Page 15 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy

I want to tell her, ‘Sorry, we haven’t discovered ancient burial grounds or underground oil lines in your yard’, but somehow, I don’t think she’d get the sarcasm.

“Barring any issues,” I repeat, adding emphasis. “I can’t control the weather or my subcontractors, so I like to allow for some wiggle room. It’s built into the original timeline that we discussed.”

“Fine,” she finally agrees in a huff. “I’ll see you Monday, and we’d better have the concrete work completely done next week.”

I almost want to laugh. Clearly, she’s trying to assert some dominance here and make sure I know she’s in charge. Which she’s utterly and completely… not. It might be her house, but it’s my jobsite while this pool project is happening. Besides, even if my guys work their asses off, concrete doesn’t dry that fast. The laws of chemistry don’t change.

But that’s not an argument worth having today, so I remind her again, “We’ve taped off the area with caution lines, but everyone needs to stay clear of the entire yard. The disturbance of the ground is significant, and until it’s supported, it can shift without notice. Wouldn’t want anyone to fall into a big, filthy hole and not be discovered until Monday morning.”

There’s a thread of threat to my voice, which leads Kathy to grab at invisible pearls around her neck in shock. Am I being dramatic? Yes. Do I give a shit if Kathy falls into the hole in her yard and chokes to death on mouthfuls of fresh dirt? Unfortunately, yes. But only because it’d be an insurance nightmare for me. Mostly, I want to keep her out of the area so she doesn’t fuck anything up.

“Well, I certainly won’t be out there. Not until I can sip a mai tai on my back patio,” she answers with a haughty flip of her hair, which moves as one solid hairsprayed chunk of artificially blonde bob. That hair alone might be responsible for a hole in the ozone layer.

“Good, then my guys will be here next week.”

I walk around the corner of the house and out of Kathy’s back yard. Wayne’s sitting in his truck and at first, I think he kindly waited to make sure my end-of-week report with Kathy went well. Though I’m not sure if he thought I was going to need help hiding her body or if she’d be the one to murder me for insubordination. I’d like to say odds are better on my coming out alive, but Kathy’s outlived one man already so she might be tougher than I think.

But instead, he points at my truck. I follow his line of vision and see that my truck is on the curb, right where I left it, but in front of it sits a car. It’s one I know. The little sedan belongs to Dani’s friend, Nessa. I’ve put a name to a face and even introduced myself after she stared at me once a little too long to be polite.

She comes by every morning, or at least that’s what she told me earlier this week when we officially met, though I’m not sure you can call it that when she also called me ‘sugarbear’ and asked how much I could lift with a naughty glint in her eye.

Maybe she’s making a late delivery to Dani?

I get closer, pursing my lips when I realize her little beater is backed up within an inch of my front bumper. I glance behind my truck and see that I’m only an inch away from the hitch on the work trailer. That shouldn’t be a big deal—I could connect to the trailer, back the whole thing up, and then take the trailer with me for the weekend. Except, behind the trailer are two pallets of tiles that are covered with tarps and locked down tight. I’m completely blocked in.

I sigh as I meet Wayne’s eyes and he lifts his hands up like he has no idea what’s going on. But I do. I know exactly what’s happening. I’ve annoyed Dani, irritated her by interrupting her work flow, so she’s doing the same thing to me. Tit for tat.

I hold up a finger, telling Wayne to hold on a second, and approach Dani’s front door. I pull my wallet out, grabbing a fifty for her again, because annoying parking aside, I’m not going to break my promise to cover Joshua and his crew's payments. Even if she says she doesn’t want it, I made a promise. And I always keep my promises.

I knock, and Dani answers quickly, looking pleased with herself. I can see Nessa behind her in the small house’s living room, watching closely with a grin of her own.

“What?” Her brows are arched high like she’s expecting me to say something stupid and give her a target to hit.

“Hey, Dani, I’ve got your money from today,” I offer, holding up the bill. “Fifty, just like yesterday.”

That gets Nessa’s attention, and her smile falls, to be quickly replaced with suspicion as she narrows her eyes. “Money for what?” she demands.

I guess Dani hasn’t explained that part. “Ssh, I’ll tell you later,” she snaps at Nessa, waving a hand at her to leave it alone. But she’s grinning, and I realize something important… Dani Becerra is drunk, or at least tipsy. Friday festivities, indeed. Whatever alcohol she’s imbibed has given her dark eyes a bright light, flushed her cheeks, and made her smile easy and quick. Even for me. Her guard’s down, and while I’d never take advantage, it’s a pretty look on her. Especially as opposed to the frowning, glaring, hate-filled looks I usually get from her.

“Also,” I add, glancing into the living room with a smile of my own, “Nessa’s car is blocking me in. Nessa, could you please move it for a few minutes so I can get out?”

Nessa giggles and shakes her head. “Sorry, Sugarbear. We’re both druuuuunk and can’t drive. It wouldn’t be safe, right, or legal.”

She’s not that drunk, I can see that much. But I’m not going to argue that with anyone.

“Oh. Well, could I have your keys for a minute?” I ask Nessa, hoping she’s on my side. But that’s wishful thinking because Dani has obviously planned this whole thing out.

“Nope, you’re not on my insurance,” Nessa replies, fake slurring ‘insurance’ in the process. She might be a good friend, but she’s a horrible actress.

With a smile, Dani adds, “Yeah, guess you’ll have to walk home. No truck for you!”

Dani sounds a little too gleeful at inconveniencing me, but I can’t blame her. Especially if what the guys said earlier is true. With my truck where it is, she’s making double the trips to complete her day and busting her ass extra-hard. It’s not my fault exactly, but I’m probably easier to blame than Kathy.

“I see. What if I just… I dunno, pulled through your yard?”

“You wouldn’t!”

Actually, I wouldn’t, but I won’t say that. “Or I could put Nessa’s car in neutral and push it forward a bit.”

---