Page 103 of The Fixer

Hope died on the vine.

Palm up, he placed his hand on the table in invitation, and she slipped her small fingers into it, as if it were the most natural act in the world. “Hey. You can talk to me about anything. And like I told you last night, I’mhonoredyou feel like you can share this stuff with me. Makes me feel useful.” He winked to lighten the mood.

“You’re plenty useful,” she hummed. Some of the light had returned to her eyes.

“Good to know you might see more in me than just my body.”

She laughed again, and this time it transformed her entire face. The change made him feel twenty feet tall. It also heightened his awareness that their fledgling relationship had experienced a paradigm shift. He didn’t understand its exact nature or what consequences it would bring. Crazy as it seemed, he only knew that he was falling for this woman, and he had no choice but to see where the journey led. Hopefully not on a one-way caboose to heartbreak.

Chapter 29

Inferior Service at Superior Prices

The sputtering rumble ofa truck drew Joy’s attention to the back window. Cully’s old beater rolled onto the back lot and parked beside the M3. Off went the engine, and Cully opened the driver’s side with a groaning squeak of metal. He rounded the back of his pickup and fiddled with the contents of the truck’s bed, which she couldn’t see from this angle.

Charlie was tending to business elsewhere, and she crossed her fingers he’d hurry up and get his bite-worthy man buns here. She didn’t trust Cully. Didn’t like being alone with him. If the guy was nasty enough to slash Charlie’s tires in the middle of the night, what else was he capable of? Not that they’d proved anything yet, but who else could it have been? Cully didn’t like her any better than she did him, judging by the contempt with which he usually regarded her.

He wouldn’t be her problem once she returned to Chicago, but when exactly would that be? Today was Tuesday, which meant what originallywas supposed to be a three-day trip had stretched to seventeen days with no exit plan in sight. Her excuse? She needed to help oversee the project. Make decisions. Except her capable partner had it well under control, and truth be told, she was in the way. She probably could have skedaddled back to Chicago and let him keep her up to date with progress reports, like they’d first discussed.

But therein lay her conundrum: the very partner managing the project and the town he lived in had become strong pulls to stay. For once in a long, dry stretch, she felt energy flowing through her veins. She could eat, she could sleep. Her brain still raced at light speed, but she was more relaxed than she’d been in years. Maybe because it wasn’t as bogged down with baggage from the past. Charlie made it so easy to unpack that baggage. Why was it that talking to him was easier than fessing up to her therapist had ever been? He was a wonderful sounding board who made her feelsafewhen she spewed out her secrets. Not that her therapist wasn’t, but Charlie was … Charlie. He had a way of making her see more clearly, of making her feel normal.

By being here with him, the fetters didn’t bind as tightly. Fall River blunted her troubles … or was it the scorching-hot sex with that great sounding board? No, the sexy times were the icing on the cake. And what icing they were.

Was her improved mental and physical health reason enough to continue ignoring her responsibilities in Chicago, though? She might tell herself she was putting in the effort needed to keep clients happy, but she was operating as the skeleton crew version of her former self.

Eventually, she had to go back. Sterling was becoming more unhinged every day—the incident from Saturday past being one example—and he was taking it out on Estelle, who didn’t deserve the brunt of his misplaced frustration.

With a dejected sigh, Joy rewound this morning’s conversation with her assistant, which had started off with Estelle pleading for advice on wrangling a recalcitrant Sterling.

“I’ve tried calling and emailing him,” Joy had assured her, “but he’s ignoring me. I know he’s mad, but I didn’t invite him to fly out here,” she had added defensively. Estelle had sworn that had Sterling booked the flight through her, she would have talked him out of it. At the very least, she would have warned Joy, and Joy believed her.

Beyond that issue was a client who was spiraling into panic mode. “He wants to fly in and meet face-to-face,” Estelle had advised. “When should I tell him you’ll be back?”

Joy had simply replied that she wasn’t sure. Sunny Estelle had grumbled—yes, grumbled—that she didn’t care to take another earful from him. “He’s complaining that he’s paying top dollar for crap service. I have to give him an answer, Joy, and soon.” Joy had promised to get back to her with an answer in a day or two.

Joy’s guilt-o-meter, a new and annoying gauge since arriving in Fall River, was inching ever closer to the top.

She put aside the troubling conversation and swung her attention to the man plodding across her backyard.Herbackyard? No, she needed to stop thinking of Crystal Harmony Haven as a Joy Holiday possession.

A quick rap at the back door, and she whipped it open. Cully made his usual assessing, cringeworthy sweep, and a cold wave of dread rolled through her. She couldn’t decide if it was a sneer or if he was virtually removing every item of clothing on her body. Either way, she was overcome by a need to scrub herself every time he did it.

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Can I see you outside for a minute? Need to show you something.”

“Yeah, sure.” Closing the door behind her, she tucked her arms around herself and followed him to a pile of lumber stacked in a far corner of the yard.

He pointed at it. “This is utility-grade lumber.”

She bit back the sarcastic “That’s nice” capering on the tip of her tongue.“And that’s important, why?”

“Because it’s inferior. It’s not what was spec’ed for the job.” He shoved a list of materials at her printed on paper with Past Perfect Restorations’ banner across the top.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“You’re paying for this.” He tapped his index finger on a line item and moved to the one below it. “And this. Select structural lumber. It’s top grade, the best. Costs more.” He lifted his eyebrows. “But what you have here is the cheap stuff. Lowest on the quality scale, which is the complete opposite of select structural. Top grade—most expensive—versus lowest grade, the most inferior and the least expensive.” He drew out the last words like she was either deaf or without a functioning brain.

“I understand what inferior means. What I don’t understand is why the materials that were ordered and paid for are not the ones sitting here. Unless there’s a different use for this stuff or someone made a mistake.”

A corner of his mouth tipped up in a wicked smirk that brought to mind a jackal. “You’ll have to ask the boss about that one. I suspect it has something to do with padding his pockets.”

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