Page 4 of Single-Minded
I cleared my throat and felt like an old-time cartoon character with stars dancing around my head but fuck that.
“Morning,” I said. “I’m West Aldridge from Dawson Construction.”
“I know.” Her smile turned knowing in a way that made my blood race. She held out her delicate-looking hand and surprised me with the firmness of her shake when I took it. “I’m Presley Holiday.”
My blood raced like it was not supposed to race on a job. Or preferably ever.
“Come on in, West.”
I followed her inside, cussing inwardly and steeling myself against the effect this woman had on me in the first five seconds of meeting her.
Chapter Two
Presley
West Aldridge at close range had even more impact on me than he had across a crowded patio three weeks ago at Rowan and Chance’s party.
Those stunning green eyes were kind and attentive. His square jaw was solid, strong, and made all the more masculine by his beard. When we’d shaken hands, his was large and undoubtedly powerful, yet his touch had been restrained, almost gentle. As we’d made physical contact, my heart had fluttered in my chest.
I was so not the flutters-from-a-guy type.
As I stepped back to let him into my home, I took him in as a whole. He wore a black tee that revealed biceps I wasn’t going to get out of my head anytime soon. His muscular legs were thick beneath cargo pants. And that tool belt…
I hadn’t realized I was into guys with beards and tool belts until now.
“Levi had an emergency,” West said as he looked around at my new home. “He might join us later, but we’ll start without him.”
“I’m sure you and I can handle it just fine,” I said, allowing my lips to curve into a flirty smile.
“Once you show me around, I won’t need to bother you.” His tone wasn’t unkind, just businesslike. No grin in return. Not at all flirty.
Okay. I could read a guy. Business it was then. He’d be here for who knew how many weeks. Getting along was key. Which of course meant crossing any lines into flirtation would be a bad idea.
I was down with that. This eye candy might’ve been part of the reason I’d called Dawson Construction in the first place but only a small part. Multiple recommendations for Levi’s company from my friends and their friends weighed a lot more heavily than the instant attraction I’d had to West at that party.
That kind of reaction to a man wasn’t normal for me, but then nothing in my life had been normal for the past three weeks. I’d jumped straight off the cliff of normal when I’d walked out on my career.
“I’m assuming you have the plans from Levi?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He held up a thick contractor’s portfolio, but I almost didn’t notice as I tried to swallow the ma’am.
I was thirty-five years old. I’d put West close to my age, maybe a couple of years younger. There was no need for him to ma’am me. But maybe that was just him being polite.
“We’re gutting this whole level,” he said. “Opening it up. New kitchen, new master suite, powder room, utility room, new everything, plus finishing the bonus room above the garage.”
“Yes.” I stepped from the foyer into the hall. “There’s the formal dining room.” I pointed at the mostly enclosed room, then to the opposite side. “Living room, obviously.” We walked down the short hall to the kitchen doorway. “Powder and utility are that way. Kitchen’s here.”
He glanced to the powder room, then followed me into the kitchen. “We got some eighties going on here with the walled-off rooms, huh?”
“So much eighties,” I said. “I fell in love with the lot and the view. The house is okay but…”
“We’ll make it better. Nice breakfast nook. We’re updating the glass there, right?”
He wasn’t referring to his notes, so I could tell he’d studied the plans.
“Right,” I said of the sunroom-style alcove. “Make it look like today instead of yesteryear.”
He eyed the kitchen, taking in relevant details, nodded, then said, “And the master?”
