Hammer, Nails, and Happily Ever After?

by Mitzi Kelly

  Ginger laughed at the pink flush spreading across Becky’s cheeks. She raised her glass in a toast. “Here’s to your mother’s health and to your happiness.”

  Becky smiled and raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that!”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ginger saw Justin and three other men entering the patio and walking quietly toward them. Justin had one hand behind his back, and it was all Ginger could do not to laugh. These big adult males tiptoeing across the patio was a sight she would never forget.

  Justin walked up behind Becky’s chair. “Actually, she’ll drink to anything.”

  “Justin!” Becky exclaimed, whirling around in her seat. “What are you doing here?”

  From behind his back, he pulled out a beautiful bouquet of a dozen yellow roses. “I’m here to see you. We all are,” he said, stepping aside and waving his arm at the rest of the laughing men.

  Becky stood, her eyes filling with tears as she clutched the flowers to her chest. She gave Justin a big hug and then greeted the other men by name as she hugged each of them in turn. “Josh, it’s so good to see you! Mark, I thought you were out of town! Gerald, this is so sweet of you!”

  While Becky laughed and talked to the men, Justin sat down next to Ginger, a big smile on his face. “I’ll introduce you in a minute. These are three of the subcontractors we’ve used for years, and they’ve all grown very fond of Becky.”

  “I can see that.” She grinned. “This was really a great idea. You can see how much it means to Becky.”

  That was an understatement. Tears of joy and sadness were rolling down Becky’s face, but her smile was huge.

  A lump formed in Ginger’s throat, and she quickly looked away. She could sympathize with Becky’s feelings. Becky was preparing to leave what she was familiar with, to step out of her comfort zone and plunge into the unknown.

  The afternoon was pleasantly comfortable, a soft breeze preventing the temperature from climbing. Trimmed shrubbery formed a natural wall on the other side of the low railing surrounding the patio. It provided an intimate and cozy atmosphere. Justin waved to the server and ordered four beers and several appetizers.

  Ginger placed her hand over her glass, indicating she was not ready for more wine. “Will anyone else be joining us?” she asked casually.

  “Just Greg and Steve. They’re on their way over,” he said as he got up to gather chairs from the vacant tables.

  Ginger’s smile widened. “Here, let me help.”

  Fun bantering and good-natured ribbing ensued as everyone sat at the round table and started talking at once. They had the patio to themselves, whether by design or by accident, Ginger did not know, but it was a nice, enjoyable setting. She was introduced to Mike Taylor, a painting contractor, Josh Harrington, a stucco contractor, and Gerald Smith, a plumbing contractor. It was obvious these men knew each other well. The man named Gerald ended up sitting to her left. He was a huge man with a sweet, gentle personality.

  Becky was in high spirits, her emotions obviously on overload at the thoughtful gesture of the goodbye party. Ginger was honored she had been included in every aspect of it.

  A sudden commotion at the door leading from the restaurant out to the patio had them all looking up. Someone was pushing through the door amidst an enormous collection of large, helium-filled balloons. Only two long legs encased in jeans made it possible to tell there was a human being in the center of the hubbub.

  And Ginger recognized those legs. Greg had finally arrived.

  Justin’s eyes widened. “What the—?”

  Becky’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the balloons that seemed to float directly toward her. When Greg’s face pushed through the middle of them, she gasped in delight and started laughing. “What have you gone and done, Greg Tucker?”

  Ginger stared in amazement at the sheer volume and variety of the balloons. Happy Birthday! It’s A Boy! It’s A Girl! Get Well! Congratulations! Every imaginable color and sentiment was represented, and she was surprised Greg did not take off flying into the wide blue yonder. She had to give him credit for ingenuity. All the words, the hugs, the well wishes—nothing could compare to this spectacular display of affection. Becky would remember this moment forever, and so would everyone else if the numerous cell phone pictures were anything to go by.

  Greg struggled to their table, obviously exaggerating the effort it took, and stopped next to Becky’s chair. Like a little girl, her eyes were still wide with wonder as she watched him tie the multitude of ribbons to the back of her chair. When he finished, he knelt beside her and reached for her hands. “You’re going to have many celebrations we’re going to miss. I wanted you to know that, regardless, we’ll be with you in spirit.”

  The tears started rolling down Becky’s cheeks again, and pressure built behind Ginger’s own eyes. Nobody spoke as Becky stood and pulled Greg up with her so she could give him a hug.

  Thankfully, before Ginger started blubbering all over herself, the patio door opened again, and a tall man, undeniably related to Justin and Greg just by the mischievous grin on his face, strolled through carrying a single, small balloon attached to a straw with the word “Ditto!” scrawled across it in black magic marker.

  The man gallantly handed Becky the balloon before he wrapped her in a bear hug. “We’re going to miss you.” Then, before the water works started again, he made a show of forcing Becky to sit and then turning his back on her. “It’s on with the new, however.” He gave Becky a wink over his shoulder when she muttered, “Two-timer,” and threw a tortilla chip at him.

  The man stopped at Ginger’s side. “Since nobody here has the good manners to introduce us, I’ll do it myself. I’m Steve, everybody’s favorite Tucker. And you must be Ginger.”

  “I am.” Ginger grinned, accepting the hand he held out. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “Yeah, the real thing is better than the image, isn’t it?” he said, holding his arms wide. Greg made a gagging sound, and Justin rolled his eyes, but Steve ignored them. “It’s nice to finally get to meet you, too. I hear you are doing a fantastic job, and we are lucky to have you. Welcome to San Antonio and to Tucker Construction.”

  Ginger smiled and murmured a polite thank you. Who had been discussing her—Justin or Greg? It was only natural at least one of them would have. After all, Steve was one of the owners of Tucker Construction. She was just grateful the comments appeared to have been positive.

  Steve clapped Justin on the shoulder and circled the table, shaking hands with all the men. After Steve gave Greg one of those manly hugs Ginger always found endearing, Greg looked at Justin sitting on her right and Gerald sitting on her left. He shrugged and sat in an empty chair directly across from her. Then he winked when he caught her looking at him. Heat rose in her face. The cad. Was it that obvious she would have liked him to sit beside her?

  Conversation flowed easily around the table as the appetizers disappeared at an alarming rate. Beers were reordered and the women’s wine glasses refilled, and then when it became obvious nobody was willing to interrupt the social atmosphere to actually order dinner, Justin requested a buffet-style variety of entrees be brought to the table.

  Ginger noticed how easily Justin took charge without being pushy or arrogant. Often he would look around the table to make sure everybody had what they needed, and she supposed it came natural knowing what she did about how he’d had to take control of his family when his mother left them.

  “So you’re new to San Antonio? Are you getting familiar with your surroundings yet?”

  Ginger turned to Gerald. “Slowly, but surely, I am.” She smiled. “One day I’m going to just get in my car and start driving. I learn best by mistakes, and I figure the more I get lost, the faster I will learn my way around. I’m glad we finally got to meet, Gerald. I’ve noticed your company handles most of the plumbing projects for Tucker Construction.”

  He nodded. His bright red hair and blue eyes gave him a sweet, young appearance, but th
e tiny lines around his eyes and mouth were evidence of his maturity. She placed him in his late forties, and it was clear from his calloused hands and muscular arms that this was a grown man who did not spend his days sitting behind a desk.

  “I’ve been working for these characters for many years.” He indicated the Tucker men with a tilt of his chin. “I figure someone better hang around and keep them in line,” he joked. “Especially that one.”

  She followed his gaze, not surprised when it landed on Greg who was deep in conversation with Becky, one arm draped over the back of her chair. “Why especially that one?”

  Gerald grunted. “You’ve heard the old saying work hard, play hard? Well, that one takes it to the extreme. Ever since the accident, that is.”

  Ginger blinked. “Oh? What accident?”

  He gave a wry smile. “Everyone’s always telling me I talk too much. We are all pretty close here, and we talk like family, but some things should come directly from the horse’s mouth, as they say. No disrespect intended.”

  “None taken,” she said, although she was more than a little curious about the accident he mentioned. “It sounds like you know him pretty well.”

  He chuckled. “I’d say so. And you will soon understand the ‘play hard’ bit since you’ll be answering the phones at the office. If there is a problem on the job, he will downplay it to keep things in perspective and then tackle it head on. With women, the minute they turn serious, our boy Greg starts backtracking faster than a man facing a grizzly bear. That’s when the phone calls start. Becky has chided him more than once about giving his girlfriends the office phone number.”

  Ginger kept her expression flat. Just what she did not want to hear. Her friend was a player.

  Gerald continued, “I’ve worked beside him for years, and there’s nothing he won’t do, regardless of his position in the company. He’s also one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

  It seemed strange that on one hand, Gerald was describing a decent, honorable, and loyal man, and on the other, a shiftless player who couldn’t care less about the women he dated. Maybe Gerald did not really know Greg as well as he claimed.

  Then another thought popped into her mind. She recalled Greg’s strange reaction when she mentioned how her parents had died. Had he been thinking about the accident Gerald just mentioned? Had a drunk driver hit him also? Or, she thought with a lump in her throat, had he been a drunk driver?

  Somehow, she could not imagine that. Even from the little she knew of the man, she couldn’t fathom the idea of him being stupid enough to drive while drinking. No, she must not jump to conclusions. She would have to push it to the back of her mind. It really wasn’t any of her business.

  She turned her focus back to the present and raised her eyes. Greg was looking at her. He smiled, his eyes softening into dark, tranquil pools. A shudder passed through her. Oh yes, she could easily imagine unsuspecting women falling for him.

  Chapter Six

  “Damn hard-headed woman,” Greg muttered under his breath as he climbed into his truck and pulled out of the parking lot. He had offered to follow Ginger home, to make sure she made it okay, but as she had so firmly told him, she was a big girl, and she could take care of herself.

  He scowled. Big girls could sure be a pain in the ass. He wasn’t worried about her driving ability; she had switched to soda after her second glass of wine. With the setting of the sun, though, darkness would soon follow, and he was not quite as confident in her navigating ability. If she found herself in a strange area with nightfall upon her, it could turn into a dangerous situation.

  That scenario was ridiculous because she had been driving back and forth to work for a week now, but it was as good an excuse as any he could think up. He just wanted the peace of mind in knowing she had made it home safely. He knew, better than most, how one freak accident could change the course of many lives.

  The party for Becky had turned out to be a huge success, a perfect way to visit and say goodbye without all the hassle of the office grind. He wished he’d had some time to talk one-on-one with Ginger, though. He wanted to find out more about her plans for her house. To say he was intrigued was an understatement. How could such a petite woman, maybe five-feet tall and probably weighing around 115 pounds, manage the heavy lifting required to do the repairs on her home?

  The questions would have to wait, though, because Gerald had stayed glued to her side the entire evening. And if the sly, teasing looks Gerald occasionally shot him during the evening were anything to go by, Gerald had been acutely aware of Greg’s frustration.

  As of two hours ago, Greg no longer counted Gerald as one of his best friends.

  He understood Gerald’s attentiveness to Ginger. She was extremely easy to talk to, not playing any of the usual female games that required flattery on the man’s part and coquetry on the woman’s part. Hell, the other night he had divulged more private information about himself than he ever told his closest friends. And all she had said to get him to open up was tell me about your childhood. The woman was a sorceress, no question.

  They were getting close to Ginger’s neighborhood. He could easily make out her taillights, so he slowed down just enough to let a couple more cars get between them. Restless, he leaned forward and turned on the radio. A soft, slow country tune filled the truck. What was he doing following a woman just to make sure she was safe on a Friday night when he could be out dining and dancing? Maybe he would head out to one of the clubs to hear some live music after making sure Ginger made it home safely.

  He settled back in his seat, his thoughts shifting to the party this afternoon. Several times, he had noticed a sad, almost wistful expression cross Ginger’s face when she didn’t think anybody was looking. When he learned Becky was hoping to meet up again with her high school sweetheart, the nagging question arose again regarding Ginger’s past. Had she been thinking about someone she left behind in California?

  With a frown, Greg rubbed his chest in the area right above his heart, wishing he hadn’t eaten quite so much of the spicy salsa.

  Ginger’s left signal light came on, and he slowed. He coasted to the street corner and turned off his lights, watching as her car pulled into her driveway midway down the street. After a few seconds, her car door opened, and he was able to see her walking up to her front door. He waited for a few minutes and then turned down her street, driving slowly past her house. Satisfied that all was fine, he sighed deeply, turned on his headlights, and drove to the end of the street.

  Maybe he would just head on home instead of going out tonight. It was early, but it had been a hell of a week. A good night’s sleep would not hurt him.

  ****

  Ginger locked the door behind her and quickly greeted Jack as she hurried to the front window without turning on any lights. “Just a minute, big guy,” she soothed as Jack squirmed against her legs. A few minutes passed before she saw the black truck drive by her house. When it vanished from view, she grinned and bent down to give the Lab a thorough pat. “I have to tell you,” she said as she stood and headed for the back door, “our friend, Greg, is one sweet, thoughtful guy even if he is a cad. He followed me all the way from the restaurant even after I told him it wasn’t necessary.”

  Jack didn’t seem too impressed at the moment. He pushed through the back door almost before she had it open.

  Crossing her arms, she leaned against the open doorway and let the cool evening breeze settle over her. Try as she might, she just couldn’t picture Greg in the role of Master Manipulator. Was it because she didn’t want to believe he was capable of such disgusting behavior when it came to women he dated? If he truly was a monster, what did that say about her judgment?

  She knew the answer to that question. It would mean her radar was still broken.

  The next morning, she woke early, feeling energetic and surprisingly optimistic. The oppressive cloud of worry and doubt she’d lived with for so long was finally lifting, allowing hope and self-confidence to ru
le with the beginning of a new day. It felt so good to just feel good that she ended up adding to the list she had made last night of the things she wanted to accomplish this weekend. She wasn’t going to let worry and doubt ruin this feeling.

  An hour later, she returned home after picking up some general supplies, singing at the top of her lungs to the classic Born to Be Wild song. She turned onto her street and almost sideswiped a neighbor’s car when she spotted Greg’s truck in her driveway. She frowned and turned down the radio. What is he doing here?

  She pulled into her driveway and climbed out of her car. Greg’s truck was empty, and he wasn’t at the front door. A slow anger started to burn. She would shoot him if he’d gone into the backyard. Poor Jack would be going crazy at not being able to get outside—whether it would be to greet Greg or to bite his arm off was irrelevant.

  She started to march toward the back gate when a lazy drawl called out, “Mornin’. Where did you go so early?”

  She whirled around. She was a little old for hide-n-seek and in no mood to play the game. Cocking her head, she placed her hands on her hips. “Where are you?”

  “Right here.” A hand grasped the side of the truck bed, and he pulled himself up to a standing position.

  Her eyes widened, and she walked to the back of his truck. “What are you doing in the bed of your truck?”

  “I decided to take a nap while I waited for you.” Yawning loudly, Greg stretched, the sleeveless T-shirt he wore pulling tight across his chest.

  “You were napping in the back of your truck?” She stood on tiptoe and tried to see over the sides of the truck. “What do you have in there, a fully-furnished bedroom or something?”

  He held out his hand while a wicked grin crossed his face. “Want to come up and see?”

  She swatted his hand away. “You’re incorrigible.”

  He laughed and jumped over the side of the truck. “Actually, I have bags and bags of leaves I haven’t taken to the dump yet. They make an unusually comfortable bed.” He was dressed very similar to the way he had been when she first met him. Cutoff jeans, tennis shoes, and a baseball cap. The only difference this time, unfortunately, was he wore an old T-shirt with the sleeves cut out, effectively covering his smooth, sinewy chest.