Page 12 of Sugar Pie
He pointed to the kitchen counter. “Well, you have a phone with service.”
“You know I do.” Normally, sex discussions didn’t begin with stating the obvious. I had to trust my instincts, at least the ones that didn’t want to see more of him. We were never getting naked together. For the time being, I relaxed my shoulders. “What are you leading up to with the obvious?”
He sipped his wine and stared at me. His lips thinned as though it tasted bad, which it did. It wasn’t good at all, but I wasn’t sure how to shop clearance wines. I’d never thought about the cost of the one thing no one had ever questioned me about, as good, proper wives could at least drink their days into oblivion without consequence .
He put his glass down. “I need to start booking general contracting jobs in the area. I was thinking that if you can make the appointments and the schedule, I can do more jobs and less searching for them.”
I trusted him, and the deal sounded great. But I wasn’t stupid, and there had to be more to his plan. Helping him that much wasn’t in the cards for me. I needed to stand on my own two feet, not find a partner. I had to find a way to pay for myself, but I nodded. “That’s true.”
He folded his hands on the table. “So how about you get the agent fee of fifteen percent for every job you get for me. I’d like to have five or six jobs in a day. I charge two hundred an hour, minimum, and I can fix just about anything in a house. The rent here is six hundred a month, so that would make up for whatever minimum wage might be, and we would be helping each other.”
Two hundred a day was a thousand in a week if he took five jobs. Fifteen percent would be fifteen hundred a month minimum, but if the deal included room and board, then it was a start. I could get him more than five hours of work booked. My heart leapt. I would be able to afford a lawyer and provide for myself.
I stopped and folded my hands around my waist. Working with Warren meant I would depend on him too much. My mind flooded with questions.What if he got sick? What if he had some horrible flaw? What if whatever was between us dissipated?
I needed to not get carried away. I wouldn’t take the deal. He didn’t need to solve my problems—I did. Handouts wouldn’t help me, and his offer felt like charity meant to solve my issues for me.
It wasn’t as if he knew anything about me. I sipped my wine and silently agreed that it tasted gross. “That’s a lot to charge people, since you don’t even own a ladder.”
He blinked and stared at me like he needed to convince me. “Mrs. Morris paid me for the chandelier, and my equipment is arriving any day. I’m new, but working with my hands was something I did all my life.”
He must have wanted to prove he was capable. He wasn’t a doctor like my ex, but I was sure he made a decent living, even if something had happened to him to land him in Greenville. We were strangers to each other, so I sipped my wine and then said, “Must be nice to know how to fix things, but I’m not a project like a chandelier or a broken windowpane.”
“You’re more a treasure than anything else.” He sipped his wine. “Besides, I want to buy a house. I figure with you on board helping me, I can find that place sooner.”
At least he had a plan. I needed to figure out mine, I supposed. Friends didn’t use each other. I would help him for a few days while I worked on my résumé. “So you’re offering me a job when you can do that yourself and keep all the money you earn?”
He shrugged then sipped. “Your help makes it easier to fit in more jobs. I’m in for seven in a day right now if the schedule allows, since I won’t be spending time on the computer. And besides, I thought you needed to get money fast.”
That was true, but it was important that I sustained myself. I finished my wine. “We both do, it seems. Why is buying a house so important to you? Bringing in a girlfriend or wife?”
He laughed. “I’m not married and have no girlfriend. I’m buying a house because I want to fix it up and sell it for a quick profit.”
A house didn’t seem like a quick cash cow, as it would need hard work and time. But I wouldn’t criticize. His plan was better than no plan. Electricity sparked between us in the air, or maybe it was just me. “Why do you need money fast?”
He paused and narrowed his gaze. “I’m looking to start a bigger business, and I figure this is my easiest path to start-up funds.”
I believed him. “Why are you so driven right now?”
“I promised my family I’d take less than a year to figure myself out.”
“I don’t have a clue about my own future yet.” There was something else, too, but I couldn’t figure out what. I looked into my empty glass. “Well, I contacted some résumé help and hope you don’t mind that I want to find my own job and not take more of a handout. I need to stand on my own.”
He shrugged and took his glass to the kitchen. “It’s not a handout. I need help, but I won’t force you.”
I followed him and placed my hand on his shoulder. The touch sent a shockwave through me, and I let him go quickly. “You’re a nice guy, Warren Tate. I stopped believing guys like you even existed.”
He took my glass and washed it. “Honestly, I’m overwhelmed right now, so having you stay is helping ground me.”
That felt honest. I smiled as we walked into the living room. “Do you need to be grounded?”
His eyes widened, and he winked at me. “I didn’t think so, but I like it when you do it.”
A giggle escaped my throat, but I waved it off as I walked into the bedroom. “When I do it, huh?” Flirting felt good.
He just stood there. “Good night, Kerry.” He put the shirt in my hand.
“Good night, Warren.” I closed the bedroom door.
