Without returning my hello, he said, "You're early." He said it like it was a bad thing.
"I know." I lifted my chin. "I wanted to take a look around."
"And you didn't do that already?"
I stiffened. I knew exactly what he was getting at. "If you mean the other night, sure I looked around, but with not with an eye toward remodeling."
He gave me a dubious look. "Uh-huh."
"And," I continued, "after you listed all of those problems, I figured I should look again, and maybe see if I have any ideas."
He eyed me with zero enthusiasm. "About what?"
"You know, like what to do with the house."
His jaw clenched. "Right."
I sighed. "Look, if we're going to be working together, don’t you think it would be better if we got along?"
"Not for me."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean, I don't care what you do," he said. "Just stay out of my way." And with that, he returned his attention to the nearest garden hose. He gave it a hard yank, and the hose's other end flew out of the bathroom.
Watching this, it suddenly dawned on me that the hoses and other stuff hadn't been here the other night, when rainwater had been pouring down into the hallway.
In fact, when Brody had hustled me away from the disaster zone, water had still been trickling down onto the wooden floor.
But sometime since then, he'd rigged up a system to minimize further water-damage.
I asked, "When did you do that?"
As he coiled up the hose, he replied, "Do what?"
"The hoses and everything. The other night, it was still raining in here when we left."
"So?"
"So…" I tried to think. "Did you come back? I mean, after you took me to the house across the street?"
He didn't pause in his work. "I might've."
I frowned. "But it was so late."
"So?" he said again.
My gaze drifted to the bucket of rags. "Did you wipe up the water, too?"
"Well, I wasn't gonna let it just sit there."
For a long awful moment, I surveyed the scene in front of me – the hoses, the rags, and the guy who'd been using them. Just how long had all of this taken?
Minutes?
Or hours?
Either way, I felt like some sort of slacker. "You should've had me help you. I mean, I was right here."
At this, he stopped working and gave me a hard look. "Yeah. And you weren't supposed to be."
As if I needed the reminder. "Well maybe I didn't know that."
"Sure you did."
"Not for certain," I said. "The last I knew, my cousin lived here. And I was supposed to meet him."
"Uh-huh."
Obviously, Brody still didn't believe me. But I continued anyway. "So like I already explained, it's not like I was squatting or anything."
With a sarcastic smile, he said, "Sure, I believe you."
"Yeah, well you should," I told him. "So who owns the house now?"
"Me. Like I said."
"You personally?"
In a tight voice, he replied, "As opposed to what?"
"Well…" I said, thinking out loud. "If the house is going to be featured on the show, I'm thinking that maybe the network owns it. Or your tool company. Or an investor."
"Yeah," he said. "And the investor's me."
I bit my lip. This wasn't what I wanted to hear. "You personally?"
"What, you wanna see the deed?"
It was the same thing he'd offered the other night. I didn't need the deed. What I needed was the truth. "I just want to know."
He crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge like they always did. "Why?"
"Well…" Again, I hesitated. "Maybe I'm wondering if I'll have the chance to buy it. You know, when it's done."
"Forget it," he laughed.
But I wasn't laughing. "Why?"
"Because you can't afford it."
My cheeks warmed at the bluntness of his statement, even more so because it was true. "Well, maybe I can't afford it now," I admitted. "But after the bonus—"
"It'll still be out of your range."
Damn it. Probably he was right. The house was huge, historic, and located directly on the beach. Plus, it was being fixed up as part of a famous TV show. The publicity wouldn’t make it any cheaper.
Still, I refused to let it go. "But I'd have a down payment."
"Doesn't matter," he said. "The owner's not selling."
"You mean you?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
Just then, I heard the muffled sounds of car doors slamming in the driveway. This was quickly followed by the sounds of voices – male and female.
Brody cursed under his breath.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Do me a favor," he said. "Go stall 'em, will ya?"
"Why?"
"Just do it, alright?" Without waiting for my reply, he began coiling up the next hose. When I made no move, he said, "Or if you want, I'll stall them. And you hide this stuff."
Hide it? Seriously? "But wait. Why would anyone need to—"
"Just stall them," he said. "And I'll tell you later."
"You promise?"
"I'll tell you one thing," he said. "I won't tell you jack if they get in here before I'm done."
This was all the encouragement I needed. Without further protest, I turned and scrambled toward the stairway, giving Brody one final glance before my feet carried me out of sight. The last I saw of him, he had two hoses coiled over his shoulder and was reaching for the bucket of rags.
By the time I reached the front door, it was just swinging inward. I stopped it with my foot and practically leapt into the narrow opening.
On the front porch, the new arrivals drew back, as if startled by my sudden appearance. The group consisted of Waverly, along with Roy and two other guys who looked to be somewhere in their mid-thirties. Like Roy, the guys were dressed casually in jeans and work shirts. As for Waverly, she wore a sleek navy dress with matching high heels.
I poked my head further out of the doorway and plastered on a giant smile. "Oh, hi. So, how's it going?"
It was Waverly who answered, "Shitty. Now get out of my way."
Well that was pleasant.
Still, I put on my concerned face. "Oh, no. Is something wrong?"
It was Roy who answered. "Nothing too bad. They messed up her coffee order."
Waverly whirled to face him. "Not too bad? Seriously?" Through gritted teeth, she warned him, "You don’t know what I’m like without coffee."
Looking surprisingly unterrified, Roy replied, "Actually, I'm pretty sure I do." Behind him, the other two guys nodded in solemn agreement.
I chimed in, "Wow, that sounds really awful." Hoping to keep the conversation going, I asked, "So, um, who messed it up?"
Waverly's eyes narrowed as she turned to face me. "Are you mocking me?" she said.
"Me? No." Shockingly, this was actually true, even if I did think her distress was totally mock-worthy. But then, a moment later, I heard myself say, "So, who did this atrocity?"
Okay, so maybe I was mocking her now, but how could I help it?
Waverly sighed. "The yokel who works there, that's who. Now where's Brody?"
I tried not to snicker. "Really? There was a yokel?" I lowered my voice. "Tell me, did you report him to the authorities?"
"I tried," she huffed. "Turns out he owns the place."
"Wow," I said. "How terrible."
"Yeah. Tell me about it." As she spoke, she took a single step forward, as if expecting me to throw open the door and step aside. And when I didn't, she stopped short and eyed me with open hostility. "You're not moving."
I gave a few stupid blinks. "I'm not? Are you sure?"
Her jaw clenched. "I can see you."
"That's funny," I said. "I can see you, too."
"Oh, for God's sake." Waverly turned to Roy and said, "Move her out of the way, will ya?"
Roy looked from Waverly to me and back again before telling her, "I'm pretty sure that's not in my contract."
"Fine," she snapped. "I'll do it."
But just as she started to move forward again, a familiar male voice from somewhere beyond the porch asked, "Is there a problem?"
In unison, we all turned to look. As we did, Brody sauntered into view, as if he had all the time in the world.
I smiled in relief. Obviously, he'd slipped out the back while I'd been guarding the front.
At the sight of him, Waverly said, "There you are!"
"Yeah," he said. "So what's the problem?"
Waverly jerked her thumb vaguely over her shoulder and said, "She won't let us in."
Brody gave a loose shrug. "Yeah, well. It's hard to find good help, you know?"
Hearing this, I didn't know whether to laugh or throttle him. And besides, by now I'd already pulled open the door nice and wide – not that Waverly seemed to notice.
And why? It was because she was giving Brody that look again, like he was the tallest, tastiest cup of coffee ever.
I spoke up. "If you wanted to come in, you should've said so."
At this, I swear Roy snickered, even if he did cover it up with a cough. As for Waverly, she ignored me completely as she turned away and hustled off the porch to join Brody on the front walkway.
With a flirty smile, she leaned toward him and asked, "So, where were you?"
"Here," he said. "Where were you?"
"I was trying to get inside." Her tone grew breathless as she said, "Did you know it rained the other night?"
"Yeah, so?"
Her smile widened. "I'm betting we've got major damage." She said this like it was a good thing.
But Brody wasn't smiling. "You think?"
"Sure," she said. "I heard it rained like four inches." Sounding nearly orgasmic, she breathed, "Just think of the 'before' footage. If the ceiling caved in, we're gold, baby."
Baby?
Good grief.
I spoke up. "If you were so excited about the rain, why didn't you look inside yesterday?"
It was a valid question. Yesterday, she'd shown up at this very house, only to spend all of her time griping about the lawn. To the best of my knowledge, she hadn't even bothered to open the front door.
With a sound of annoyance, she turned to face me. "Because I didn't know it rained until I saw last night's news coverage." Under her breath she added, "And besides, I didn't have a key."
I said, "But that didn't stop you today."
Her mouth tightened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, just now, you opened the door without one."
"Right, because today it was unlocked." She threw up her hands. "And why am I explaining myself to you?" She turned to Brody. "Did you know it was unlocked?"
"Yeah," he said. "Because I unlocked it."
"Oh." She perked up. "So? Was there rain damage?"
He gave a half-shrug. "Some."
With obvious disappointment, she said, "Just some?"
"Well, it's not like the ceiling caved in," he said.
She was frowning now. "Oh."
Brody glanced toward the house. "But we've got major damage on the third floor."
At this, she brightened considerably. "Really?"
"Yeah. The way it looks, the damage has been there a while."
"Thank God," she breathed. Turning to Roy, she said, "Go ahead and start setting up. Remember, we've got only two days to get the 'before' footage."
I asked, "What happens in two days?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she said, turning once again to beam at Brody. "We get straight to work."
Chapter 22
Brody
We. There was that word again. I gave Waverly a long, penetrating look. "So, you're gonna help?"
The question made her pause. "Excuse me?"
"You said we'd get straight to work. You mean fixing the house?"
She smiled. "Right."
I didn't smile back. "So, what are you gonna do?"
"Me?" she said. "I was thinking I'd help supervise."
It was time to set her straight. "Nope."
Her smile faltered. "What?"
"That's not gonna happen."
With a shaky laugh, she said, "Well, I mean I know that you're in charge of the actual work, but it's all a team effort, right?"
Normally, I might see it that way. But I'd come across Waverly's type before. She was the kind of person who'd never get her hands dirty, but would gunk up the gears for everyone else.
I told her, "You deal with your crew. I'll deal with mine."
She frowned. "You mean the film crew?"
"That is your crew, isn't it?"
"But what about everyone else?" she said. "Like plumbers and…" She made a vague waving motion with her hand. "…other construction people?"
"They're part of my crew," I said. "And I'm telling you up front, they take orders from me. Not you. Got it?"
Her fade reddened, and she lowered her voice. "Surely, you don't think I'd cause trouble? I mean, you and I – we…" Her words trailed off, and she glanced toward the front porch, where the others stood watching us.
Waverly barked out, "Hey! What are you looking at?"
None of them answered.
But hey, I had something worth saying. "And that's why you're not in charge."
Waverly whirled to face me. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I won't have you barking at my crews."
"What?" she sputtered. "Like a dog?"
A female dog, maybe. But I wasn't into name-calling, so all I said was, "Just stay in your own lane, and we'll be fine."
Her lips pursed. "We'll see about that." With a huff, she turned and stalked toward the familiar white SUV.
I watched with only mild interest as she yanked open the passenger's side door, pulled out her cell phone, and climbed into the passenger's seat, slamming the door shut behind her.
The sounds of muffled yelling quickly followed.
I didn't know who she was calling, but I wasn't worried. She was replaceable. I wasn't. And we were killing it in the ratings.
I was on firm ground, and the last thing I needed was an uptight rookie acting like she was in charge. It was the kind of thing that led to mistakes, or worse, accidents.
That wasn't going to happen. Not on my job.
And already I had more than enough trouble with Arden Weathers, who was proving to be more persistent than I'd expected.
Still, I had to give her credit. She'd done a decent job of stalling the film crew while I finished up with the hoses. And she'd kept her mouth shut, too.
I glanced toward the house. Sometime within the last minute, the film crew had disappeared inside. But Arden, she'd moved away from the front door, and was now standing alone on the edge of the porch.
Her jeans were loose, and her shirt was nothing special – a basic blue pullover, thick enough to be decent regardless of what she was doing.
Still, I could see the rising and falling of her chest and the tilt of her chin as she eyed me with a look that I'd never seen – or at least, not on Arden, and never directed at me.
As our eyes met, I had to ask myself, "What was she thinking?"
Chapter 23
Arden
He was magnificent. It was true that I didn't like him, but I had to respect the way he'd handled the situation with Waverly.
My grandpa had been a tin-knocker. In construction, those were the guys who ran the heating and cooling ducts from one end of the house to the other, with lots of places in-between.
Bending sheet metal – it wasn't an easy job, and his hands – even long after he'd retired – had retained plenty of scars to prove it.
And the stories he'd told – about bad bosses, unsafe conditions, and people who lost their cookies when things didn't go their way.
All of those twisted tales had been enough for me to know that Waverly would be the worst kind of person to have in cha
rge of anything that involved power tools.
But Brody? He was turning out to be something different than I'd expected. When he turned to look in my direction, I should've looked away. But it felt cowardly to be caught staring and not own up to it.
So I gave him a little wave and an unsteady smile. His eyebrows furrowed for a long moment as we stared across the distance. But then, he did something that I never would've expected.
He actually smiled back.
It wasn't a big smile, but something about it sent my traitorous heart fluttering to dangerous new levels.
And now, I was embarrassed.
To cover my sudden discomfort, I mouthed, "You owe me." And then, fearful of making a fool of myself, I turned away and headed back into the house.
Supposedly, I started work at eight. A quick glance at my cell phone told me that it was just past seven, which meant that I still had nearly an hour of free time before I'd be needed for whatever.
I decided to spend that time as I'd originally planned – going through the house to see for myself just how bad everything truly was.
As I traveled from room to room, I occasionally crossed paths with the guys from the film crew, who were busy setting up big standalone lights powered by lots of extension cords.
In passing, I learned that the two new guys were named Mitch and Jerry. Mitch was a sound technician, and Jerry was a backup cameraman and general gopher – or at least, that's how he described himself. Unlike Waverly, they both seemed pretty nice.
As far as Waverly herself, I saw no sign of her – not that I was complaining.
Still, as I wandered through the house, I saw plenty of things to concern me – scuffed floors, cracks in the plaster, and water stains around several windows. As far as things that needed fixing, the more I looked, the more I saw.
But it wasn't until I ventured up to the third floor – a big converted attic – that I saw the worst of it.
It was bad. Really bad.
From floor to ceiling, it looked like a disaster zone, with gaping holes in the slanted ceiling and dark water-stains running down the walls.
My stomach sank. Was this even fixable?
As I stood on the top step of the secluded stairway, I silently surveyed the damage. It was then that I spotted Brody standing near the rear window – the one that overlooked the beach and endless waters beyond.
His back was turned, and his silhouette looked very fine, especially in contrast with the destruction all around him. His waist was narrow, and his shoulders were broad. His jeans fit to perfection, showing off long legs and a tight ass. Even his work boots made him look sexy.
Boom Page 10
