Page 38 of A Package Deal

My teeth worried my bottom lip. Fuck, she had a point. As much as I wanted to take over and make sure she never lifted a finger again, I also needed to respect her wishes.

“What if we strike up a compromise?”

She lifted a single eyebrow. “Warrick Wolfe knows how to compromise?”

“Hardy-har.” I stood, pulling her to her feet and making sure she was steady before I let go. “How about this? I jump in and save the day—as you put it—when it comes to our personal life. The house, Georgia, you know, home stuff. But your business is one hundred percent yours and I won’t make a suggestion or even hint at making a judgmental face when you make a decision.”

Em stared deep into my eyes for a long moment. Then she dipped her head in agreement. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

We stood there in the tiny lamplight in the corner of the room, just staring at each other. She was almost a foot shorter than me and yet she had the strength of a hundred-year-old oak tree, unbending and fucking majestic while she stood her ground. Not that I’d ever admit to comparing her to an oak tree. She hadn’t liked that bark comment.

“I’m looking forward to seeing the nonjudgmental look.” She pressed her lips firmly together, like she was trying to keep from smiling.

I inhaled deeply and then waved a hand in front of my face. “It looks like this.” I carefully kept my expression blank, but she just burst out laughing. “Hey! You’re judging my non-judging face. That’s very judgmental of you.”

Her hand landed in the middle of my chest as she giggled. Fuck, I didn’t know the woman could giggle. It was light and bubbly and so damn happy it made that ache in my chest come back.

“I’m going to bed,” she finally managed to say as she turned from me. “You might want to stay up and work on that face.”

I watched her walk away, her shapely legs now steady. I almost wished the alcohol was still in her system so I’d have a reason to pick her up and carry her. Just one last chance to inhale her lemony scent. One last chance to have her close to me before she put the hackles back up and fought me at every turn.

“Em,” I called out as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake up Georgia.

She turned at the entrance to the hallway. I took her in, the long hair hanging down her back loosely, the sundress highlighting her fit body, the relaxed expression on her face. Emmerleigh was a beautiful woman. Along with being immensely capable and strong. No wonder I had a crush on my contractor-slash-fake-wife.

“You look gorgeous tonight.”

Her blue eyes softened. “You look gorgeous every day.”

My jaw hit the floor. She smiled saucily and ducked around the corner to disappear down the hallway.

“She loves my snakeskin boots,” I said out loud to no one in particular.

Em’s muffled laughter trailed down the hallway.

I didn’t work on my nonjudgmental expression, but I did lie awake for hours that night, thinking about my wife telling me I looked gorgeous. I’d spent the last three weeks thinking she despised me and now she dropped that bombshell.

All I could think about was our compromise. Emmerleigh had seen nothing yet. I was going to spoil the hell out of her—according to our terms, of course—until she felt for me what I felt for her.

Like she just might be the person I’d spent the first half of my life looking for.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Emmerleigh

Savannah, a woman who’d answered my online job opening for a subcontractor, showed up right on time the next day, which was the first of many positive signs that she just might work out. She wasn’t as tall as Pip, but she was stronger than me and had enough tattoos dotting her skin to make me not question her toughness. We had the screened-in porch completed in no time, working around each other like a team that had been together longer than a day.

“All done with paint, boss. Ready to start framing the bedroom if you are. Wouldn’t mind a beer break though.” Pip wiped her paint-splattered hands on her overalls as she came out the back door onto the porch, smearing the dove-gray color on her clothes without a care.

We had exactly five days until Warrick’s mother came back from her cruise and still had a bedroom addition to tackle. It would take a miracle to finish it on time, but we just might squeak it out with Savannah on board, no more daycare hiccups for Georgia, and a city inspector that came out right away for all the permit checks.

And if I kept my eyeballs firmly on the job and not on Warrick.

My muscles ached with all the hours we were putting in and not getting good sleep at night wasn’t doing me any favors. The pounding headache this morning reminded me why I didn’t drink more than a few times a year. I needed to refocus on this job if I had any shot at getting that extra ten-thousand-dollar bonus. I had a feeling Warrick would give it to me anyway, but I didn’t want a handout if I hadn’t earned it. Especially not since I knew he’d been taken advantage of before. I wouldn’t be one in a string of gold-digging women in his life.

“And we’re all done with the porch. What do you think? Did we miss anything?” The three of us stood tool belt to tool belt, looking at the porch with a discerning eye. It looked damn good, if I did say so myself.

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