Page 12 of Single-Minded
Holding in a curse or twelve, I mentally spun through my options. First priority was my girls. I’d have words with Flora later.
I couldn’t leave the jobsite, not for this. There were emergencies that would warrant that, but this wasn’t one of them. This was a matter of soothing my little girls.
“Put Sienna on the phone,” I told Allison.
On the other end, I heard commotion, then Scarlet’s voice in the distance, which sounded excited instead of mad, then Allie’s muffled response.
Allie came back on. “She just got here. I’ll go help them load up. Anything I need to tell their mom?”
“I’ll handle her later,” I muttered. “Thanks, Allie.”
I disconnected and finally let out the blue streak I’d been holding in.
That woman… It was one thing to jack with my emotions—and she’d done that plenty back in the day—but it was an altogether different matter when you messed with my girls’.
As I stared out at the lake, I talked myself down from the ex-induced rage and frustration. As badly as I wanted to call Flora and lay into her right now, I knew the girls were with her. They’d hear everything, and I didn’t want that. I hoped they’d somehow have a fun dinner with their mom and her boyfriend.
The lake was relatively peaceful at the moment. A pair of ducks floated to the right of Presley’s dock, their eyes peeled for fish. Though the day was a scorcher, I stood under the pergola roof in the shade, and a light breeze blew over me. The guys’ racket was barely audible out here. I could see how this view and the peace could convince someone to buy the property in spite of all the work it needed.
When I turned to go back inside, I noticed a reusable water bottle with flowers on it and words in a script font that Presley must have left on the outdoor dining table. I stepped closer to read what the bottle said. Drink your effing water.
That drew the beginnings of a grin from me.
Then I noticed some kind of silky, gauzy robe thing draped over one of the chairs. It was cream-colored with a pink floral print. Feminine, delicate, sexy. I swallowed hard, trying not to imagine the client wearing the sheer wrap.
Looking away, I was struck by the contrast between the coarse, sassy water bottle saying and the sweet, flowery wrap. It intrigued me further. Was Presley sassy or sweet? Would she like dirty talk or sweet nothings in bed?
I groaned and shook my head at my dumbass self. That line of thinking was nothing but trouble.
When I went back into the house, it was quiet. I headed to the laundry room to find it empty of cabinets and men, but their tools were still there.
The door from the garage opened, and the guys returned.
“We got those all loaded up,” Paul said. “What’s next?”
“That’s all we’re gonna tackle here today,” I said. “You guys take those out to Sorensen’s and unload them. I’ll clean up here.”
“You going to hang around and wait for the homeowner?” Paul asked.
I shook my head. I needed to consult with Presley about her flooring choice, but I couldn’t do that until she saw fit to check in with us. I didn’t know when she’d be home.
“I can wait for her,” Nathan said, grinning like the clueless twenty-two-year-old he was. “She’s hot.”
“Shut it,” I snapped.
“Just stating a fact.”
I advanced on him. “That’s not appropriate. If you can’t figure that out, you know where the door is.”
“Dude, okay.” His grin disappeared. He raised his hands in surrender, then bent to pick up his tools.
I turned away, scowling, trying to ignore that I was more worked up than the situation called for. It wasn’t appropriate to say something like that ever, but the urge to shove the new guy as I’d advanced on him… That was just as out of line.
To Paul, I said, “Let me know if you have any problems delivering. Otherwise see you tomorrow.”
“Later,” Paul said, picking up his tool belt and taking out the truck keys. They went out through the garage and left me to tidy up.
Once I was done shop vaccing all the dust and debris from our day, I made sure our equipment was out of the way, then went to the patio door to lock it.
