Page 34 of To Have and to Scold

“Nailed it.” I lean on the doorframe, realizing I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. I end up here more than I care to admit.

I know my smile’s goofy, but I can’t seem to curb it.

“You don’t seem like a Monday lover. You seem like the type to be lying awake on Sunday night, dreading the next day. I know you like to have fun.”

“No, I really do enjoy Mondays. I love me a fresh, new week. And work is fun to me a lot of the time.”

I don’t mention how I really was lying awake last night, but not because I was dreading the week. It was because my brother had put the idea of asking Dallas on a date in my head, which led to a lot of existential questions that kept hounding me. Like, I wonder what big things Dallas will do this week. Why did she take this job in the first place? And what does she wear when she’s not in her fussy business wear?

Dallas’s mouth twitches. “Well, that’s good news because I just got off the phone with another couple who wants to take a tourof the mansion. They’re actually from the Atlanta area, funny enough.”

She’s bouncing on her toes, and her excitement makes me excited, too.

“That’s great. What do you need me to do to make it happen? We’ve got to impress them, right?”

Her lips scroll inward, and she frowns. “That’s an understatement. If I do a good job, I could get a great reference from them, which would mean a lot to the powers that be in Atlanta.”

“You, uh, planning on going back soon?”

Dallas smooths down her auburn hair, her gaze going around her office. She sits down at her desk and focuses on her screen. “Well, I never meant for Willow Cove to be a permanent thing, like years and years, you know?” She finally meets my gaze. “I don’t plan on being here long, to be honest.”

“Yeah. That’s understandable. So, when are you meeting with them?”

“Next week.” She sighs and takes a sip from her water bottle. “I hope the plumbing in the bathroom is finished. I have to say, I’m also stressing about the mansion being ready for weddings.”

“It’s gonna be ready.” And the plumbing in the bathroom is almost finished, but I don’t add that. The word “almost” is incriminating right now.

She rubs the center of her forehead with two of her fingers. “You keep saying that. But how sure are you? Come on, I’m not a client. I deserve to know what your actual timeline is.”

Frustration builds in my chest. “What makes you think I’m not being honest about the timeline? I’ve done this job for eight years. I know when a project will be ready.” I’m confident we’ll finish in time. How much of this confidence is history and fact based, and how much of it involves the need to not fail, I’m not quite sure. But what does it matter?

“Fine. But I was planning on going over there tonight and seeing what I could do to speed things along.”

She wants to help? “I don’t need you breathing down my neck on the jobsite, Dallas.”

“I won’t be breathing down your neck.” Her eyes are thin slits. “But since I don’t really know anyone in the area, and have plenty of time after my work is done, I might as well, right? Anything to help the cause.”

Images of her mudding sheetrock in her fancy, bright pink pants make a laugh escape, which in turn, causes her to glower at me. What exactly she expects to be able to do is beyond me, but her expression is so determined, I’m not going to argue.

“Well, you can’t go over there alone, Dallas.”

Chapter Twelve

Dallas

“You’re coming, too?” I lean back in my office chair, a hand-me-down from Walter that is surprisingly comfortable. I just wish it fit the aesthetic I’m going for: gold accents, tones of pink to complement my dear, sherbet-colored office supplies, and some woven fabrics, like a throw in the perfect beige.

His mouth clenches as he shakes his head, then, “Integrity Construction is serious about safety, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be traipsing around the site alone at night.”

I consider pushing back but realize it’s a fool’s errand. “Okay then, I’ll meet you there. I don’t want it to take up my regular workday, but Beck, we can’t be finishing it up the day of the wedding. There are professional photos to take, inspections we have to pass. I could go on and on.”

He seems to measure my words, his jaw grating against itself. “I’m playing beach volleyball right after work. And then I’m coaching my neighbor’s kid’s team practice afterwards. But I’d be happy to swing by the mansion later. Say eight thirty?”

Seriously? He thinks he can take the time to go play on the beach? “Are you sure it’s wise to be playing volleyball at a time like this? I mean, I understand you have to coach but—”

“I’m not going to just not show up, Dallas.”

“We only have a couple of weeks to finish everything, Beck!” My voice wobbles. I hate it when that happens. “This is getting serious, and you think you get to go hang out with your friends like you’re all a bunch of beach bums?”

---