He purrs into my skin as another feline wraps its furry body around my ankle. I bend down to scratch the top of the calico’s head. Mr. Wooderson doesn’t like to be picked up.
I’ve named all our cats after Matthew McConaughey characters. These two loves are Steve Edison from The Wedding Planner and David Wooderson from Dazed and Confused. Three more little guys are hiding somewhere.
My mom is obsessed with cats. And by obsessed, I mean she’s a balls-to-the-wall groupie over them. I love cats, but Pam Paige is a little cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, if you know what I mean.
Case in point, the kitty city takes over half of the living room. You’ve heard of a kitty condo? Well, there is an entire world dedicated to her fur babies, including a wheel for them to take their daily laps and seven towers for them to scratch, pounce, and play. There’s even a bed for each cat. You might not think that’s so crazy, but over our fireplace mantel is a collage of every cat we’ve ever had—dead and alive.
The only person who has more wall presence in this house is Luke. He’s the favorite, being the only boy and all. Next is Emma. She’s the perfect one. Photos of her playing the violin since she was ten years old are spread around the house. As for me, there’s a picture or two around. I don’t take it personally. I know they love me.
“Morning, sunshine!” Dad says as I enter the kitchen and put Eddie on the floor.
“Morning, Bob.”
Yes, I call my parents by their first names. It’s not out of disrespect. It’s quite the opposite. They’re real people who have lives other than being my mom and dad. I think that should be acknowledged.
I grab a roll off the oven pan. It’s hot and gooey. I kiss his cheek and take a seat at the table.
Mom walks in through the back door, her gardening tools in hand. She’s wearing a sun visor and a pink T-shirt with a cat on it. It says, My prayers are said in CATholic. I bought it for her for Mother’s Day.
She looks surprised to see me. “Hi, baby. I didn’t know you were home. Your car’s not in the driveway.”
I stuff my mouth with a burning hot cinnamon roll and mumble, “I drank last night, so I asked Victoria for a ride home.” One of my best features is my inability to lie. Talk around the truth? Sure. Lie? Never.
“That was very responsible of you. I’ll drive you to get it later.”
Luke walks into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing clean basketball shorts and an undershirt.
I rapidly suck in and blow out through my mouth to cool the burn on my tongue. “No worries. Luke’s gonna drive me today.”
Mom grabs a glass, fills it with milk, and hands it to me. “Here you go, sweetie.”
Gulping the milk, I look at Luke, who is holding his hands up like he’s riding a motorcycle and revving the engine. I squint my eyes at him.
“Good news.” Dad reaches across the counter and hands me a slip of paper. “Grandma wired the money to the McConaughey Fund. You have another forty grand.”
Luke lets out a low whistle. “Who knew Grams was loaded?”
Mom tsks at Luke. “She’s not loaded. She’s just helping her granddaughter fulfill a dream.”
“Besides,” Dad says, grabbing a paring knife, “after Leah’s done paying off Paulie for the remainder, that will be a lucrative business.”
All this talk of how much money is going into this bar makes me antsy. I know the books of that bar like the back of my hand. I know how long I’ll have to run it before I can start making a profit. Doesn’t make it less frightening though.
“Maybe Grams has a few more dollars to make my dreams come true,” Luke says. He’s eyeing me again, making that stupid motorcycle sign.
I mouth the word, No, to him.
With a rise of his brows, Luke turns to Dad. “Did you hear about Leah’s night?”
Dad looks up from slicing strawberries. “No. Anything exciting happen?”
Just then, the doorbell rings, and I quickly stand up. “I’ll get it!”
On my way out, I flip Luke the bird, and he holds his wrists up like they’re cuffed together, reminding me of my eventful night.
I open the front door, and suddenly, Luke is no longer the problem.
My eyes instantly collide with a man’s torso, clad in a tight orange T-shirt that accentuates his muscular chest. He’s wearing jeans and construction boots, and when I look up to the top of his six-foot frame, he’s wearing aviator sunglasses that reflect my dumbstruck expression.
“Adam.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Why are you here?”
He lowers his chin and peers at me from under his sunglasses. “You don’t have a car, and your community service begins at ten.”
I try to close the door, so no one can see who is outside when Mom pops up from behind me.
“Who’s here? Oh, Adam! What a surprise.” She places a hand to her chest. “Is everything okay? You’re not here on duty, are you?”
I snap my head at Adam, who looks back at my mom with a smile.
“No, ma’am. I’m here on my own time.”
Mom relaxes her arm. “Well then, welcome. It’s so good to see you. You haven’t been over here since you were, what? A junior?”
“I was a senior, Mrs. Paige, and I’m here to pick up Leah. She’s agreed to volunteer at Homes for All Souls with me.”
Mom’s chin drops to her chest. “Leah? My Leah is going to build houses?”
“Apparently, she is looking for a little rehabilitation.” The inflection in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.
I turn to her and flippantly answer, “Like I’d say no to gawking at hot construction boys all day. I just want to watch them play with their hammers.”
She hits me on the arm. “You’re so fresh.” Turning to Adam, she uses her arm to motion him inside. “Come in. Bob made cinnamon rolls.”
I try to intervene. “No, Adam has to—”
“I’d love some,” he says, entering our house and walking straight past me.
I stomp my foot and then follow them to the kitchen.
As soon as we enter, Luke takes one look at Adam and says out loud, “Oh, shit.” Then, he covers his mouth with his hand to hide a smile.
“Hello, Luke. Mr. Paige.” Adam is so formal. Way too formal for this house. His deep voice croons through our yellow wallpapered kitchen.
Dad nearly drops his knife as he looks from Adam to me and then back to Adam, obviously wondering what the hell he’s doing here. “Hello there, Officer. Can I make you a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, please.” Adam takes a seat on a stool by the kitchen island. “Cream, no sugar.”
“Yes, sir,” Dad replies awkwardly. Even he is a little intimidated.
Mom gives me a raised-brow expression that speaks all the thoughts I don’t want her to be thinking. I shake my head, ignoring her. She clearly doesn’t get the hint.
“So, Adam, how have you been? How’s your mother?” she asks.
“She’s good. Keeping busy at the gas company. Landon is going to college in the fall, so she has her hands full with getting him ready.”
I can’t believe Landon is going to college. When I used to visit their house, he was a little kid with a mop of brown hair and those rubber glasses that made kids look like they were wearing swim goggles. He’d play handball in the driveway for hours, making up these silly games. I’ve seen him around town, but I didn’t realize how old he’d gotten. It’s making my twenty-three years feel ancient.
“My mom asks about Leah all the time,” Adam adds.
My stomach oddly flutters.
“I let her know I’m keeping an eye on her.”
My eyes shoot to Adam, who is acting as if what he just said is normal. Luke is incredulously looking at me from his corner of the room.
Dad nods to Adam and points at me with his paring knife. “Glad to have someone keeping an eye on this one. She can get into an awful lot of trouble.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about,” Adam says. “It’s the men who wait for
her outside the bar. A pretty girl walking to her car at three in the morning isn’t safe.”
“How do you know what time I get out?” I ask.
“See, Leah?” Dad interrupts. “I’ve told you, the first thing we’re doing is installing a video camera in the parking lot.”
Mom places her hand back on her chest. “I never thought of that. Do you really think she’s unsafe? Bob, we need to look into this.”
“Guys, I’m fine. I’m—”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Paige,” Adam says, looking her straight in the eye. “She’s safe.” The way he delivers his words, it’s as if he can assure her of my safety for the rest of my life.
“Well,” Dad says, extending his hand to Adam, “it’s good to know Leah has a good man in her life.”
I slap my hand to my head. Adam is giving them the wrong impression. He’s not in my life at all. He’s just imposing himself for his own sick gratification.
As Adam and my dad shake hands, I swear, my dad looks like he’s going to cry.
I grab Adam’s arm and pull him away. “We’re late,” I say as I walk out of the kitchen.
I’m halfway through the living room when Adam barks at me, “You have to change first.”
I turn around. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“You can’t work in those shoes, and that outfit is too nice for a construction site.”
I look down at my romper. Too nice? What does he expect me to be doing today?
Not in the mood to argue, I turn around and head upstairs. I pick out my shortest pair of comfortable shorts, a tight fitted T-shirt, and Keds.
When I get to the bottom of the stairs, he instantly barks at me again, “Change.”
“What’s wrong with this?”
“You’ll cut up your legs.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Adam slowly shakes his head and presses his heels into the floor.
I stomp my feet, hard, as I march up the stairs and put on a pair of capri leggings that hug my ass just right. I don’t even wait for his remark. Instead, I walk down, past him, my platinum blonde hair whipping in the air, and out the door.
His black GMC pickup, complete with mud splattered down on the sides, is rough and masculine, rugged and kinda sexy. I look back at Adam. His jeans are clean yet marred with permanent paint stains, and there’s a small tear in the knee. His construction boots look like they’ve seen their days of work.
The sight of him and the dirty truck he drives is a far cry from the prim and proper guy who strolls the streets in a uniform and drives a police cruiser.
I climb into the cab of the truck and buckle up. When he gets in, he checks his mirrors and all blind spots before driving off.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we turn onto the highway.
Insert rude silence from callous man in the driver’s seat.
Fine. I didn’t want to talk to him anyway.
I lean forward and put on the radio. Adam reaches forward and turns it off.
“What the hell?” I shriek.
“I don’t like music on when I’m driving,” he states, eyes on the road.
“Do you get easily distracted? Can’t multitask, Mr. Badass Cop?” I’m teasing him, but from his look, I can see he doesn’t like to be teased. “Whatever. I need to catch up on some shut-eye anyway. Wake me up when we’re there.”
I lean my seat back, prop my feet up on the dashboard, and close my eyes. My face is turned into the sun, the rays beating down on me through the window, when a warm hand brushes my thigh, causing the backs of my legs to tingle from the way the fingers linger on my skin. My eyes pop open. When I look up, Adam is shaking his head.
“Shoes off the dash.” His hand pulls my leg, forcing my foot to drop to the floor.
I lower my other leg and then toe my shoes off my feet. With a smug smile on my face, I return my feet to the dashboard, sans shoes, lean back, and close my eyes.
He doesn’t seem to have anything to say about my socked feet on his dash, and I’m not about to open my eyes to find out if it bothers him.
chapter FOUR
I could have been sleeping for five minutes or fifty minutes. I wouldn’t know by the way my shoulder is being shaken.
“We’re here,” Adam says and then exits the car.
I rub my eyes, take a wide-mouthed yawn, and look out the window. I have no clue where in the hell we are. All I see is an open field with three homes in various stages of build. One is just a foundation with the framing of a home. The next is a house with siding and windows but no front porch or steps to get in. The last is what appears to be a nearly finished home with a dark wooden deck in front and white columns accenting the front porch.
I slide on my sneakers and check my reflection in the visor mirror. My pale blue eyes are slightly red from lack of sleep, but I look pretty good, considering I got four hours sleep last night. Stepping out of the car, I indulge in a long stretch.
Adam is ahead of me, walking toward the center house with the siding up. I follow him and stop when we reach a worker wearing a Homes for All Souls T-shirt. I take one extra step forward, so I’m technically in front of Adam.
“Hey, man!” The guy gives Adam an excited smile and puts out his hand.
The two exchange one of those very brolike handshakes, including a chest-to-chest encounter and a tap on each other’s backs.
“I see you brought a volunteer,” the guy says when he sees me.
“This is Leah.” Adam nods to me. “She’s been assigned community service. One hundred hours.”
The guy whistles through his teeth. “Damn. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Drunk-driving,” Adam interjects.
I do everything not to lurch for his throat.
“Leah, this is Toby Kefler. He helps run Homes for All Souls.”
I’m still giving Adam the evil glare when Toby reaches forward and says, “Pleasure to meet you, Leah. No matter the reason, we’re happy to have you.”
Despite my annoyance with Adam, I give Toby a polite smile. He’s tall and skinny with shaggy brown hair and a kind face. He reminds me of Rory O’Toole, the guy Suzanne was making out with last night.
I shake my head at the thought of last night. Hanging with the girls feels like it was ten years ago. So much has happened since then.
“Come on,” Adam says out loud, talking at me, not to me. He goes into the house, not bothering to help me climb in since there are no entry steps.
Once inside, I am immediately hit with the scent of sawdust. The air is filled with tiny particles, and there is the loud sound of a circular saw being used by a guy in the corner. The inside of the walls are exposed to show electrical wires, copper pipes, and white plastic plumbing that must have just been installed.
I turn and see Adam’s orange shirt walking up the stairs. I take the stairs as well, and instead of following him down the hall, I walk into a room lined with wood beams and a large pile of Sheetrock on the floor. Two guys are hammering, and I take a moment to appreciate the fine specimens wielding those hammers. Wouldn’t mind getting hammered myself by the one—
“Ahem.”
A clearing of a throat catches my attention. I turn my head to Adam, who is looking at me with raised brows that are popping up from his sunglasses.
“I think we should start in another room.”
I squint my eyes and pinch my lips at him. Killjoy.
We walk into the adjacent room, a bedroom perhaps. There is no one in here, only some boards of Sheetrock. The windows with their Pella stickers still on them are open, letting in the morning breeze, airing out the smell of construction that is starting to stuff up my nose.
Adam leaves the room for a few minutes and comes back with a toolbox and a black case. Setting the case on the floor, he crouches down, opens it up, and hands me the screw gun. I hit the trigger button, and the thing roars to life.
“Careful with that. I do
n’t need to bring you to the emergency room.” He takes the drill gun out of my hands.
I reach forward and take it back. “I know how to use a drill.”
He gives me a sideways glance as he opens the box for some screws.
I wish there were music in here or something. His stoic personality is really making me want to talk about nonsense, and talking to Adam about nonsense just to fill the air is not something I should be doing right now.
He hands me a handful of screws and then walks over to the pile of Sheetrock. He lifts a board like it weighs an ounce and holds it up against the wall. “I’ll hold the board while you screw it in. Make sure you—hey, will you wait until I tell you where to drill? Don’t just start screwing wherever you want.”
When my screw is in the drywall, I start on the next one. I know to only screw to the wall studs, spacing the screws twelve inches apart. Ignoring Adam’s comments, I put the screws in until the board is secure.
When I’m done, I stand up straight and look him in the eye. “What are you staring at? Get another board.”
Adam looks back at me for a beat longer than he usually does before getting the next board. When he holds it up, we realize there’s an electrical outlet on the wall, so we’ll have to cut a hole for it in the Sheetrock.
“I don’t have a tape measure in here. I’ll be right back.” Adam props the board against the wall and leaves me alone in the room again.
I take the opportunity to look at my fingernails. The polish is chipping. Maybe I’ll get a fun orange color this time. I should probably do my toes, too.
I drum my fingers on my thigh and wait for Adam to return. He’s not coming back anytime soon, so I walk into the room next door where the cute guys are working.
Giving my sweetest smile, I ask, “Do you boys happen to have a tape measure and a utility knife I can borrow?”
The more attractive one reaches into his tool belt. “You can have mine. Just don’t forget to stop back by and say good-bye before you go.”
He gives me a wink, which I return, and then I walk back to my work area.
Alone, I start measuring the wall and then the drywall, marking where I need to make an incision for the outlet. Using the utility knife, I make a clean rectangle and blow off the dust from the perfect cut.
Wrecked Page 4
