Page 7 of A Package Deal

While Georgia did, in fact, have sweet dreams, which she told me about in great detail as we drove to preschool, I did not. I had dark smudges under my eyes that told the story of tossing and turning because of Cayden. Damn that man. I thought I’d left him for good. He’d wanted nothing to do with me and Georgia since the moment he found out I was pregnant, so why bother us now? No amount of gnashing my teeth during the night had given me an answer to that question.

By some miracle, we weren’t late to school this morning and Rosemary didn’t have to leave the gate open for us. Georgia ran straight to her new friend and I got to the new jobsite before my two subcontractors.

After arriving at Timberwolfe Farms and ringing the doorbell at Warrick’s house, I stepped back and surveyed the driveway. I’d need to call in a dumpster for all the items we planned to demo. The door swung open moments later and Warrick filled the doorway, and I do mean filled. The man was large, both in width and height. He sported another pair of pristine jeans, boots, and a T-shirt in slate gray today. He was unfairly handsome.

“Slaywright,” he said by way of greeting, tacking on a smile that surprised me. He and I hadn’t started off on the right foot. Between my striptease and his run-in with the cow, we’d both embarrassed each other.

“You can call me Em, Mr. Wolfe,” I offered magnanimously.

He waved me inside, saying over his shoulder, “And you can call me Warrick.”

I had to roll my lips inward and bite down to keep the laugh from escaping. The man was walking funny this morning, no doubt from that adorable cow yesterday.

“I got two men coming, so I expect we can have one bathroom demo’d today. I’ll call in a dumpster also. Do you mind if it’s parked in the driveway for about a week?”

Warrick stopped in the kitchen and took out a bottle of water from the ancient refrigerator, handing it to me. I took it, even though I wasn’t thirsty yet. “No problem. I’ll spend the morning getting everything out of the cabinets in the kitchen and moving furniture so you can get to the wood floors.”

I nodded. “I’d appreciate that. I took the liberty of putting together a few suggestions for tile, countertops, and cabinets if you’d like to take a look. We need to order those as soon as possible to avoid delays.” Warrick nodded, so I kept going. “I saw you signed off on the estimate I sent over last night. Any questions for me?”

Warrick grinned. “Just one. Have you had breakfast?”

I blinked, at a loss for words. “Yes.”

“I’ve got fruit, protein bars, chips, and more water. Feel free to grab anything you might need. Your crew also.” He snapped his fingers and reached behind me. I shifted to the side like a skittish colt. He withdrew a piece of paper from the drawer behind me and waved it in my face. “Your check, Em.”

I licked my lips, refusing to acknowledge the shiver that racked my body at hearing my name from his mouth. “Thanks,” I mumbled, taking the offered check and tucking it into my back pocket with my cell phone.

He just stood there, an inch or two too close to be comfortable for me, smiling. My nose picked up on aftershave, a scent that only added to the weakness in my knees. What was going on here? I didn’t even like Warrick. A guy who wears fancy boots and spotless jeans wasn’t anywhere close to my kind of man.

The doorbell rang again and I jerked back. Warrick only grinned wider before spinning and heading for the door. I was ashamed to admit even to myself that I watched him go, appreciating those stupid fucking jeans for exactly one thing: they highlighted his lovely ass. Blinking my way out of whatever fog that aftershave had left, I went for the door too.

Bob and Smelly—yes, he swore on the phone that’s the name he went by—stood there looking like dumb and dumber, country bumpkin edition. Bob had overalls that were the polar opposite of Warrick’s spotless jeans. Smelly lived up to his name and flashed an almost toothless grin. Warrick’s smile had vanished, leaving a pulsing vein in his temple.

“Glad you’re on time, boys. Come on in and let’s get going on the bathroom. Did you bring gloves?” I took over, used to dealing with all manner of subcontractors and needing to get the hell away from Warrick. I also needed to earn the other five grand.

Warrick let them in and they followed me, keeping up a running dialogue of their weekend escapades. It mostly involved fishing and beer cans. Warrick, praise the Lord, disappeared, letting us get to work. Bob swung the sledgehammer exactly one time and was already complaining about his back. Smelly offered to hold the extra-strength trash bags while I did the heavy lifting of moving all the broken tile from the floor to the bag. These two were just slightly above worthless, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, so I tried to encourage them. When that tactic didn’t work, I resorted to barking orders. In my hometown, I’d been known to bellow just below eardrum-bleeding levels. I was small, but I had a set of lungs on me.

“Bob! If you don’t get that vanity in pieces in the next ten minutes, I’m going to assume you aren’t fit for the job!”

The man gave me a sad face only a mother could love, but he got to swinging again.

“Smelly, put on your gloves and get to work. We don’t need anyone to hold the damn bag!”

He grumbled under his breath, but followed orders. We were one hour into our demo when Bob insisted he needed a smoke break. I waved him away, not at all surprised when Smelly went with him, leaving me to finish putting all the debris in the bags. While they wasted fifteen minutes, I got to work unhooking the plumbing behind the toilet. Once that was done, I unbolted the porcelain and waited for Smelly to help me lift that toilet out of here.

They both came back smelly, which, under different circumstances, would have made me laugh, but I felt that ten grand slipping away from me.

“Smelly, grab the toilet and take it out to the driveway. Bob, get to chipping away at the shower tile.”

“Ah man, my back is just about done, honey,” Bob whined. Smelly, sensing my blood boiling, jumped into place, lifting with his back, not his legs, and carried the old toilet out of the bathroom.

I grabbed the sledgehammer and held it out to Bob. “You said last night you were good for a whole day of demo. What the hell happened?”

He had the good graces to look down at his boots. “That was yesterday. Today’s back is feeling a little puny.”

I sucked in a deep breath and counted to ten. When I got to ten, I didn’t feel any better. It took everything I had to keep my voice level. “Bob. Finish the demo.”

He shook his head, pursing his lips. “No can do, ma’am. I’m plum tuckered out.”

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