2:55. I’ve still got a good five minutes.
I roll down the window just as a pissed off Mattie approaches. “What’s wrong, sis?”
“They’re ripping out the stove. Do you know how noisy that is?” she fumes. “I can’t practice with noise like that.”
“Kath, I gotta go,” I say, knowing she just heard all of that. Mattie wasn’t going for subtle.
“I hear ya, ma love. Hang in there. You’re doing great.”
“Thanks, Kath. Thanks for everything.”
“Anytime, love.”
I disconnect the call and give Mattie my full attention. “Maybe it won’t take that long. You’re not practicing yet, are you?” She usually doesn’t start for another hour.
Mattie’s shoulders sag, but her eyes widen with worry. “No, not yet, but what am I going to do if I can’t practice?”
Ladies and gentleman, my sister The Fretter.
“Mattie, honey, this isn’t a problem yet. We don’t even know if it will be a problem.” I try to keep my voice from betraying any frustration. Maybe I should have kept Kath on the phone. She might have been able to help me with this one too. “How about we try to solve it if it becomes a problem.”
Mattie’s jaw drops and she looks at me like I’ve just confessed to a pastime of smothering puppies. “But I can see it being a problem. Why not be proactive and help me find a solution now?”
And there it goes. The last vestige of my patience. “Because, Mattie, I can only deal with the problems that actually do exist—and then not even all of those.” I’m not yelling. I don’t yell at them. But I do sound a bit like a teakettle. “If I have to find solutions for all the things that could turn into problems, I’m gonna lose it!”
Her eyes grow even wider, but I’m pretty sure it’s because of my outburst, and I’m about to apologize when her eyes cut to the right.
Emmett’s bus!
In a panic, I turn back to grab the golf umbrella, but that’s when I see through the back windshield it isn’t the bus, but Luc Valencia’s dark shape cutting through the downpour at a dead run.
And I have to admit, it’s quite a sight. Both him running through the deluge and Luc standing outside my car, black hair slick with rain, gray T-shirt plastered to his sculpted chest.
“Ladies,” he greets us, panting just a little. “Can I help with something?”
Chapter Eleven
LUC
Damn. I meant to get back here before Millie came home. After what happened this morning, I feel like I should be around until she’s okay with Sam and Donner. But when the lightning started, the crew at the Sterling’s needed help packing up equipment, and that held me up.
But as I look at each Delacroix sister, it hits me I’ve interrupted something. The way the younger one is glaring at me, I’m pretty sure it has to do with the kitchen demo. “Is there a problem?”
“No, it’s fine—” Millie stops, eyes fixed behind me. “Shit. Emmett’s bus.” And then she’s pushing the QX80’s door wide and wrestling with a giant green and white umbrella.
“Here, let me,” I say reaching for it.
She’s struggling to get both herself and the umbrella out of the cab at the same time, and I grab it.
“I’m already soaked.”
“But—” She gives me an exasperated expression and lets go. I take off down the driveway, rain like a hail of bullets pelting against my already drenched clothes. I reach the bus as the door flaps open, and I deploy the umbrella just in time for Emmett to hop underneath it.
He looks up at me under its green and white shelter. “You’re pretty fast.”
I grin down at the kid. “Where do you think mi hermano gets it?”
Emmett smiles, but as he does, the rain lashes both our pant legs. “We should probably get inside before we drown.”
Before my eyes, the kid’s smile collapses. He stares at me, saucer-eyed, for three whole seconds, and then he takes off running.
“Hey,” I call after him, giving chase, thrusting the umbrella ahead of me to keep him covered. It’s a bad job, and we both splash into the garage dripping.
Emmett crashes into Millie, wrapping his arms around her middle and burying his face in her stomach. I glance at Mattie, baffled, but she looks just as confused as I am.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” Millie asks softly, stroking her little brother’s wet head. He just shakes it, refusing to pull away. She looks up at me, frowning. “What happened?”
I shake my head. “I-I have no idea. He was fine, and then he just—” Flipped out. Freaked out. Lost it. These are the words that come to mind, but I don’t think they’d be too helpful.
She dips her head to his. “Did something happen at school?”
He shakes his head again, and I see his arms tighten around her. And Millie seems to give up searching out the cause and just squeezes back, wrapping him up in her arms, swaying, just a little, from side to side.
It looks like it would feel really nice.
I see the kid’s shoulders ease, comfort making its way through his body. But then she kisses the top of his head and turns to lay her cheek against it, and I see the worry pressed to her brow. And it makes me wonder.
Who holds her tight? Whose arms does she run to?
Her eyes meet mine. I realize I’m staring and quickly look away. Groaning, squeaking noises are coming from inside the house, so I excuse myself and head up the steps. Inside, I find Donner and Sam walking the old Kenmore stove toward the door like a couple of idiots. The noise is grating.
“Dios mío, use the dolly, would you?”
Donner shoots Sam an I told you so look, and Sam ducks his head.
“It’s in the trailer,” he says, sheepishly.
“So go get it.”
My two guys exchange glances again before Sam releases the oven and turns to go. I hold up a hand.
“Wait. What am I missing here?” I demand.
“Nothing, boss,” Sam says, looking guilty.
I shake my head. “That’s not the answer I’m looking for.” I glance at Donner, but he’s giving Sam an expectant look. “Somebody better fill me in.”
“It’s my fault,” Sam says, his chin dipping lower. “Donner told me to get the dolly. I said I didn’t want to because I’d get soaked.” His eyes seem to take in my drenched state, and he winces. “I said we’d walk the oven out and wait until the rain let up to move it out of the garage.”
I nod, getting what he’s saying, but I’m not happy about it. I look at Donner.
“Explain to me why that decision goes against the way we do things?”
Donner blinks at me before opening and closing his mouth. “Um…”
I press my lips together but manage not to scowl. This is a teachable moment. I look back at Sam.
“Put the customer’s comfort first. Waltzing a stove across the room not only sounds like the world’s coming to an end, you risk scratching the floors.” I hold up a hand again before either of them can interject. “I know the Delacroixes will be refinishing the floors. But good practice is good practice. Sam, if you don’t want to get wet, bring a slicker to work.”
“Yes, sir,” he says with a ready nod.
I shift my focus to Donner. “Don’t forget. If I’m not here, you’re in charge. So anything that goes on while I’m gone lands on you. If anyone on your crew forgets that, you remind them.”
Donner goes red in the face, but he squares his shoulders and nods, accepting both the responsibility and the dressing down. “Got it, boss.”
I see he does have it. At least for now. But he needs more grooming, which means I need to make sure I’m here as much as possible for the next couple of weeks. Especially since I’m not about to let another temp get anywhere near Millie.
“I’ll get that dolly,” Sam says, and then wastes no time scuttling out the door.
The Delacroixes have been in the garage this whole time, and when they come through the door right after Sam heads out, I see wh
y. Mattie leads the way, but Emmett still has his arm hooked around Millie’s waist, and he’s rubbing tear-reddened eyes with a fist.
And then the situation goes from bad to worse as the kid looks at the job we’ve done.
“Oh, no...” His wail goes straight through my gut. Emmett’s eyes fill with horror and fresh tears as he takes in the ugly emptiness that has replaced the comfort of his family’s kitchen. He flings himself back into Millie’s embrace and yells at the top of his small voice. “I WANT MOM!”
If the sound of his cry punched me in the gut, the pain in Millie’s face nearly takes out my knees. Grief, helplessness, and, worst of all, guilt, are all there in her eyes.
I jerk my gaze away from her to Donner and mouth one word. Out.
He doesn’t hesitate, and I follow him past the three of them, now tangled together. I’m on the top step when Emmett’s agonized question freezes me mid-stride.
“Why? They both knew how to swim? Why did they have to drown?”
Oh, fuck.
“We should probably get inside before we drown.”
I’m a fucking idiot.
I grip the doorframe, debating if I should walk away or turn back and apologize. Walking away would give them privacy. Who am I to intrude on their pain? I’m about to descend the steps, when I take one look over my shoulder at Millie.
She’s clinging to her brother and sister, like she’s trying to hold them up. Hell, she is trying to hold them up. All of them. Even the older brother who’s nowhere in sight. And she’s barely getting by.
I can’t let her clean up my mess.
I turn, step back inside, and drop to one knee. “Emmett,” I say softly.
With his face still pressed into Millie’s shirt, he opens one scowling eye. “Go away.”
Ouch. Who knew an eight-year-old could make you feel sick to your stomach?
“I will once I apologize.” I meet Millie’s eyes with a quick upward glance, and she’s frowning down at me in red-eyed confusion. Then I look back at her little brother. “I am so sorry. I had no idea what I said would hurt you.”
The eye is still scowling, but he blinks twice, listening at least.
“What did you say?” Millie asks, sounding stricken.
I look up and have the sudden realization that her scowl is identical to Emmett’s. That, and my current position down on one knee is an ideal one for having my teeth kicked in.
“I’m sorry, but when I met Emmett at the bus, I said we’d better get inside before we drowned.” Her eyes snap wide like I’ve struck her. “I should have been more careful.”
This is what makes me an idiot. Not that I didn’t know how his parents died, but that I even mentioned dying to a little kid who just lost the two most important people in his life.
Pendejo.
Upsetting a client is the last thing I want on any given day. What I’ve done to Millie and her family today alone should carry some jail time as far as I’m concerned. Too far from good enough. Miles away from great. Galaxies from frickin’ perfect. And everything I’ve fucked up today is even worse.
Because it’s Millie.
I look back at Emmett, but my words are for her. “I want to promise two things, Emmett. One: while we’re here, I’ll make sure no one says anything upsetting to you, your sisters, or your brother.” His scowl is gone, but I still have his full attention. Millie and Mattie’s, too, for that matter. “Two: I’m going to fix your kitchen so that you and your family love it so much. You’ll love everything about it. Just give me some time.”
Emmett takes a deep, shuddering breath, but he isn’t crying, and he’s not looking at me like I’m a monster.
“Does that sound good to you?”
His lips pinch together, bunching to the side. He shakes his head.
“No?” I ask, a shock running through me. He’s eight. Isn’t he too young to hold a grudge? No matter what, the opinion of an eight-year-old never seemed so important to me. Not even when I was eight. “Well, tell me, what else can I do?”
Emmett says nothing for a good five seconds, still tucked into Millie’s embrace, watching me. Santa Maria, Madre de Dios, ayúdeme.
“I don’t like surprises,” Emmett says, eyeing me with steady focus. “Even candy or parties. If something good is going to happen, I want to know.”
He looks up at the stripped and scarred walls of his gutted kitchen. “If something bad is going to happen, I want to know.” He swings his gaze back to me. “I want to know what you are going to do every day.”
I bite down on my grin, a quick glance at Emmett’s sisters tells me I’m not alone. I nod. “I can do that. At the end of every day, I can tell you what we’ve completed and what we have planned for the next day,” I promise my new boss. “If you’re not here when I leave for the day, I’ll write you a note.”
This, Gracias a Dios, makes him smile.
“Sound good, jefe?”
Emmett frowns. “What’s that mean?”
I grin. “It means boss. We got a deal?”
Beaming, he nods.
“Let’s shake on it,” I say, offering him my hand.
He peels an arm away from Millie’s waist and puts his small hand in mine. I squeeze, and he squeezes back with surprising strength. And then I get to my feet.
Aware that the three of them are still watching me, and Sam and Donner are waiting patiently in the garage—hopefully unable to hear everything that’s just happened—I glance at the kitchen and then at my watch. 3:27. It’s been a long ass day, but it ain’t over yet.
I look at Millie and then back at Emmett. “There’s more work we have to do today.” I glance back at Millie and hope she can read the question in my eyes. Should we call it a day? Start fresh tomorrow? “The next things on the list are pretty big.”
I look around the kitchen again, stomach tensing. He’s not going to like this.
Emmett blinks up at me. “What’s next?”
I reach back and scratch my neck, nervous. “We need to, uh, break up the tile and then remove the lower cabinets.
The whites around Emmett’s pale blue irises bloom. He looks at the white subway tile on the countertops and backsplash. “How do you break it up?’
I narrow my eyes in a wince. “With hammers and sledgehammers?”
My eyes have been on Emmett, but beside him, Mattie’s jaw drops. “You’re doing this now?!”
I shrug. “After we take out the dishwasher.” But I look to Millie. Are we doing this now? She meets my gaze and bites her lip, shrugging back.
“Can I help?”
We all turn to see Harry standing in the entrance between the kitchen and living room. He’s wearing a wicked smile as he surveys all the perfect white tiles.
Emmett’s gasp collides with Mattie’s outraged “What?!”
“I want to help too!” Emmett shouts, raising a hand and bouncing on his toes. “Pick me! Pick me!
No. No. No. No. No, my voice of reason chants. Visions of lacerations and lawsuits swim through my mind.
Millie is still biting her lip, but there’s a hopeful glint in her eyes.
Jesucristo, hope looks good on her.
“Only if you wear gloves and goggles.”
The boys cheer, though Harry’s sounds more like a roar.
“And promise not to sue me.”
Mattie turns accusingly to her sister, turning up her palms in annoyance? “Really? Really? What about piano?”
That hope disappears just as quickly as it rose, and Millie gives her sister a pleading look. She swings her gaze to mine, eyes hesitant.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She looks torn, and no wonder. By the looks of it, she’s being pulled in three directions all the time.
“Mattie has a piano lesson at five-thirty, and she’s worried about the noise,” she says, apology in her voice.
“We’ll be long gone by then.” I look at Mattie when I say this. “Demo for another hour and then clean up until five.”
“You can work in your room,” Millie says, as though this is covered ground.
The teen cocks her jaw, giving her sister an accusing glare. “It’s still noisy even up in my room. Have you tried to read about Neoclassicism in the middle of a demolition?”
Millie seems to steel herself before responding, but it looks like it’s going to take whatever’s left of her strength and patience to do it.
And I don’t want to watch that.
“You’re right,” I say, responding before Millie can. All eyes swing back to me. “It’s going to be really loud and throughout the whole house. Construction is loud.”
Mattie shoots her older sister a See. I told you so glare.
I raise my hand as if I could block it. “But I have noise cancelling headphones in my truck. Would you like to borrow them while you do homework?”
The sisters give me matching looks of surprise and then speak at the same time.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do they really work?”
I grin and answer Millie first. “I want to do it.” Even though I hold her gaze for just a second, letting it go is harder than I’d care to admit. I force myself to look at Mattie. “You won’t believe it. I use them all the time. Wanna give them a try?”
Mattie gives me a reluctant smile, and it’s great. But, Dios mío, it’s nothing like the smile her big sister lays on me. A man could demolish ten kitchens on a smile like that.
Fifteen minutes later, after scouring the supply trailer and my truck, I’ve found enough goggles and gloves for every Delacroix. Yeah, Emmett’s nearly reach his elbows, but it’s all good. And outfitting them with mallets and hammers is no problem, though Harry insists on using a sledgehammer.
“Go for it, kid,” I say, handing it to him.
The five of us fill the kitchen, staring down at the pristine white tile that spans the workspace. I’ve given Sam and Donner a ten-minute break. I don’t think any of Millie and her crew are going to take interest in this job much longer than that.
Kind of Cursed Page 11
