Page 22 of Tell Me Again
CHAPTER SIX
“Can you explain why I’m paying you a crap load of money to build my house and you’re sticking me with some lackey?”
Trevor took a steadying breath the following Monday morning and adjusted his sunglasses before turning to Jolene Stone, the owner of the flagship lot on which they stood. “Dale Rogers is one of the best construction foreman working in the state of Colorado, and I trust him as much as I trust myself. To call him a lackey is insulting to both of us.”
“He’s not you,” Jolene said with a frown that Trevor would have described as petulant if the woman wasn’t a thirty-something business owner and recent heir to the most revered development company in the county.
“I’m here now, at your request,” Trevor said, keeping his voice steady by sheer will. He was due to meet with an electrician at Bryce Hollow Camp in fifteen minutes and was going to be lucky to get over there in thirty. “Do you have a problem with our progress?” He gestured to the structure, which was rapidly starting to look like a house due to a week of great weather and the hard work of his framing crew.
“Well, no,” Jolene stammered, kicking at the ground with the toe of one expensive high-heeled boot. “That’s not the point.”
“I assume you have one,” Trevor muttered. His mood had been black since that last conversation with Sam. She’d been avoiding him, and Grace was giving him the silent treatment.
He tried to tell himself it was for the best. He’d started work on the repairs to the camp’s main cabin with David Henderson’s help, and Grace had realized that if she took a different school bus route, she could get off at a stop very near the mile-long dirt road that led to camp.
Sam had volunteered to pick her up each day, and both Sam and his daughter made sure their time together wasn’t spent with him. He felt out of the loop and out of control, and dealing with Jolene’s unnecessary hissy fit wasn’t helping.
“The point is,” Jolene said slowly, moving slightly closer to Trevor. “This house is supposed to be the showpiece for my new development.”
“It will be,” Trevor agreed.
“It better be.” Jolene reached for his arm and squeezed, leaning into him. She wasn’t one for personal boundaries. “The whole reason I’m giving you a chance is because you understand my vision.”
“That’s true.” And it was. Even though Trevor didn’t particularly like Jolene Stone, he respected the environmentally sound construction principles she wanted to employ for this high-end subdivision. While Jolene’s father had developed pricey properties in mountain towns all over the state, the old man’s heyday had been before green building was a priority in the industry, and he’d never seen the need to change his building practices. Henry Stone had retired last year, and Jolene had taken over the family company. It had been a big deal for Stone’s daughter to be handed the reins of the business. She was determined to develop properties in a different way than her father. Trevor’s reputation in sustainable building preceded him, so shortly after he’d founded his company in Colorado Jolene had come calling.
Maybe that hadn’t been the only reason. Her flirting was part of the package. At least that’s what Trevor told himself. For the most part he ignored her innuendos and not-so-veiled suggestions.
He’d moved Grace to Colorado because they both needed a change after Nana died, and because he wanted the chance to be his own boss. For that and other reasons, he’d been reluctant to form a partnership with Stone Development and relinquish control of what he was building. In the end, a steady stream of income, especially when he was intent on adding to Grace’s college fund, had convinced him to agree to it.
“I’d thought you also understood that this is my project, and I’ll staff it as I see fit. As long as Kincaid Homes gives you the houses you want, nothing else is important.”
“But I want you,” Jolene whined.
“Again,” Trevor said through clenched teeth, “I’m here now. What exactly can I do for you?”
“I want to know what else you’re working on,” she said quietly. “Is it another house? Are you working with someone else?”
Trevor fought the urge to groan. This was why he normally took on only his own projects. He didn’t like answering to anyone. “I’m helping out a friend.”
“What kind of friend?” She raised one delicately arched eyebrow. “A girlfriend?”
“You and I have a business agreement,” Trevor said with a patience he didn’t feel. “We’ve talked about this, Jo.”
“I like it when you call me Jo.” She gave him a suggestive smile. “I don’t like to share. You know that. You’re making a good bit of money thanks to me.”
“And you’re going to have the most environmentally friendly and structurally sound home this side of the Continental Divide. Don’t push it.”
“Come on, Trevor. This is a small community. There are no secrets here.”
“It’s no secret,” he said quickly, knowing if he tried to keep something from Jolene, she’d only become more interested in discovering the details. “I have an old friend who owns a summer camp. The recent snowstorm damaged a couple of the buildings, so I’m helping repair them. End of story.”
“Or just the beginning.” Jolene’s eyebrows rose so much they almost hit her hairline. “You mean Samantha Carlton?” She screeched the words. “The flippin’ supermodel?”
Trevor felt his jaw clench. “That’s not how I knew her.”
“It’s how everyone knows her,” Jolene said with a dismissive wave. “Sam Carlton buying that property was the biggest news in this part of the state since I can remember. I’d say I’m offended, but even I’d throw me over for a supermodel. Especially one with her reputation.”
“There is nothing to throw over,” he answered, feeling his jaw clench. “Sam and I grew up together. There’s nothing more to it. She needs repairs on the camp because—”
