“He had an emergency over at the animal shelter, but I’m the general contractor.”
“Great.” He looked around again, glancing at Samantha’s crew as they taped and spackled at the other end of the hall.
She really needed this inspection over with as soon as possible. The painters were on loan from another project— she only had them through the end of the week, and they still had to paint the porch, patch the walls, and paint the downstairs hall once this inspection was finished.
Crappity-crap. There was too much to do and not enough time to get it done. Too many moving parts. Too many things to keep her eyes on. She rubbed her forehead, trying to dull the pain spreading from her eyes to her temples. She hadn’t had this bad a headache since she’d been called Sammy. Ski. “I need to grab the property representative.” Babysitter. Gorgeous dreamy-eyed babysitter. What the hell was that? “He asked to be included.” She smiled at the inspector.
Johnson nodded. “All right.”
“Barry.” She waved her hand, and he hustled right over to them. “Can you please escort Mr. Johnson out to my truck? I have some water in the cooler in the back.”
“Sure, boss.” He grabbed the inspector’s hand and pumped it. “Doug, how are the kids?”
The men walked outside laughing like long lost BFFs. Samantha looked for somewhere to stash her tablet, but everyplace looked like an accident waiting to happen. Coat closet. She opened the door and stepped in, placing her lifeline on the tippy-top shelf. She stepped back out in the hall and froze when she heard the inspector clear his throat right outside the house.
“Let’s be frank here, Barry,” Doug said after a moment of silence. “Was Bob Schmidt really on site for this project?”
Samantha’s heart stopped. Why was he asking that?
Barry apparently agreed with her— what a shock. “Why?”
“Your site manager was poking around with some of the wires when I got here. Let’s just say I know Bob Schmidt’s work, all right?”
Silence. Barry was silent. This was how he’d get her. He’d say she did the work when Bob wasn’t here, and let the inspector assume the worst. It wouldn’t matter she’d worked with Bob. It wouldn’t matter she’d followed the rules. One word, and she’d never be able to work as an electrician again.
“She was checking Bob’s work.” No animosity or venom in his tone. Apparently, trying to destroy her was fine, but not in front of the inspector. Her stomach unraveled, and her breath left in a large whoosh.
“Checking Bob’s work? He has twenty-seven years of experience. How old is she? Twelve?”
Samantha peered around the door to watch the men. Barry laughed, and then threw up his hands and sighed. “Now you see what I have to deal with without Bryan.”
“Hopefully he’ll come back soon.”
The men drank deep from their water bottles. If she wasn’t so damn thankful Barry hadn’t stabbed her in the back, she’d slap him for that now you see what I have to deal with…
Whatever.
She ran up the stairs to Ski’s room. Crap. He didn’t technically tell her which room was his. Of course, she’d happened to see him walk into his room a few times. And maybe she'd seen him through the window once or twice. But it wasn’t like she was looking for him or anything.
She knocked on the door.
Silence.
She knocked again. She didn't have time to play hide and seek. She turned the doorknob, and it was unlocked. Go in. Don’t go in. It seemed wrong to just walk into his room. But if she didn't, and Ski missed the inspector, she would never hear the end of it. She inched open the door, just wide enough to call inside. “Mister Kaminski?”
Silence.
“Ski?”
Crappity-crap. She threw open the door and looked around. She could definitely see the masculine touches in the room. A small couch faced a large coffee table and a big-screen TV on one half of the room, with papers stacked on the coffee table. A half wall divided the room, and on the other side stood three beds. Two were stripped to the bare mattress. But one was immaculate. Military corners on the made-up bedspread. Surprising, given the stale beer and pizza smell embedded in the walls of the house.
She always figured jocks were the messy sort. But with the exception of the paperwork on the coffee table, this room was spotless. No food wrappers. No empty cans of beer. Really surprising. It was almost like a grown man lived here.
Too bad grown man was an oxymoron, stressing the moron.
“Ski?” she called one last time. She needed to get back to Mister Johnson before Barry bored him with construction stories of old and he ran away.
Across the hall, the click of the bathroom door was followed by a large body— make that a large, almost-naked body— strolling out of the bathroom. She watched a drip slide off his chin— my God, his shoulders are broad— and slither down his abs to the towel at his narrow waist. His abs. His abs were ridiculous. Six pack didn't quite explain it. She had an overwhelming urge to do an old-school load of laundry, running her hands up and down the hard ridges. The room was really warm, wasn’t it?
“Hey.” Did she really just say that? How pathetic.
“Hey.”
“Um… well. They’re here.”
“Dey?” His accent. It was so sexy. And kind of irresistible. “Who’s dey?” Ski smirked. He looked so adorable when he smirked.
Crappity-crap. Sexy? Irresistible? Adorable? Shoot her now. Time to focus. Focus on the job. Not on the David statue in front of her. “They. The inspector. He’s here, and he’s in a hurry.”
“I’ll throw on clothes and head down.”
“Okay.” She watched his muscles ripple. Who knew muscles could actually ripple? She rubbed a hand over her mouth. Was she drooling? Please don’t let her be drooling. That would suck. She stared at him as he stood there, not moving.
“Want to watch?” He smirked.
Yes. Oh please, yes.
“I can promise good show, but the inspector will have to wait.” He picked up a pair of jeans from the arm of the couch.
No, dammit. “I’m leaving.” Her eyes inhaled the body in front of her one last time. Maybe she should rethink the no-serious-relationships rule she had going on. She’d really like to get serious with them abs. Who wouldn’t? She was only human. She turned to the door. Evil thoughts. The man would be her undoing if she didn’t get her head on straight and lose these damn evil thoughts.
~»ΨΡ«~
Chapter Five
Ski
SKI WATCHED as the inspector poked at the holes in the walls, pulling wires and writing things down on the clipboard. The guy made his way through the house, and ended on the new front porch. Ski hadn’t been around for the inspection of the porch, but he wondered if it was always this intense.
“Well, I got some bad news.” The inspector’s pen worked frantically over the piece of paper. He sat on the step that led down to the front walk. “You used indoor conduit here on the porch.”
“But it’ll be covered by the overhang.” She looked at the offending cable. “You can use indoor cable if it’s covered by an overhang.”
“Who told you that?” Doug Johnson laughed.
“My school.”
“Well, honey, you might want to get a refund. That’s not how things work in Cedar Glen.” He handed her a bill for today’s visit. Ski couldn’t make out the amount, but from what he’d seen so far of the construction business it was probably a lot.
Anger. Frustration. Disgust. All her emotions stomped across her face as she leaned against the house. “I can get this done tonight. When can we schedule a re-inspection?”
The guy rolled a finger over a calendar on his clipboard. “The earliest I can get back is Friday.”
“Nothing sooner?” She tried to hide the aggravation, but her face was a wide-open book.
“Friday at three. Take it or leave it.” The inspector stood up, glancing at his watch.
“Take it.”
; “Good. See you then.” He walked toward his car.
Ski watched Samantha pick at the wires and drop her forehead to the brick.
“Dammit.” Barry whipped out his phone and punched some numbers. He stomped toward the side of the house. “Your father would never let this happen. This is what happens when children are left to run a business.”
Samantha cleared her throat. Was she crying? Gowno, Ski was going to have to kick the shit out of the elderly today. “He was out of line,” he told her in a low voice.
“No. He wasn’t. I messed up. I installed this. I should have double-checked with Bob before I did anything.”
“Ms. Thunder, we have the appliances you ordered.” A man walked through the front yard, dodging plastic and tools.
She stiffened her back and made an attempt at a smile. A poor attempt. “The kitchen is at the back of the house.”
“I’ll show them where to go.” Ski jumped at the chance to help. To help Samantha. To help remove the worry pinching her eyebrows together.
He led appliance guy around the house to the back door, and the guy pulled out a measuring tape and checked the opening. “Your new fridge won’t fit through this door.”
“How about the sliding glass doors?” Ski pointed to the glass doors further down along the side of the building. Two years ago they’d driven a go-cart through those monster doors. Only cracked one pane of glass. Samantha still hadn’t fixed that yet, but he figured it was on her list of things to do.
“Perfect,” the man said, so over they went to the sliders. They both stared at the dusty glass. On the other side, furniture was stacked to the ceiling. The pool table, ping pong table and the bar were shoved together. Metal and plastic chairs were stacked on top, forming a large pyramid covered with plastic sheeting. Okay, maybe not.
The delivery guy shook his head. “We’ll never make it through there.”
“There’s the front door.” Ski led the way back to the front of the house, back to where he’d left Samantha. “Would that work?”
The man measured the door and nodded. “This will work.” He walked toward the truck, waving to his two helpers. They promptly put on gloves and loaded the behemoth fridge onto a hand truck.
Ski hung out and watched as they rolled the handcart up to the porch and popped it up one step. The trio of lifters popped it up another step and then onto the porch, rolling the handcart and fridge through the front door. They headed to the kitchen, stopping to move the old refrigerator out of the way.
“Will you be taking this one with you?” Ski twitched with the urge to help as the men swirled around getting the job done. Disconnect the old. Reconnect the new.
“Yep. We’re full service.” One of the men plugged in the new appliance and shifted it into place as another one handed Ski a piece of paper. “We need your signature saying you accepted the delivery.”
Ski signed the form and the men and the handcart headed out toward the front door with the old fridge. A nice, excitement-free delivery. He could totally do this. He pulled the plastic and tape from the new appliance and opened the door. Cool air snuck up his arm. Ahhhh.
Samantha walked in the kitchen door. “Thanks for the help. I needed a break.”
“No problem.” He smiled and handed her the form he’d signed.
She seemed to be calmer. The stress behind her eyes faded as she ran a hand over the outside of the open door. “This is a great model. My last kitchen customer ordered the same one. She said it’s the top of the line. Did you know that?”
“No, our president picked it out.” But knowing him, next year the frat brothers would be paying for his need to have top of the line in higher dues. Jackass.
“It’s nice.” She smiled. Actually smiled at Ski. It was like the Loch Ness monster. He knew it existed, but he’d never seen it himself. It was amazing, and then it was gone, her head dropping to look down at her tablet. She’d gone for a whole hour without the damn thing, but now it was back.
“What the fuck!” Barry burst into the kitchen. “What the hell happened to the porch?”
The porch?
“What?” Samantha followed Barry out the door and Ski followed Samantha.
“Oh, no.” She pushed the handrail back into place, but the thing had torn away from the porch support, and a crack ran for about a foot along the length. A couple of the things underneath— Ski had no idea what you called them— were cracked, too. “What the hell happened?” She turned to Ski. Her hardened eyes and squared shoulders said so many things. All of them R-rated, and not in a good way.
“I don’t know. They brought the fridge in through here no problem.”
“What about the old one? Did they go this way?” Her eyes stared right through him, picking him to shreds.
“Well, yeah...”
“So you signed this” —she shook the form at him— “but didn’t make sure they took out the old appliance without any issues.”
“Why is he telling you what happened? Where were you?” Barry’s face was purple again, but this time Ski was having trouble caring. Barry’s asshole tendencies might make the old bastard sick down the road, but right now? Right now, those tendencies were hurting Samantha and pissing off Ski. Because somehow Ski fucked up. Somehow this was his fault.
“I ran inside.” Her voice was thin as glass.
“For the love of God, what is wrong with you?” Barry leaned toward Samantha.
“Enough!” Ski had to jump in. If this guy laid one finger on her head, Ski was going to lay him out. No questions.
But Barry didn’t get any closer. “You’re right this is enough. First you fail the inspection, and now this. It’s like Romper Room around here. This is going to put us behind by more than a day or two unless you planned on redoing the porch construction. I sure as hell hadn’t planned on it. Dammit.” He punched in a phone number and lifted the phone to his ear. “Bryan, I know you’re on vacation, but we need to talk.”
Barry walked into the house, growling into the phone, and looking at Samantha’s drooping shoulders made Ski want to take back any good words about the man. He was an ass, hanging Samantha out to dry. He’d actually tattled on her. Tattled. Like a five-year-old. The urge to beat the crap out of the old bastard reared its ugly head.
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I’ll fix it.” He really would do anything. Not that he knew how to fix it, but they had instructions for stuff like this online, right?
“No. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone with the crew.” She slid her fingers up and down her tablet. “I let my dad down.”
She dropped to the top step of the porch, and the look on her face just about broke his heart. The porch and his heart, both broken now, and he had no idea how to put them back to together. He hated that most of all.
“Samantha. Your father needs to talk to you.” Barry walked out the door waving his cell phone.
“Give me a minute.” She pulled in a long gust of air. “Crap. Crap. Crap.” A glare of volcanic proportions met Ski’s innocent hand as he tried to help her up. “Why are you still here?” She stood and wiped her hands on her jeans.
“I want to help.” Ski slid his hands into his front pockets.
“You’ve helped enough. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
The words cut, and the tone shriveled his— well, something. Why did he need a reason to be here? He lived here. “Just trying to find out what’s going on with my home.”
“Well, things are under control.”
“Really? Because things don’t look under control.” Had he just said that? Pretty soon he’d be in line to kick his own ass.
“You know what? I get enough of that between my father and Barry. I don’t need it from you.” Her snarl grew. “I’ll get my job done, Mister Kaminski. Of course, it would go a lot quicker without constant mindless interruptions from the babysitter.”
“Well, don’t let me interrupt you then, Samantha.” He walked past her and stomped through the fro
nt door. The smell of chemicals and rubber filled his nose.
He needed out. Out of this cesspool of noise, stench, and anger. He was through with her. He tried. He failed. It was time to just move on. If it was only that easy.
~»ΨΡ«~
Chapter Six
Ski
THE SUN streamed in the back windows of the house on Friday morning, the construction noise a dull roar in the background, and the view of Samantha a dull blade in his back. He’d made a point of avoiding her— he didn’t need to hear again how he was in the way or wasn’t wanted. He got that message loud and clear the first time.
Her black hair shone as she sat on her bumper and wrote in her tablet. She looked amazing in this light. Hell, in any light. He was so screwed.
“Enjoying the view?”
Ski spun around to stare at his frat brother Ryan. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi to you, too. Yes, the ride up was nice, very scenic. Thanks for asking.” Ryan waved a hand. “The place looks great.”
“Yeah, Sammy has everything under control.”
“Sammy?” Ryan asked, and of course that meant she walked in just in time to hear that. Could his luck possibly suck more?
“What have I got under control?” Samantha looked Ryan up and down.
Great. Ski could almost see her comparing Ryan to him. Ryan had on jeans and a button-up shirt and his perfect brown hair was in place— well, as in place as Ryan’s hair got. He looked like he at least tried, though. Ski, on the other hand, was standing there in sweats and T-shirt, with bed head. Homeless men looked more put together.
“Hi— Samantha, right? I’m Ryan Kent. We talked last month.”
“Ryan. The deposit guy. Nice to finally meet you in person.” Samantha was all business, playing cordial hostess. Ski recognized that particular tone of voice. His mom used it at every doctor-party function his father dragged her to.
“Would you like to see the progress?” Samantha smiled at Ryan and Ski tried not to growl.
“Sure. So how’s it going with my boy here? Is he driving you crazy with his freakish intelligence?” Ryan’s eyes went from Ski to Samantha. He saw something. He must. He was always way too perceptive.
Major Renovations (Ritter University #1) Page 3
