Almost Like Being in Love (19 page)

“Yes, someone like Mitch. He was my inspiration.” He held out his hand. “You owe me one Hot Tamale, please.”

“Are you making up rules as we go along?” Caron doled out the required single Hot Tamale. “And I thought this box of candy was a gift, not some sort of penalty box.”

He popped the candy into his mouth. “We're running up against an almost impossible schedule, what with widening doorways, pulling up carpeting, retrofitting the master bathroom, lowering some of the kitchen cabinets and counters, and the sink, too. Ramps for the front and back doors.”

Kade stopped talking and silence filled the car.

“So what do you think?”

Caron formed a
T
with her hand and the box of candy. “I just called a time-out. So, when I speak, I do not forfeit a Hot Tamale.”

“Fair enough.”

“I think this is a brilliant idea. I can't wait to walk through the house and see how much has been done.”

“Eddie promised to meet us there today so he can give us a tour of the home himself. He huffed and puffed at first about making the changes—”

“I can imagine—”

Kade held out his hand for another piece of candy, his eyes still on the road.

“What? Oh, fine.” Caron dropped another candy into his palm.

“As I was saying, he blustered a bit at first about the added work, but things are moving fast now. I'm eager to see what he's done.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kade caught Caron's silent nod. It was surprising how a box of candy had helped them relax with one another.

But was that what he wanted? To relax? Get comfortable with Caron Hollister again? Was he maintaining proper business demeanor?

He shifted in his seat, as if putting a few more inches between him and the woman beside him would reestablish the needed boundary. He'd asked her to come to Colorado to help him, not to get involved with her again. And he wasn't about to open himself up to getting hurt by her again.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me, or do you want to hear some of my ideas?”

Caron's voice pulled Kade from his musings.

“We'll
be there in about fifteen minutes. Why don't we talk more once you've seen the house? Discuss it as we go room to room?”

“Good idea.”

Kade switched on the radio, filling the car with a current country hit. He'd avoid conversation, filling the silence with someone else's thoughts set to music. By the time they arrived at the house, he'd be back in the proper mind-set.

Two professionals working together. Nothing more.

•  •  •

Caron left Eddie and Kade inside the house, her iPad on the kitchen counter, easing open the sliding glass door that led to the backyard.

She'd accompanied the two men through all the rooms, dodging workers laying cream-colored Berber carpet and painting walls a muted eggshell as she typed notes in her iPad and took photos of each room. Possible ideas for colors, furniture, and accent pieces competed inside her head—ones she'd thought of back in Florida and new ideas now that she'd seen the house. All she had to do was sort everything out, room by room, into a plan that would best showcase the house.

The Front Range, capped by Pikes Peak, stretched out against a cloudless Colorado-blue sky. Now, how would that color be described if it were paint? She squinted, trying to remember some of the names she'd come across in store displays.
Parade Blue. Baby Blue Eyes. Atlas Blue.
Nope. Nothing but
Colorado Blue
worked. And even with the bright June sunshine, Caron savored the lack of humidity that would have caused her blouse to cling to her skin by now. Rolls of sod were positioned around the yard, as well several flats of bright red, purple, and white petunias.

“Can
I help you with anything?”

The man's deep bass voice caused Caron to turn. He was tan, a faded brimmer hat shading his face and a wide grin reaching all the way to his eyes.

“No, I'm fine. Just stepped outside to think.”

“Can't say I blame you. It's noisy in there.” The man extended a hand, then pulled it back to dust off the dirt caking his skin onto his jeans. “Sorry about that. I'm Austin Barret, the landscaper.”

“I'm Caron Hollister. I'll be staging the house.”

“Great. We'll be seeing each other again.”

“Possibly.” Caron couldn't help but like the man and his natural friendliness. “Although I'll be inside and you'll be outside.”

“Well, a guy's got to get a drink of water now and then. And I might need advice on where to place a petunia or two.”

“I'm sure you will.”

“I'll wager you're not from Colorado.”

“What gave me away?”

“That little Southern drawl of yours is charming.”

Caron had to laugh at the man's blatant flirting. “I bet you use that line on all the ladies, Austin.”

“Only the Southern ones.” Austin tossed her a wink.

“Everything okay out here?” Kade's voice sounded across the yard.

Caron's laughter stilled as Austin's eyes narrowed. “That your boyfriend?”

“No. That's my boss.”

“I see.”

“He's probably ready to discuss this project. We're on a tight schedule.”

Austin tipped the brim of his hat, flashing another of his teasing grins. “Been a pleasure to meet you, Caron. I hope to see you again. Soon.”

“See you around, Austin.”

Kade stood, hands on hips, at the top of the wooden ramp that had been constructed on one side of the small patio. Caron chose to use the stairs on the other side.

“Everything okay?” A slight breeze lifted her hair off her neck, and she relished the coolness.

“You tell me.”

What did Kade mean by that?

“You and Eddie were discussing retrofitting the second shower or not. I stepped outside to gather my thoughts—”

“Looked like you were flirting with the gardener.”

“If by ‘flirting' you mean that he came over and said hello and that I said hello back, then yes, I flirted with the gardener.” Caron huffed out a breath. “And I don't see why that's any of your business.”

“It's my business because I'm paying your salary for the next few weeks, which means I am paying you to work for me—not to fool around.”

“Fool around . . .” Caron kept her voice low, stomping her foot so that a sharp pain zinged up her calf. “I was talking to the man for less than five minutes.”

“I had to come looking for you. Eddie wants to know if you have any preliminary ideas to share with him.”

“Yes, I do. I just need to get my iPad.” Caron straightened her shoulders and stood as tall as she could, marching past Kade, but pausing long enough for one last verbal volley. “And if you plan on keeping track of me, I'll just tell you now you'll have to pay me extra to wear a bell.”

A
lex grabbed the washing-machine belt from the passenger seat of the van, knocking the crumpled fast-food bag to the floor, where it lay next to an empty Big Gulp cup and a Baby Ruth wrapper. He needed to clean the van in his spare time. But how often did he have any of that? Days like today were rare. The previous two appointments had been easy fixes and he'd finished up early, providing him with an extra hour to stop by Jessica's and tell her about his idea for her air-conditioner replacement. Yes, he'd be eating on the run again, but if everything went well with this impromptu repair, he'd still be on schedule.

Everything seemed quiet as he stood on the small front porch decorated with a white plastic planter filled with red geraniums. He knocked on the door. Waited. Knocked again. Waited. He tried ringing the doorbell, which gave an odd one-note jangle. How many things in this house were broken?

After a few moments of waiting, Alex had to admit Jessica wasn't home. Why did he assume she didn't work during the day? She'd
obviously taken off when he came to repair her A/C the first time, and the second time it was after five o'clock.

Just as he got back to the van, Jessica turned the corner at the end of the street and came toward him.

“Alex?” She quickened her pace.

“Hi.” He tapped the rubber belt against his leg.

“What are you doing here?” She stood on the sidewalk, a narrow strip of dry grass separating them.

“I came by to check on your washing machine.”

“My . . . washing machine? But you repair air conditioners.”

“Turns out I also know a little bit about other appliances. And I snuck a look at your machine the other day when I washed my hands because I needed to know the brand. Based on what you described, I think it's just a matter of replacing the belt.”

“Alex, you didn't—”

“I'm here. I have the belt. Is it okay if I take a look?”

She shrugged, a smile curving her lips, her strawberry-blond hair held back from her face by a plain white headband. “Of course it's okay. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I just don't want to take advantage of you.”

He followed her lead to the front door. “Where's Scotty?”

“I walked him over to a friend's house for a playdate.” She ushered him inside with a flourish. “You obviously know the way.”

“Guilty as charged. Are you off work today, too?”

“Off work?”

“I assumed you were off work the first time I came to repair your A/C—”

“I work from home. I'm a medical transcriptionist.”

“Really? I don't think I've ever met one of those.”

“I listen to different doctors' dictations of their reports and
medical notes and I type them up and then send them back for their review. It's nice because I'm home, and I can be here for Scotty. I might look for something else once he's in school full-time, but for now, it's a great job for a single mom, if you don't mind all the medical jargon.”

“Scotty's a great kid.”

“He is that. But today he was getting a little tired of hanging around the house while I tried to catch up on my work. Hence, the playdate.” A soft laugh wrapped around her words. “Some days it's all I can do to keep up with his never-ending appetite, his creative imagination, and his curiosity that leads to a million questions.”

“I bet he's got a lot of those.”

“Everything from why puppies can't talk to him, to why can't he eat all the ice cream he wants, to why doesn't his daddy live with us.” Jessica had switched from sunglasses to her regular glasses. “I have to admit, that last one is the toughest.”

Her last comment was said with raw honesty. “Does Scotty see his dad often?”

“No. I have sole custody of him. Our divorce was rough. I guess Wayne expected me to tolerate his not-so-secret girlfriends forever. I didn't wise up soon enough not to marry the guy, but I didn't stay stupid forever.”

Her admission surprised him. A brief explanation that didn't ask for pity.

“Anyway, you didn't come here to find out about me. I'll get out of your way and go wrangle with some long, complicated medical words.”

Alex disconnected the water and electricity before moving the washing machine away from the wall. Once he removed the back panel, he pulled out the broken belt—just as he suspected.

But his victory was a short-lived one. Yes, Jessica's washing
machine needed a new belt, but he'd brought the wrong size. So much for his good deed for the day.

Jessica sat at a small wooden dining room table, laptop open, headphones in place, eyes intent, fingers flying over the keyboard. Alex positioned himself at the other end of the table, standing silent, waiting until she finished typing. She paused the dictation machine next to the computer, removing the headphones and rearranging the headband that held her hair in place.

“So?”

“Well, I'm right . . . and I'm wrong.”

“Okay.”

“Meaning, it
is
your washing-machine belt, but I bought the wrong size.” He scratched the side of his jaw. “So, give me another chance to get the right one and I'll fix it for you.”

“Alex, really, I didn't expect you to do this—”

“You can't expect me to be this close and quit now.”

“I'm going to lose this argument, aren't I?” At his nod, she smiled. “So, do you win all the arguments with your girlfriend?”

“Caron? We don't argue.” Except about her winning the destination wedding in Colorado. And about her quitting her job. And about her working for Kade Webster. He wouldn't call his near-miss of a proposal a true argument.

Why were there so many missteps between them lately?

“Oh, one of those we-never-argue kind of couples.”

“We've known each other for years. It's . . . easy.”

“Easy would be nice. Are you two serious?”

“We've been together two years—so yes. We're talking about getting married.” That was one way to put the disastrous conversation in the car.