Page 15 of Single-Minded
“What would you do if you were me?” she asked.
I laughed. “Well, if I were me, I’d do the work myself on the weekends. If I were you, I’d try to find a couple of guys who knew what they were doing to do it after hours and make it worth their while financially.”
“Like your coworkers.”
“Something like that.” The thought of Nathan or Paul or Nick or Fritz working with her after hours didn’t sit right.
“Are you interested?” she asked, pegging me with a hopeful look.
I couldn’t think of a less feasible idea, what with my girls and my…attraction. I shook my head. “I’m a single dad. My girls don’t get enough of my time as it is.”
She nodded, pacing slowly with her arms crossed. “Can you give me any names of someone who could take a look and help me figure out what I need? I’m willing to do as much of the work as I can, but I’d need guidance.”
“You’re going to put up walls and install plumbing?”
Her shoulders sank a little. “Not by myself, obviously. Do you have anyone on your crew who doesn’t have a family and might want to earn extra money?”
I gritted my teeth, imagining one of our guys spending time with Presley. “Tell me more about what you need done.”
“I don’t really know. I need an expert to help me figure it out. Maybe Levi?”
I checked my watch. Flora would likely be dropping off the girls in the next half hour. The former community center was across the square from the diner. I could have her bring them to me there.
“I’ve got a few minutes if you can show me now,” I said.
It was a bad idea, but I told myself I could use the extra money for my girls. And the hell if I was going to let Levi or any of the other thugs I worked with be her contractor knight in shining armor.
If she was going to be invigorated, I wanted to be the one helping her get that way.
Chapter Five
West
The whirlwind named Presley had been upgraded in my mind to a hurricane.
Hurricanes did more damage, and she had the potential to wreak absolute havoc on me.
But only if you let her, I reminded myself.
On the short drive to the former community center, I’d texted Flora the change in plans. Then I’d reined myself in. Reminded myself taking on this project would be a bad idea. I was hearing her out, and I’d give her my two cents. Then I was out.
I was far from a coffee expert, but listening to her spout her ideas and plans was starting to make me excited about the prospects of her shop. That’s how powerful her energy and enthusiasm were.
She’d nabbed the best spot in the former city-owned building—the front corner that faced the square as well as the walkway down the side. There were a few larger spaces and three smaller ones. Hers was the best of the smaller ones and ideal for what she had in mind for her coffee shop.
“So office and storage in back, two single gender-neutral restrooms over here,” I summarized, pointing. “The kitchen in that area, the counter here, and the self-serve area there?”
“What do you think of that?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I have no experience with running a coffee shop, so all I can offer is a construction viewpoint.”
“Which is?”
“It’s doable and not very complex. A lot depends on what kind of kitchen you want.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do about food, if anything,” she said, “but I’d like a full kitchen in place, with more than one oven.”
“How soon do you want this?”
