauty. Got yourself a fellow yet?” He brushed back his wild mane of hair as if readying himself for consideration.
Scarlet laughed at him, knowing full well he knew she was a lesbian. “Gregor, should I ever switch teams, you’ll be the first man on my list for an eligible suitor.” The grin he gave her warmed her heart, and Scarlet gave him a swift hug. “I need to go find where all my gear has been stored so I can get started. I’ll see both of you later, no doubt.” She walked away, leaving the men to talk business.
Chapter Two
Scarlet looked over the large row of houses and their surrounding yards with a critical eye. “Someone sure let these places go,” she muttered, taking in the decayed brickwork along the side of the buildings and the wild yards that needed serious work to get them back to some semblance of order. She knew Monica Hughes and Juliet Sullivan would have no problem restoring them to their full potential.
Living with Monica in her apartment had opened Scarlet up to the world of landscaping, and she’d been fascinated by what Monica could conjure up after garnering a few measurements and drawing out a plan. As for Juliet, Scarlet had adored the talented businesswoman on sight. Monica’s dark hair and Gothic style of dress was what Scarlet favored, but Juliet was a true ray of light. Her long blond hair framed a pretty face, and Juliet was such a lovely woman at heart that Scarlet couldn’t help but be drawn to her.
Juliet’s partner, Trent Williams, had lived next door to Scarlet’s grandmother for many years. Scarlet had been fascinated from afar with Trent’s h
andsome good looks as she’d grown up. She’d always known that women would be a source of delight for her, but her heart was always searching for a different kind of woman, someone like Trent. Strong, handsome, yet gentle to the core. She’d watched Trent with Juliet and envied their closeness. Their love for each other was a force that was almost tangible. Scarlet wanted that. She wanted a true love with someone who would let her be strong yet hold her close so she didn’t always have to be.
“All the best girls are taken.” Scarlet sighed as she put her musing aside. She entered the house and jogged up the stairs to the back bedroom where she was set to start work. She whipped out a bandana from her back pocket, gathered up her hair, and tied it back. At her feet were the cans of paint for that room along with her tool bag. She gathered up her equipment and pried open the first can, smiling at the all too familiar smell of fresh paint. First day on the job working for my dad, she thought. I’ve come home at last.
*
The bus ride was long and tedious for Bryce. Every jolt and shudder of the ride made her grimace at the ache in her ribs. Public transportation was going to be her only way of getting around until she could sit in another car without hyperventilating. Her Dodge Neon sat unused outside her apartment building. Since her accident, she’d been physically unable to get behind the wheel. She’d spent three days going out to her car and only once had gotten as far as sitting in the driver’s seat and turning on the engine.
The unmitigated fear that washed over her had left her shaking and scrambling to get out. The enclosed space inside the car, the sound of the engine, all had propelled her out of her seat. She’d been left clutching at her ribs in agony while hanging off the car door fighting for breath. Her sight had diminished to a black fog, and her heart had pounded so loud she was deaf to everything else around her. That included a neighbor who had rushed to her aid and had just stood beside her until Bryce was able to stand again. She hadn’t touched her car since.
Public transportation had taken her to every appointment she had to make and now was taking her back to work. She was grateful the new job was handily situated on a bus route. Using the excuse that her ribs hurt too much for her to be cramped in a car seat wouldn’t stop people from wanting to offer her a well-meaning lift. Bryce hoped that before long she’d be able to get back behind the wheel of her own car. The psychiatrist she’d seen once after the accident had said that it was all perfectly natural and she’d soon let her fears go as she settled back to a routine. Bryce wondered how long soon had to take. She was thankful her tools were already at the site.
She got off the bus at her stop and checked the street for the houses Tweedy Contractors were working on. She recognized Gregor’s big white van emblazoned with the Tweedy logo, and some of her anxiety dissipated. The houses were old enough to let her do something other than the standard drywall she usually worked with. The owners wanted to keep some of the original features so Bryce was looking forward to doing some old-school plastering.
If I can just get back to work, everything will go back to normal again. I can lose myself in it and maybe, just maybe, forget everything else.
Bryce could hear music playing from one of the windows upstairs so she followed the sound to see who was in there. She slipped off her cap. All the guys had been to visit her in the hospital so they were used to her scar. They hadn’t made a big deal over it. The general consensus had been that the women would flock to her side for the dangerous air she now sported. She had appreciated them not fussing over her. They all just wanted her well so she could return to work.
Bryce could hear the sound of drilling on the lower floor, hammering just beyond that, and the heavy pound of a guitar coming from a bedroom down the hall. She followed the music, intrigued by the sound because usually her work mates listened to a radio station filled with golden oldies. She’d lost count of the times she’d had to listen to their off-key accompaniment to one song or another. She’d honestly missed it, however cringe-worthy it had been. This music was heavy guitars mixed with a choir. Who the hell is listening to that?
She poked her head round the door and froze on the spot to stare at the sight before her. High on a scaffold was a woman in worn black jeans that hugged a neat rear end that Bryce couldn’t fail to admire. A black T-shirt was riding up to reveal a slender toned stomach as the woman stretched to paint along the ceiling. Leering skulls were dotted about on a loud red bandana that covered up most of her head. Bryce could see tendrils of red hair, a rich red color like the hottest flame. She watched mesmerized as the woman worked.
Bryce never heard the woman speak to her over the sound of the music and her own distraction. She was jarred out of her reverie by the abrupt ceasing of the music.
“I said, can I help you?”
Bryce saw when the woman noticed her scar. She jammed her cap back on, but it was too late to hide what had already been seen.
“You’ve got to be Bryce, right?” She started down the scaffold toward her and put out a hand. “I’m Scarlet.”
“You’re the boss’s daughter.”
Scarlet rolled her eyes. “I am so much more than that. But yes, I’m currently working for my dad, and no, I don’t get special treatment because of it.”
“I wouldn’t think you would. Your dad is extremely fair.” She shook the proffered hand, enjoying the long, tapered fingers in her own more work-roughened grasp. She had to look up a little to see Scarlet. She guessed she was at least two inches taller than Bryce’s own five foot six. Scarlet had the most fascinating shade of hazel eyes that sparkled at Bryce as she did her own perusing. She was makeup free, and Bryce could make out a faint smattering of freckles across her softy rounded cheeks. She was prettier than anyone Bryce had ever seen before, and her eyes fell to watch Scarlet’s smiling mouth as she talked to her.
“Please tell me you’ve been released from the doctor’s care and can come back to work to plaster the walls I need to paint? The guy who did this one did an okay job, but I’m told you are a master.”
Bryce ran her fingertips over the bare wall. “Let’s hope I can recapture that mastery. My shoulder is still a bit bothersome, but I can’t sit around at home any longer.”
“Going stir crazy?”
“Kind of,” Bryce said. Most of her time spent recuperating had been sitting shell-shocked after coming home from the hospital alone to find her newly moved in girlfriend moved out. The note left on the kitchen table had told Bryce that Gerri just couldn’t cope with an invalid and that the scar Bryce now bore was too much for her to take. Gerri had couched the words in pity, but Bryce knew her all too well. Now that Bryce was no longer the handsome young buck that had driven Gerri to all the right places, she was to be tossed aside so that Gerri could find another meal ticket. One with fewer scars. Bryce hadn’t been heartbroken to see her go, but her timing could have been better.
She pulled at her cap, feeling the need to hide.
“I need to go find Victor. I can come back to work tomorrow.” She looked around the room. “Take your time with this room today, and I’ll try to get the rest done for you as quickly as I’m able.”
Scarlet rested her hands on her hips and regarded Bryce closely. “Well,” she said, drawling the word out purposely, “I’ll try not to rush, but I’m telling you, there’s nothing more boring than watching paint dry.”
Bryce shook her head at Scarlet’s humor. “I can see you’re going to be a riot.”
“I’m here all week. Be sure to come see the show,” Scarlet said, bowing theatrically and favoring Bryce with a beautiful smile.
Bryce backed out of the room and went to find her boss. Returning to work might be the welcome distraction she needed after all. She heard the steady beat of the music as it was turned back on. Its rhythm was strangely soothing to Bryce’s frayed nerves.
Chapter Three
Juliet Sullivan was puttering around the kitchen preparing the evening meal when she heard the front door opening.
“
Hey, babe,” she called over her shoulder as she swiftly dried off her hands so she could welcome her partner home.
Trent Williams walked straight into her arms and gave her a long, lingering kiss. She groaned when they finally pulled apart, and she nuzzled her face into Juliet’s hair. “God, you smell good. I missed you so much today.”
“I missed you too.” Trent slipped from her hold and stepped back a little to run her hand over Juliet’s belly.
“Hello, baby.” Trent squatted and pressed a kiss to Juliet’s seven-month-pregnant bump. “Hope you’ve been good for Mommy today.”
“The baby has been fine. I’m the one who kept you up all night.”
Trent grinned. “Ah, I remember the days when that had a totally different connotation. It meant us tangling up the sheets to all hours engaged in some hot and sweaty lovemaking.”
“Whereas now it refers to me keeping you awake all last night while I suffered the agonies of damned heartburn.” Juliet feathered her fingers through Trent’s short black hair. “I’m sorry I kept you awake too.”
Trent got up off the floor and cuddled Juliet to her as best she could, given the bump between them. “Hey, I said I’d be with you every step of the way with this pregnancy, and I have been. Good or bad.”
“Sure, but you got the fun things like the cravings,” Juliet teased her, loving the fact that when her pregnancy had started Trent had been the one who had developed a hankering for some very unusual foods. Her yearning for doughnuts had escalated to the more elaborate the better. Juliet had lost count of how many times Trent’s best friend, Elton Simons, had told her he’d had to do a doughnut run while they were at work together at Gamerz Paradise. She knew he’d gotten adept at recognizing Trent’s sympathetic morning sickness and had hastily gotten goodies for her to combat the nausea. In a show of solidarity, he had joined Trent in every treat and was still complaining about how many extra pounds he had gained.
