Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (51 page)

Then if we didn’t go shopping or Lanie didn’t have paperwork to catch up on, we’d spend the afternoon in her pool or at the pool at Carlotta’s condo—depending on whether we felt like being ogled or not.

Sunday was all about relaxing and making it to work on Monday with none the wiser of our weekend activities.

"So," Lanie said once we’d all been seated and served our Mimosas, "how was Wade, you hussie? Carlotta told me what you did."

I eased back in my chair and gave her a satisfied grin. "Five
shiny
gold stars, Miss Cradle Robber." Maybe I should feel bad talking about him—rating him—but he did get five stars! And besides, he was probably telling his roommate all about his wild weekend anyway.

Men talk. Women talk. Deal with it.

"He didn’t even leave until this morning."

"He stayed all weekend?" Carlotta whispered with a sly smile. "What have I told you about hog-tying men?"

"I think the important question is what is she gonna do tomorrow?" Lanie asked between snorts of laughter.

"Go to work just like normal and pray he doesn’t tell his crew that the Safety Supervisor screwed his brains out," I finished with a laugh of my own. I was worried, but not terribly so. Wade and I hadn’t discussed any post-sexual relationship. I figured he knew the rules—a lay was a lay was a lay (not a relationship or a commitment)—and if he knew not to tell the guys about me kissing a woman, he surely knew that applied to our weekend of sexual acrobatics.

We stopped gossiping long enough to order and waited till our server was out of earshot before continuing. Around us, Sunday diners were dressed in their Sunday best, doing their post-church socializing, and the low chatter of people filled with God surrounded us.

Then there were us three heathens discussing sex, with just as much reverence, I might add.

"Lanie deserted me Friday night," Carlotta said, then paused to take a sip of her drink, "So I ended up going home alone."

"It’s not like you didn’t have any offers," she countered with a frown.

"After Friday work, I wasn’t in the mood but trust me, I made up for it Saturday night."

We were forced to wait for details until the waitress served us each a small plate of fruit.

"Rate it," Lanie ordered under her breath.

"Four stars—almost a five but—" She shook her head, "—
not quite
."

"Details," I demanded, leaning forward in my chair.

"Details yourself," she countered. "What made Wade a five—God he’s so hot, never mind."

"He’s got all the moves." I forked up a piece of cantaloupe, practically moaning as it melted in my mouth. "Yum. Wade was the entire package—and you?"

"I think his name was Greg—"

"You
think
his name was Greg," I said, only to be interrupted by Carlotta who gave me a dirty look.

"I was talking! He was a little sloppy, a little passive for my taste but well equipped."

"Who isn’t passive for your tastes," Lanie teased. She picked up a piece of strawberry and slid it between her lips and slowly bit down—slow enough to make me roll my eyes and look around. I shook my head and cut a piece of kiwi in half then forked it up, chewing as I slowly scanned the room until I found what had caught her eye.

A Suit
—a tall blonde with a chiseled jaw and dimples, dressed to the nines in a navy suit with a coordinating red power tie. He sat with an older woman not three tables away.

"Quit flirting and give us the dirty skinny on your Friday conquest. Was it the gigolo, the babe in the woods, or what?"

"Three stars," she said with a sneer of disgust, "small and lacking
serious
moves."

"Oops," Carlotta giggled.

"Not only did he lack moves, he passed out! Thank God we were at his place, so I just got up and left him there."

"Left him where?" I asked with a laugh.

"On the floor." Lanie rolled her eyes then sat back as the waitress slid a Belgian waffle in front of her.

"God that smells good. I should have gotten one," I said regretting my own omelet, and never mind that I knew it’d be to die for. The grass was always greener on the other plate.

Carlotta, on the other hand, was too busy tittering to even thank the waitress. While we ate, poor Lanie filled us in on her horrible pick-up, making us laugh loud enough to disturb the church crowd and garner us more than a few frowns.

By the time the food was gone and the Mimosas drained from our glasses and the waitress returned with our check, the dining room was nearly empty. Except for the guy Lanie had spent the entire meal silently flirting with.

"Brunch is on you, since you had the 3-Star lay." I grinned and pushed the little tray with our check in it toward her.

"No need to remind me," she said, throwing her gold card on top of the bill and smiling as the waitress took it. "I should have gone home with Carlotta."

I shook my head at the sight of her pulling an extra piece of paper from her purse. "You’re not?" I asked, glancing at the tall Adonis who kept eyeing our table. His mother –or sugar mama—had disappeared, but probably not for long.

"I am, damnit. I have to redeem myself somehow. ‘Cause I’m not buying breakfast next week, too!"

Once she’d signed the receipt we stood and wound our way through the tables with Lanie brining up the rear.

Neither Carlotta nor I stopped. Instead we stood at the dining room entrance, watching her work her magic.

"Well?" I asked once she joined us.

"He’ll be at Jimmy Z’s on Friday night."

"Slut," I muttered with a laugh.

~*~

N
one of us felt like being ogled or going shopping so by unanimous decision, we headed for Lanie’s after brunch. Dressed in a skimpy and shockingly yellow bikini, I stood on the patio while Carlotta in an equally skimpy red ensemble slathered sunscreen on my back.

While I returned the favor, a topless Lanie went bouncing by—literally—with a tray of margaritas in hand, her smile as impudent as her unfettered C-cups.

"Someday when her tits are down to her bellybutton, she’ll regret that."

"In the mean time I get to enjoy the view," Carlotta giggled.

"Y’all are so bad!" I snapped the lid on the sunscreen and set it on the table before following Lanie to the pool.

"You okay, doll?" she asked, handing me a sparkly plastic glass rimmed with salt as I sat down beside her.

"Just thinking about Monday, is all."

"Oh don’t do that! You’ll ruin the whole afternoon."

"Thinking about Wade?" Carlotta leaned down and took a full glass then stepped daintily into the pool, her top left behind on the patio table. Her golden brown skin gleamed from the suntan lotion, and her nut-brown nipples puckered from the chilled water.

Lanie sighed and sipped her drink. "Fooling with the help is a bad idea, girl, and I’d hate to say I told you so but."

"You should know," Carlotta said.

"Y’all remember Jay?" Lanie chuckled and shook her head. "Jay was
hot
. Best damn mechanic I ever had and the best lay too—but he was an
ass
. Hated working under me outside of the bedroom. My point is men just don’t like taking orders from women. It’s tough but that’s why we have rules."

CHAPTER FOUR

I pulled into the construction site’s freshly cemented parking lot, barely getting my truck in park before Wade had my driver’s side door open.

"What are you doing?" I hissed as I killed the engine.
God, don’t go lovesick fool on me now!

"We have a problem." The deadly serious expression on his face made me instantly queasy with fear.

"Someone saw us Saturday night?" We’d gone to a little Chinese restaurant just north of The Heights for dinner, then back to my apartment for more mattress acrobatics.

"No!" With a scowl, he yanked off his ballcap, ran a hand through seriously mussed hair and then replaced it on his head. "We have nearly twenty-five thousand feet of fucking
ruined
sheetrock!"

The only thing that kept me from screaming in horror was the site of Wade’s crew standing a few feet away. They shuffled from foot to foot looking as awful as I suddenly felt. I turned my head enough to take a good hard look at our strip shopping center sitting smack ass in the middle of a lake of sour mud. It nearly brought my English muffin and coffee up. The entire footprint—the building layout—was fifty thousand feet. How the hell had half of it gotten ruined?

"This isn’t happening."

"It is. And it gets worse, honey. Dolan is on his way out."

"Jerry or Junior?" I asked, grabbing my hardhat.

"Both."

"I’m dead." I killed my engine and slid out, pocketing my keys and ignoring Wade’s empathetic ‘honey’.

Jerry Dolan
was
Dolan Industries—the most prominent commercial builder in Houston. And his son, Junior was the Senior Project Manager. If they were on their way, our jobs were in serious jeopardy.

"We’re
all
dead, " Wade echoed.

My very first assignment as an Assistant Job Supervisor and nothing had gone right from day one. We were already behind schedule due to a dozen or so minor mishaps, including lost materials which weren’t my domain, but Hal Langston, the Job Supervisor’s. As Assistant Job Supervisor
and
Safety Supervisor, I had more than enough to keep me busy. Barring any
serious
budget problems, the possibility of us working around the clock to meet our deadline becoming a distinct probability.

I looked up at Wade and sighed. "Nice knowing you."

Despite his understanding chuckle, I knew
he knew
exactly what I was feeling. A company’s reputation could be made or broken on a job and so could a crew’s—and a supervisor’s.

As we gingerly traversed the sidewalk covered in mud and muck, I was as aware of Wade’s hand on the small of my back as I was Hal Langston’s eyes on me from just inside the building. He was a tall, stocky man, weather-beaten from years of construction work. Another crew stood at the edge of what would someday soon be a landscaped lawn waiting for the word to start repairs on the eight by four hole located to the left of the door.

Sweat pockets were already forming under my t-shirt, and I couldn’t even shake Wade’s hand off—not with forty or so men watching. As Monday’s went, this one ranked somewhere in the seventh circle of Hell.

Hal hated me more than anyone else who worked for Dolan Industries. And for no other reason than because I was a woman. He was old school—women should be seen and not heard, I mean barefoot and pregnant. And he always smelled like he’d just swam out of the bottom of a can of beer.

"Alex." Hal wasn’t one for formalities like "How was your weekend?" or "Good morning."

Which suited me just fine.

"Hal." As I stepped inside the building, I did my best to stay upwind of him but I had a feeling that today it wouldn’t do me much good. "How bad is it?"

"Some idiot left the water on, and after Friday’s fuckup, Dolan’s gonna have someone’s ass!" His voice echoed off the concrete foundation as he spoke to be heard over the pumps currently sucking out the excess water. Someone, of course, meaning anyone but him.

As if someone had left a tap running. And then wandered off. I shook my head and bit my lip to keep from calling
him
the idiot.

"Did anyone call the plumbers? Do we have
any
idea what caused this?" I demanded, focusing on the inch of water under my feet. I turned in a slow circle surveying square feet upon square feet of newly sheetrocked walls that had sucked up water for two days, and my heart sank to my toes. A quick glance said everything from about my waist down would have to be ripped out and replaced—sheetrock, insulation and another wiring inspection, to boot.

"One of my guys found one of those oversized plumber’s wrenches near the water main."

Hal butted in before Wade could continue, "I told you that could have been left by Little when he shut the water off."

"We don’t know that for sure though." A scowling Wade shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Have we called the police?" I asked even though I already knew the answer. Hell
no
, Hal hadn’t called the police.

"I don’t see any reason to call the police. It was an accident!"

"I need coffee," I said, digging my cell phone out of my purse and dialing 911. Hal and I had our own little scowl battle while I reported the possible vandalism.

"It’s your job," he muttered after I hung up.

"Yeah, it is. Now what about the brick layers?" They were supposed to have finished up this week. I slowly started my initial walk-through, wanting a chance to assess the damage before the boss showed up.

"Sent ‘em home." Hal shuffled along behind me. Whether he liked it or not, it wasn’t just my reputation on the line but Hal’s, too.

My steel-toed work boots made little sucking sloshy noises as I silently walked the length of the building. The sight of the damage had a sobering effect on all of us.

By the time we stepped back into the bright morning sunshine, all three of us heaved a sigh of relief. We watched as a shiny black Lincoln Navigator with dark tinted windows pulled into a space beside my Chevy. If it had been just Wade and me, I might have cracked a joke or something to ease the tension, but Hal didn’t have much of a sense of humor. So we all just stood silently waiting as Jerry and Junior Dolan slid out of the shiny SUV. Jerry wore his customary cowboy boots, jeans, a pearl snap shirt and a ferocious frown on his rugged face. Junior, a younger taller version of his father, just looked concerned.

Jerry slipped off his sunglasses and silently greeted us, as if we were all attending a funeral. And I suppose in a way it was.
Someone’s
funeral.

Now normally Jerry was a likeable man, full of good humor and quick with a joke. He’d earned his money the old-fashioned way and insisted his sons did likewise. He respected people who got the job done, but today he didn’t look like he respected much and none of us had answers for him.