Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

E mmerleigh

"Mama! My fingies are prunes!" Georgia called from the bathtub of the house I rented from a particularly grumpy lawyer in town. I pushed the door open and nearly cursed at the sight of the water and bubbles she'd splashed on every available surface. Even the ceiling was dripping. I tamped down my irritation. I wasn't mad at Georgia. I was mad at the world tonight, and my little girl didn't need to bear the brunt of my ire.

I grabbed the bath towel and motioned for her to stand up. "Come on, mermaid princess, let's get your human form dry."

Georgia giggled, climbing out of the bathtub and letting me scrub the towel from head to toe before sending her on her way to the second bedroom where her clean pajamas waited for her on the bed. Then I got to work, mopping up the water with extra towels and putting away the bath toys. My left thumb was pulsing, thanks to the hammer I accidentally hit it with this morning replacing Betty's skirting. The job was done though, and I had a new one lined up for tomorrow, which meant I would ignore my injury in favor of paying jobs.

If I could find a crew.

And that was a big if. While Georgia had relocated all the water in the bathtub to the walls and ceiling, I'd sat in the hallway and called all the subcontractors I knew of in this town. So far, I'd only been able to secure two and both weren't exactly hard workers from the little I knew of them. Warrick Wolfe wanted a lot done in only three weeks. But ten grand was a lot of money. Enough to get a better truck. Or save for a down payment on my own little house here in Blueball. Georgia deserved to grow up in a home that had a yard full of green grass and a dog as her best friend. I was a single mom, but I was determined my little girl would lack for nothing.

I walked into Georgia's bedroom, eyeing the book she'd already put out for me, the longest one she owned. She jumped under the covers and lay down, being incredibly obedient so that she could finagle her way into me reading the whole book to her tonight. Instead of trying to negotiate a different—shorter—book, I sat on the side of the bed, my back against her headboard and settled in. At least reading would take my mind off Cayden's sudden interest in our lives. She curled into my side and put her tiny hand on top of my thigh. The sparkly purple nail polish I'd applied to her nails over the weekend had mostly chipped off. How could anyone be in a bad mood with this living reminder of how beautiful life really was?

"Love you, Mama," Georgia murmured after I read the last word and shut the book, long eyelashes fluttering as she struggled to keep her eyes open. My girl was a fighter with a raging sense of FOMO. She hated to fall asleep and miss even a moment of life.

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Climbing out of bed, I tucked the blankets around her and whispered back, "Love you too, baby. Sweet dreams."

While Georgia did, in fact, have sweet dreams, which she told me about in great detail as we drove to preschool, I did not. I had dark smudges under my eyes that told the story of tossing and turning because of Cayden. Damn that man. I thought I'd left him for good. He'd wanted nothing to do with me and Georgia since the moment he found out I was pregnant, so why bother us now? No amount of gnashing my teeth during the night had given me an answer to that question.

By some miracle, we weren't late to school this morning and Rosemary didn't have to leave the gate open for us. Georgia ran straight to her new friend and I got to the new jobsite before my two subcontractors.

After arriving at Timberwolfe Farms and ringing the doorbell at Warrick's house, I stepped back and surveyed the driveway. I'd need to call in a dumpster for all the items we planned to demo. The door swung open moments later and Warrick filled the doorway, and I do mean filled. The man was large, both in width and height. He sported another pair of pristine jeans, boots, and a T-shirt in slate gray today. He was unfairly handsome.

"Slaywright," he said by way of greeting, tacking on a smile that surprised me. He and I hadn't started off on the right foot. Between my striptease and his run-in with the cow, we'd both embarrassed each other.

"You can call me Em, Mr. Wolfe," I offered magnanimously.

He waved me inside, saying over his shoulder, "And you can call me Warrick."

I had to roll my lips inward and bite down to keep the laugh from escaping. The man was walking funny this morning, no doubt from that adorable cow yesterday.

"I got two men coming, so I expect we can have one bathroom demo'd today. I'll call in a dumpster also. Do you mind if it's parked in the driveway for about a week?"

Warrick stopped in the kitchen and took out a bottle of water from the ancient refrigerator, handing it to me. I took it, even though I wasn't thirsty yet. "No problem. I'll spend the morning getting everything out of the cabinets in the kitchen and moving furniture so you can get to the wood floors."

I nodded. "I'd appreciate that. I took the liberty of putting together a few suggestions for tile, countertops, and cabinets if you'd like to take a look. We need to order those as soon as possible to avoid delays." Warrick nodded, so I kept going. "I saw you signed off on the estimate I sent over last night. Any questions for me?"

Warrick grinned. "Just one. Have you had breakfast?"

I blinked, at a loss for words. "Yes."

"I've got fruit, protein bars, chips, and more water. Feel free to grab anything you might need. Your crew also." He snapped his fingers and reached behind me. I shifted to the side like a skittish colt. He withdrew a piece of paper from the drawer behind me and waved it in my face. "Your check, Em."

I licked my lips, refusing to acknowledge the shiver that racked my body at hearing my name from his mouth. "Thanks," I mumbled, taking the offered check and tucking it into my back pocket with my cell phone.

He just stood there, an inch or two too close to be comfortable for me, smiling. My nose picked up on aftershave, a scent that only added to the weakness in my knees. What was going on here? I didn't even like Warrick. A guy who wears fancy boots and spotless jeans wasn't anywhere close to my kind of man.

The doorbell rang again and I jerked back. Warrick only grinned wider before spinning and heading for the door. I was ashamed to admit even to myself that I watched him go, appreciating those stupid fucking jeans for exactly one thing: they highlighted his lovely ass. Blinking my way out of whatever fog that aftershave had left, I went for the door too.

Bob and Smelly—yes, he swore on the phone that's the name he went by—stood there looking like dumb and dumber, country bumpkin edition. Bob had overalls that were the polar opposite of Warrick's spotless jeans. Smelly lived up to his name and flashed an almost toothless grin. Warrick's smile had vanished, leaving a pulsing vein in his temple.

"Glad you're on time, boys. Come on in and let's get going on the bathroom. Did you bring gloves?" I took over, used to dealing with all manner of subcontractors and needing to get the hell away from Warrick. I also needed to earn the other five grand.

Warrick let them in and they followed me, keeping up a running dialogue of their weekend escapades. It mostly involved fishing and beer cans. Warrick, praise the Lord, disappeared, letting us get to work. Bob swung the sledgehammer exactly one time and was already complaining about his back. Smelly offered to hold the extra-strength trash bags while I did the heavy lifting of moving all the broken tile from the floor to the bag. These two were just slightly above worthless, but beggars couldn't be choosers, so I tried to encourage them. When that tactic didn't work, I resorted to barking orders. In my hometown, I'd been known to bellow just below eardrum-bleeding levels. I was small, but I had a set of lungs on me.

"Bob! If you don't get that vanity in pieces in the next ten minutes, I'm going to assume you aren't fit for the job!"

The man gave me a sad face only a mother could love, but he got to swinging again.

"Smelly, put on your gloves and get to work. We don't need anyone to hold the damn bag!"

He grumbled under his breath, but followed orders. We were one hour into our demo when Bob insisted he needed a smoke break. I waved him away, not at all surprised when Smelly went with him, leaving me to finish putting all the debris in the bags. While they wasted fifteen minutes, I got to work unhooking the plumbing behind the toilet. Once that was done, I unbolted the porcelain and waited for Smelly to help me lift that toilet out of here.

They both came back smelly, which, under different circumstances, would have made me laugh, but I felt that ten grand slipping away from me.

"Smelly, grab the toilet and take it out to the driveway. Bob, get to chipping away at the shower tile."

"Ah man, my back is just about done, honey," Bob whined. Smelly, sensing my blood boiling, jumped into place, lifting with his back, not his legs, and carried the old toilet out of the bathroom.

I grabbed the sledgehammer and held it out to Bob. "You said last night you were good for a whole day of demo. What the hell happened?"

He had the good graces to look down at his boots. "That was yesterday. Today's back is feeling a little puny."

I sucked in a deep breath and counted to ten. When I got to ten, I didn't feel any better. It took everything I had to keep my voice level. "Bob. Finish the demo."

He shook his head, pursing his lips. "No can do, ma'am. I'm plum tuckered out."

"Then I'll pay you for two hours." He lifted his head, already starting to smile. "But you're fired. Get the fuck out of here."

He pouted, grumbling about me being a mean woman, but I'd had enough. Doing it my damn self was better than putting up with this guy. He sniffled and my temper flared hot.

"There's no fucking crying in construction, Bob! Go before I rethink paying you for two whole hours when you only managed a half hour of actual work!"

The man moved faster than I'd seen all morning. Smelly came back, his thumb pointing over his shoulder. "Where'd Bob go? "

I shook my head. "And they call women the weaker sex. That's some bullshit right there, Smelly, don't you think?"

He twisted up his face and scratched his messy head of unwashed hair. "Uh, yeah?"

He lived up to his ineptitude, but he did help me get the entire bathroom demo'd by midafternoon. When we walked back into the living room and I informed him we were going to start stripping the wood floors, he looked like he was about ready to lie down on said floors and die instead. Then he actually dropped to all fours.

"I thought we were done for the day!" he whined, voice higher than Georgia's when she played dolls.

Warrick poked his head in the room from the hallway, his gaze dropping to Smelly and then up to me. There was something fiery dancing in his eyes, but he stayed quiet. Embarrassed at the subcontractors I'd hired, I was more curt than I should have been.

"Get up!"

Smelly collapsed and rolled toward the front door as if he was going to roll right on out of here instead of use his God-given legs. "I can't do it. I'm so dehydrated my muscles are locking up! I'm one squat away from dying here, lady! I quit!"

I gaped at him. When he hit the far wall, he popped up on all fours and crawled right out the fucking door. A deep chuckle from the hallway tossed gasoline on the flames dancing through my chest. I turned my head toward Warrick.

"Need some help?" he quipped.

"Arghh!" I stomped out of the living room to more laughter, intent on finding Smelly in the driveway and giving him a piece of my mind before I got my sanding tools and got busy on the hardwood floors by myself. The little man was already gone.

"Muscle cramps, my ass," I muttered. A loud moo was my only reply. I glanced over at the cow and lifted a hand in greeting.

I had the sander in one hand and the shop vac in the other when my phone rang. I set it all down on the porch and grabbed the phone out of my back pocket, careful not to lose the check. Shit, it was the preschool.

"Em Slaywright," I said quickly.

"Hi, Em. This is Tori from the front office. We have a bit of a situation. There's been an outbreak of lice in the preschool classroom. Georgia seems fine, but protocol requires us closing down until we can get the classroom sanitized. Probably a few days. We need you to come pick up Georgia."

I dropped my chin to my chest, eyes closing. Shit, shit, shit.

"Um, yeah, okay. Just give me fifteen minutes," I managed to respond.

"Great! Oh, and we'll have a printout for you on what products to buy and how to de-lice if Georgia shows any signs. Make sure you grab that from the office before you go."

"Will do," I said faintly, ending the call and shoving my phone back in my pocket.

"More problems?" Warrick drawled.

My head snapped up to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. I hadn't heard him walk up. I should just hand him back the check right now. There was no way I'd get this project finished on time. I'd be lucky just to get the kitchen and bathrooms done in three weeks.

"Lice at the preschool."

His face was unreadable. "You're a mom?"

I nodded once. "Yes. To a five-year-old girl. I need to go pick her up and find a new crew. I probably won't be back until tomorrow." Fuck. That was assuming I'd find something to do with Georgia. Could I find a babysitter on short notice?

Warrick pushed off the doorframe. "Just bring her here. There's plenty of animals to keep her occupied."

My mouth dropped open but no words came out. Warrick's eye sparkled with humor. Nothing about this situation was funny. He grabbed the sander and the shop vac from the ground and tossed his head toward my truck .

"Go get her and bring her here."

My head was already shaking. "I can't bring her to a farm. She's five. I'd have to watch her like a hawk and then who would do the work?"

Warrick stood up straighter, his muscles looking delicious in that expensive shirt. "You work, I'll watch Georgia. Kids love me."

And then he walked back into the house, leaving me with absolutely no choice in the matter. Not if I wanted to keep this job.