Page 33 of One Touch

I shook my head and squinted against the sun. “Yeah. Not a big fan of the Millers. I can see that.” I stuck out my hand, hoping to steer the conversation away from his sister. “The crew knows what to do. I’ll see you in a few days.”

* * *

“What’s got you smiling?”Gloria, my office manager, lowered herself into the leather chair across from me.

I quickly locked my phone and set it face down on my desk. “Nothing important.”

Gloria was a seasoned manager, and there was no way in hell I’d be able to get as much done or be as efficient without her help. Where I could visualize a space and know exactly what needed to be done, she was the queen of spreadsheets and expense reports. Without her, I was sure I would have run Miller Custom Homes into the ground within a year, simply because I couldn’t be bothered with things like billing and micromanaging my schedule.

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but since I have you, I wanted to give you a rundown of the current projects.”

I nodded and gave her my full attention.

“This Michigan project ...” Gloria lifted a white eyebrow in my direction. “You realize you’re severely undercharging, correct?”

I tried to stifle a smile. Gloria was a fierce businesswoman under the sweater sets and pearls she loved so much. “I’m aware.”

Gloria continued. “Because of the attention thatprojectrequires of you, the only other job open is the office space on Madison. The crew should wrap that in the next day or so. I have the punch list.” She slid a piece of paper across my desk. It was beautifully organized, and I smiled at her.

“Don’t know what I would do without you, Gloria. Marry me?”

She smiled. “You couldn’t handle me, sweet boy. It’s humorous you think you could even try.” It was a running joke between the two of us. It didn’t matter that she was happily married and nearly thirty years my senior. She knew as well as I did that I wasn’t the marrying type.

“Back to the Michigan project,” she continued. “While I stand by my assessment that we could bring in nearly triple what you’re currently charging ...”

“Not about the money.” I sat back in my chair, amused when her eyes rolled upward.

“As I was saying.” She cleared her throat. “Apparently you have become quite popular on Instagram. I’ve been fielding calls left and right about people wanting to hire you. We need to discuss your workload and the calendar.”

“Send over the requests and I can review them.”

“It’s a lot.”

“How many is a lot?”

She considered. “Fifty-eight, give or take.”

I sat up in my chair. “Fifty-eight?”

“That’s just in the last few weeks. A lot of people are assuming that you and the woman who runs the Instagram account are a team.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “That’s the homeowner’s niece.”

She stood and lifted her hands. “That’s what I explained. Seems a lot of people are interested in hiring the pair.” Gloria stepped to the open doorway. “For what it’s worth, her account is gaining legs. It might not be a bad idea to lean into the whole Brutish Builder thing.” Her eyes flicked over me, and I frowned at her. “Not that it’s a stretch for you.” Her laugh floated through the office as she left.

A pair. Kate and I, working together.

The idea was ludicrous. She knew nothing about building or home renovation outside what she could google or watch on YouTube. I leaned back and opened my phone. When Gloria had walked in, I’d been studying the most recentHome Againpost Kate had uploaded.

She was sitting on the top stair of the farmhouse with construction debris all around her. Across from her was the local business owner who’d supplied the lumber for the new porch. The snapshot had caught Kate smiling as they shared a cup of coffee in the early dawn hours. Light slanted through the trees in the distance, chickens pecked around on the ground below them, and whatever filter Kate had applied to the picture gave it an ethereal feel.

Nearly two thousand likes.

Kate had used the post to highlight the small business and also to discuss locally sourced lumber versus purchasing from a big-box store. She might not have realized it, but with one post, she’d likely single-handedly boosted sales for a struggling local business.

A wave of pride washed over me as I studied her smiling face. Her head was tipped back in laughter, her long legs tanned by the summer sun.

She should wear jeans in a construction site. She knows this—I’ve told her a hundred times to stop wearing those goddamn shorts.

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