by Mitzi Kelly
“It took days to get rid of the stagnant water, but I wondered what I was going to do to pass the time when I first got here, anyway. The ripple effect on the floors is similar to walking through moving waves at the ocean. Not too difficult unless you’re drunk. I’m assuming the water was disconnected when the bill reached a gazillion dollars. The bathrooms are in the same condition.”
Ginger was talking too fast, but her anger threatened to reach the same level of disgust at the senseless destruction as when she’d first seen it. She stole a glance at Greg. He hadn’t said a word, but his lips were pressed tightly together, and a muscle worked in his jaw. Well, he wanted to know what had happened, and she was going to show him. Every bit of it.
“Stop,” he said in a low voice. “Enough, already.”
She turned toward him slowly. “What’s wrong? I’m just trying to answer your question. And I haven’t even begun to describe the problems with the exterior of the house.”
He leaned his hands on the countertop and lowered his head. “This is sickening,” he muttered angrily.
“Yes, it is.”
He let out a deep breath and stood up straight, letting his head fall back as he looked to the heavens.
“I almost forgot,” she said when his eyes widened. “All the ceiling light fixtures are gone.”
“Ginger, how did you end up here?” he asked softly.
“I thought I told you. I moved here from California.”
“No, here. I mean, how did you end up in this house? Couldn’t you have broken your contract when you saw the condition it was in?”
She chuckled. “What contract?”
“The rental contract or the mortgage agreement. Why didn’t you try to get out of it?”
“There is no contract. This house, such as it is, is mine, free and clear.” At his surprised expression, she sighed, her anger draining away, but not the embarrassment. She hated that her new boss knew about her sorry living conditions, but it was completely unfair to take her anger out on him. “I inherited this house from my parents when they passed away. My mother used to live in San Antonio, and this was her family home. She inherited it from her parents, but she was married and living in California when that happened. She wanted to hold on to it for sentimental reasons, so it has been rental property for over twenty years.
“I don’t know how it came to be in this condition. I don’t think my parents knew anything about the damage, either. When I was going through their paperwork, I found a letter dated over a year ago from some property manager stating the house was vacant and he’d meet them if they wanted to schedule an inspection.” Jack sat at her feet, and she reached down to scratch him behind his ears, her voice falling to a whisper. “I’m glad they never saw it like this.”
“Did you contact the property manager before you decided to come here?”
Ginger shook her head. “I tried to, but he passed away a few months ago.”
“What about the previous tenants? Can you track them down, sue them for damages or something?”
“What’s the point?” Frustration gave an edge to her voice. “Look, I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. Do you mind if we just finish up with the battery so I can go to work?”
She held his gaze, refusing to fall apart in front of him. For two months, day in and day out, she had lived with the disaster that was her home. She had dealt with the fear of running out of money while she worked on the house and the lack of confidence in her ability to make the repairs. Nevertheless, she was finding a way to survive it all, and the last thing she needed now was to be reminded of the enormity of the situation.
“You’re right. This isn’t a good time to discuss it. Give me your keys, and we’ll be on our way.” He moved toward her, so close she could smell the woodsy cologne he wore. He reached down to pet Jack, but his eyes locked on hers. “We will be discussing it soon, though.”
By the time they arrived at the office, Ginger had a monster headache. We will be discussing it soon… The words had reverberated through her brain during the drive to work. A threat? A promise? Or just a statement? Greg had followed close behind her, and even though she hadn’t been able to make out his facial expressions through the windshield of his truck, the tension radiating between the two vehicles could easily cause a seismic shift.
The worst part was she couldn’t tell him to take his concern and shove it. He was her boss, for God’s sake!
Chapter Four
Late that afternoon, Ginger dropped her purse on the floor and sank down on her rear end to receive the exuberant welcome from Jack. After a day like today, there was nothing she needed more than to know she was loved unconditionally, she was completely trusted, and she was the most important person in the world to someone. And it could all be expressed with a few licks and a wag of the tail.
For quite a while, she just sat there and played with Jack, her mood improving with each minute. As the low ebb faded, she looked around at the walls and flooring in her house, and the familiar excitement started to return. The embarrassment still lingered that Greg had seen this disaster, but she knew in her mind what it would look like when she was finished, and the only one she had to satisfy was herself.
“It might take a while, but we’re going to be just fine,” she murmured, finding that special spot at the base of Jack’s tail that almost made him drool. “You don’t care what our house looks like right now, do you, big guy? It’s a work in progress, and you trust me to turn it into a home.”
After a few more minutes, Ginger stood up. Some of Jack’s excitement might be because he needed to go outside. She let him out the back door and then went to her bedroom to change into her old paint clothes. She should have shown Greg this room. Watching his face during her meltdown had been disheartening, but she didn’t need confirmation of her ability to tackle this massive project by saying, “But look, look what I have done in here! Isn’t this great?”
However, it was great. She’d worked tirelessly repairing the walls, replacing broken windowpanes, painting, adding new carpet, and installing a ceiling fan with an attached light fixture and a new door. She was proud of her efforts and couldn’t wait until the rest of her house was finished. Or at the very least livable.
She fed Jack, opened a new box of sheetrock mud, and turned the radio on full blast. An hour passed quickly while she worked, singing and dancing along to classic rock songs on the radio while she patched the holes on the kitchen walls. Suddenly, Jack jumped up and ran barking to the front door.
Frowning, she turned down the radio, and that’s when she heard the loud banging on the door. It did not take an Einstein to know who was there. She opened the door with a frown. “What are you doing here?” Jack’s tail bumped against her leg as it wagged furiously. Evidently, he was happier to see Greg than she was, probably thinking the pizza and beer Greg carried were for him.
Traitor.
Her mood didn’t improve at Greg’s obvious amusement regarding her work attire as he looked her up and down. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, daring him to make a comment. To his credit, he sobered and cleared his throat. “I figured my invitation to the party got lost in the mail, so I came on over anyway.”
She tried, but she couldn’t prevent her lips twitching. “I’m working.”
“Ah, my mistake, then. I thought you had a real live band in your living room, so naturally I assumed you were throwing a party. It’s a good thing, though, because I only brought one pizza. Are you hungry?”
As if on cue, her stomach growled loudly. Before she could answer, he pushed past her. “Good. I am, too. Where shall we eat?”
She blinked and then closed the door with a shake of her head. “I do happen to own a table and chairs. Follow me.” She led the way through the kitchen to the dinette table where she pushed aside the myriad notes she’d made regarding her house. Greg placed the pizza and beer on the table and then bent down to pet Jack while she grabbed paper plates from
the dishwasher which also served as the cabinets and pantry while she worked on the repairs. “Do you want a glass for your beer?”
He looked askance. “Absolutely not! The total effect of consummate machismo is wasted when you burp and smash a glass against your forehead instead of an empty can. You haven’t been in Texas long, have you?”
She sat down and opened the pizza box. “Evidently not, but I’m learning. You Texas boys are a different kind of breed.”
He sat down, his knees brushing hers under the table. “We most definitely are. You’ve got a lot to learn, little lady,” he drawled, popping the top on two beers.
She pulled her legs up Indian style, ignoring the jolt of awareness that had crashed through her nerve center at the contact of their legs. She was more tired than she’d thought. She took a bite of the pepperoni and cheese pizza. “Mmm…this is wonderful. If bringing pizza and beer to a starving woman is a Texas tradition, I think I could get used to this place. Thank you, Greg. I didn’t know I was so hungry.”
He bit into his own slice. “No problem. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d take a chance you hadn’t eaten yet.”
She looked at him. “That’s a crock of bull.”
He laughed. “To be honest, I wanted to find out more about your house and what you’re planning to do. I see you’re…uh…starting to patch some holes,” he said with a knowing look at the blobs on her shirt. “Is this what you wanted a contractor for?”
She looked down at her shirt and grimaced. “Somehow I always end up wearing more sheetrock mud than I put on the walls. I won’t need any contractors immediately, but I would like to get some estimates so I can budget.”
“I can do the estimating for you.”
“Nope.” She took a drink of her beer and shook her head.
He cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean, nope?”
“I mean I would appreciate some names of contractors you trust, but I don’t want any part of this going through Tucker Construction.”
“Why in the world not? Didn’t you read the benefits page of your employment package? Health and dental insurance, paid vacations, and discounts on hammers and nails. It was all there in black and white.”
“I must have missed that part. However, since I’ve only been employed less than one week, it might be too soon to take advantage of my benefits.”
“So you want to work for us, but you don’t trust us. Is that it?” The glint in his eyes was proof he was teasing, but could he be thinking there might be a bit of truth in his words?
“I wouldn’t be working for you if I didn’t trust you. I just…it’s hard to explain.” She paused and then looked him directly in the eye. She needed him to understand. “I won’t deny working for Tucker Construction would be a big plus with the work I want to get done, but that’s not the way I want to do it. I do not want to feel indebted to anyone, or worry about what I am willing to pay for something. I know it must sound silly, but I would feel very uncomfortable using my employer to smooth this job along.”
She reached for another slice of pizza and leaned back in her chair. “I’m not going to pretend money isn’t an issue. I blew my wad on a new roof, a new water heater, and repairs to the air conditioning unit when I first got here. I also paid an electrician to come check out all the wiring. I will admit I was starting to panic, though. I was out of money and nowhere close to finishing this house. Now, if I’m careful, I’ll be able to get the repairs done while socking money away each month for the rest of the carpet.”
“Ginger, some of this work is going to require more than one person. You’re doing an amazing job of patching holes,” he added quickly, “but some of this sheetrock is going to have to be replaced rather than patched.”
She gave him a slow smile. Picking up her pizza and beer, she stood and headed for the hallway. “Follow me.”
When she reached her bedroom, she flipped on the light switch with her wrist and stepped inside. Greg followed slowly, and Jack brushed past them, prancing around the room as if inviting Greg to feel the magic.
Ginger took a bite of her pizza and watched Greg’s face as he took in the huge canopy bed covered in a dark rose comforter. Several throw pillows in different shades of mauve, rose, and pink were scattered at the headboard, and a big stuffed rabbit with button eyes was plopped in the center of the bed.
Matching sheer panels covered the window above the headboard, and two nightstands holding delicate ceramic lamps were at each side of the bed. A new ceiling fan with Victorian globes turned softly, and a dresser and mirror set in the same light oak wood as the bed adorned the adjacent wall.
His gaze finally settled on the freshly painted walls, baseboard, and door trim. He turned with a look of surprise, and she lifted a shoulder.
“Yes, I did it myself,” she stated. “Well, except for replacing the window pane and installing the carpet. The furniture is new, of course, but everything else you see I did myself.”
He walked closer to the far wall and ran his hand over the surface. The walls and ceiling had been expertly textured and then painted with a soft, rose tint, and all the trim and doors were painted a glossy off-white. “Was this room as bad as the rest of the house?”
“Worse. I think they used a broom handle to poke holes through the ceiling. I fixed the holes, but I had to scrape off all the old acoustic and then retexture it along with the walls. I haven’t done anything to the bathroom yet.” She walked over and opened a door.
Two five-gallon buckets of paint and new bathroom fixtures were piled in a corner. “I’d like to start working on it over the weekend, though.” The cabinets were in the same condition as the ones in the kitchen. A large hole on the side of one wall over the sink once held a medicine cabinet, and another door, held up by only one hinge, separated the commode and tub area.
She ignored the tightening of Greg’s jaw and turned her back on the mess. She was focusing on her bedroom now, not on what still had to be done. It was exciting to be able to show somebody what she had accomplished. The surprise that crossed his face had sent waves of pleasure over her, giving her a much-needed boost of confidence. She might be a loser when it came to choosing boyfriends, but her construction experience was still top-notch.
His gaze roamed over the room. He had a bemused smile on his face. “Where did the rabbit come from?”
She smiled. “My father. He gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. That rabbit has been on every bed I have owned since. It’s my most prized possession.”
He nodded. “Nice touch.” His gaze lingered on the bed.
All of a sudden, she felt awkward. The air grew heavy, and the bed expanded disproportionately in her line of vision. This was a very feminine, romantic room, and having a strong, handsome—and unquestionably male—figure in its midst caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach.
Swallowing, she moved toward her door. “I’m glad you like it.”
He followed her back to the dinette table. “How did you learn to do this kind of work?” he asked with a shake of his head. “I have to tell you it’s as good, if not better, than a lot of professional contractors could do. I’m really impressed.”
She had learned long ago not to talk about her ability to do home repairs because it usually resulted in men feeling threatened and women thinking she was weird. Nevertheless, it was something she truly enjoyed doing. The work challenged her in a way other jobs failed to do.
She got up to start a pot of coffee. “My father taught me.” She filled the carafe with water. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters, so I think my parents wanted me to have the best of what they each had to offer. My dad owned a small construction company. Nowhere near the magnitude of Tucker Construction, but from the time I was a little girl, I loved going to work with him. My mother never held me back, but she would often ask if I would rather stay with her and bake something or learn to sew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I never did. To this day, I can’t bake edible cupcakes or stitch a hem in a s
kirt, but I can tape and float drywall with the best of ’em.”
He laughed. “I have to admit it’s easier imagining you with a hammer and paint brush than with an apron and hot pad.”
She grinned. “That’s what all my boyfriends tell me.” Then she could have bitten her tongue. Why had she said boyfriend? Whether intended or not, remarks like that were a sure-fire way to destroy a friendship. She pulled two cups from the dishwasher and continued as though those stupid words hadn’t come from her mouth. “Dad said I had a knack for building and repairing things, and he started letting me participate in projects around our home. On Christmas and birthdays, I would always get a new tool or something related to construction.
“My mother tried to compete by giving me clothes and jewelry, but it was always the tools I wanted to mess with. Of course, it wasn’t until I was about nineteen that my dad let me work on his jobsites, and only when he could be there. I had an incredible childhood.”
“It sounds like it,” he said gently. “Where are your parents now?”
She paused. “Car accident. Drunk driver.”
He did not make an immediate comment. She stole a quick glance at him. A muscle worked in his jaw, and his eyes were downcast as he stared at his clasped hands dangling between his knees. She must have sounded detached, too callous in her remark. If he knew how close she’d come to completely falling apart, he wouldn’t think she was detached at all.
She placed a coffee cup in front of him and sat down.
Unexpectedly, he reached over and covered one of her hands with his. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been.”
That’s all it took. The pressure built behind her eyes, and she blinked rapidly. She didn’t talk much about the death of her parents for exactly this reason. The pain was still too raw, and when someone showed any sympathy, she almost melted into a blubbering puddle. Swallowing, she let out a small sigh and nodded. “Yes, it was. It still is, but I’m learning to deal with the loss and cope with the anger from the accident.”
