Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

KYLE

W atching Dani make loops in and out of her house is almost a workout in itself. Or at least my heart thinks so because it's pounding like I'm the one jogging back and forth from the curb, and I'm standing still, feigning attention on Zeus so that he keeps working. Beneath my hat, I bounce my eyes toward the front yard again and again, this time appreciating the round curve of Dani's ass in the black skintight shorts she's wearing today when she climbs up on a truck's running board to hand over a bag of Styrofoam boxes to the crew lounging in the bed. They thank her with smiles, which she returns easily.

But as soon as she turns around, her smile falls. She's exhausted, running herself ragged and working herself to the bone, which is something I understand. It might not seem like I do much, considering my current stationary, supervisory position, but I work side by side with my crew during the day and prep quotes and project plans when there's time, which sometimes means working well into the night to keep my business running smoothly. I'm not an all-work-no-play type like I suspect Dani is, but I do my fair share of labor.

I'm not the only one distracted today, but thankfully, Zeus isn't distracted by Dani the way I am. Instead, he seems to have developed stage fright from the long line of trucks filled with guys watching our progress. Zeus is the best operator I've seen, but he's been skittish as a cat on a hot tin roof today, jerking the controls rather than smoothly gliding them the way he typically does.

He's almost done with today's dig goal, getting the last scoop of dirt from the main hole, when there's a loud whistle out front. "Motherfucker!" he hisses.

Focused on Dani again, I jerk my eyes back Zeus's way to see that he's accidentally pulled up one of the guide stakes. He hasn't done that since the first week after I hired him, but I don't have to tell the guys what to do. Wayne's already moving to fix it, and Frogger gives Zeus a thumbs-up. "Done." Then the three sets of eyes turn to me for final approval.

"Let me grab the plans to confirm."

I go out to my truck to get the pool blueprints to double-check the hole size—and yes, there are always jokes about gaping holes with my crew—and I smile at Dani, waving as we cross paths. To me, we're both hard workers doing our jobs with our whole beings. To her, I'm the asshole who's fucking her over, so she glares at me as her lip curls into a snarl. For good measure, she flips me off with both barrels.

Not rising to the taunt, I drop her a wink. "Is that an offer?" I wonder aloud, making sure she can hear me. Because despite Dani's bitchiness, I wouldn't say no. If I could get her to quit cussing me out and cursing my existence, I bet she'd be a firecracker in bed, dangerous to light and fun to watch explode. "A double offer, even."

In answer, she suddenly fake lunges at me threateningly. Given that there's a four-foot-high fence between us, I don't react, but the guys in the truck she just delivered to start chuckling at my misfortune. She keeps going, her next delivery weighing on her, and though I keep my eyes on Dani, not putting a sneak attack past her, I pull open the passenger door of my truck.

"I've never seen Dani so cantankerous. Maybe you should move," one of the guys suggests helpfully as he puts it in gear, ready to make way for the next truck. "Might save your paint job from getting keyed!" He doesn't wait for me to answer, loudly rumbling off down the street.

"Yeah, like I hadn't thought of that," I murmur to myself as I grab the blueprints.

The first few days on this job, I did half-expect to come out to my truck at the end of the day to find flat tires, or maybe even knifed ones, but like me, Dani must've realized that would only stop me from moving my truck. She seems like a smart cookie, though, so I'm pretty sure headlights, windshield, and paint job destruction are still on the table as viable options.

But the guy's suggestion does give me another idea, so instead of heading back into the yard, I approach the next truck waiting for food. I wave at the guys in the cab. "Hey, can I ask ya a question?"

"Sure, whatcha need?" the driver, a forty-something-year-old guy in a faded Polo shirt, asks. The driver is usually the crew lead, and he probably thinks I'm looking for workers. Except then he adds, "We do interior finishing, not pools, so what d'ya wanna to know about Dani?"

Shit, I guess I'm that obvious. "Got me. This job next door is gonna last weeks, and I don't want to piss her off any more than I already have. Any tips?"

The way I ask, he might give me ideas about parking, but I'm really hoping he's got some insight that'll help me with Dani herself. These guys clearly know her better than I do, and I'm not above asking for help when necessary.

He shrugs, and at first, I think he's not going to divulge anything. But then he looks toward Dani's front door like he's making sure she's not coming before offering, "She's strong, mouthy, a hard worker, and she's sweet as can be—if she likes you, which doesn't seem to be the case with you. Just to be upfront, if you hurt her in any way, and that includes her business, you'll have an entire line of trucks full of guys who're all ready to put you under your damn pool. Hoffa style."

It's not new information, exactly, but it confirms what I already suspected. Dani's the kind of person who inspires feelings of fondness and loyalty. And the driver isn't joking or exaggerating all that much. "Well, shit." I frown, scratching at my bottom lip with my thumb as I consider his words.

"Yup," the driver adds with a direct little nod that's half commiseration, half threat. "Dani can usually serve two trucks at a time, one in the street and one at the curb, but with you parked where you are, she's down to one at a time. Doubles her trips and her wait times, and we've got places to be."

"Wish I could park somewhere else, but not sure where I'd go." I gesture behind us, toward the lineup of my trucks. Wayne started carpooling the guys in, but still there's my truck, Wayne's, our trailer, and our equipment. "I already tried to negotiate, but my client's clear. No parking in her yard, and well, you know how that goes." I roll my eyes because if there's one thing guys like us know, it's that whatever the customer wants, the customer gets. Usually. Within reason.

"Your funeral," he answers, sounding like he'd pay good money to see that. "Now get away from my truck before she decides to fire us like she did that other crew." He waves his hand, shooing me away, and I take the hint, making my way to the back yard to check in on my own crew.

"Got the specs," I tell Wayne, holding up the tube with the blueprints inside.

"Took ya long enough. You get lost next door?" Wayne teases.

I wish. But instead, we re-check the measurements, including going into the hole itself to check slope and depth. It doesn't need to be perfect. That's what concrete's for. But I do want it relatively close in order to save time and cost.

Meanwhile, Zeus stands by the digger with bated breath, hoping he hasn't gotten himself in too much trouble. I'm actually not upset with him. All operators screw up every once in a while, and he barely knocked the guide stake down, which was a quick fix. No harm, no foul. But Zeus takes pride in being the best, and any deviation from that is a ding to his ego. Not giving a shit about the guide stake, the dig, or anything else, Frogger's attention is locked on his phone, but as soon as Wayne or I say the word, he'll hop back to work.

"We're good," I declare.

"Thank God," Zeus hisses with a fist pump. "Knew it."

Frogger slips his phone into his pocket and loudly asks, "Now what?"

I cut my eyes over to him, annoyed. He knows what's next because it's the same damn thing we do every time—set up the water and power lines for the mechanicals. But he wants me to say it. I shake my head at his juvenile stupidity and the power of inside jokes on a jobsite. "Pump."

He responds better when I add a little oomph to it, but I'm not taking that chance with Dani likely in her back yard where she can hear, or Kathy probably staring out the windows to watch us. But Frogger's more than willing to make up for my professionalism.

"That's right, boss man," Frogger answers loudly as he starts singing, complete with hip thrusts, "Pump up the jam, pump it up, ah, shh, pump it, pump it real good."

I've told him countless times that he's mixing up two old songs that aren't even in the same damn genres, but he doesn't care, or at least he doesn't care enough to not do it the next time. For Frogger, it's all about the hip thrusting and getting to say ‘pump' as much as humanly possible.

With a shared chuckle at his antics, we get back to it and all four of us are heads-down for the rest of the afternoon. I hear trucks out front and guys calling out their names for their orders but manage to stay focused because dealing with electricity isn't the kind of thing you want to do distracted. Especially since that electricity's going to be used around water.

It's after five when we call it a day. Sitting back on my haunches in the dirt, I realize I can hear music and laughter coming from Dani's place. It's not loud enough to be obnoxious. It's actually sort of pleasant and celebratory, though Kathy would probably disagree. But I can definitely hear the beat of drums and whine of horns. And the laughter is a welcome surprise, especially from Dani's.

"What's that?" I ask, and Wayne shrugs.

"Music started about an hour ago," he says casually. "Friday festivities, maybe?"

"Good for her," I comment as I look over at the house. I can't see anything from here—no flash photography in the kitchen window and no one on the back porch. I guess Dani already cleaned the grill from today's cook-stravaganza, or maybe she's giving herself an evening off and will take care of it tomorrow. "Alright, let's get gone."

I don't have to tell my guys twice. Zeus and Frogger were already one foot here and one foot gone for their own Friday night fun. Frogger especially, who probably has a dinner date, club plans, and a backup hook-up in case either of those don't result in a dick draining.

"See ya, boss man," Zeus shouts as he heads for Wayne's truck. He and Frogger are fucking with each other, poking and punching like wayward siblings as they make their way out front, where they'll wait for Wayne. He's still got another half hour of their goofiness to deal with as he takes them back to their respective homes. It's a system that saves the guys some gas, but also saves on parking spaces, although Wayne insists that he's just going to make the guys ride bicycles because of their idiocy. Better him than me , I think with a grin.

"I'm gonna update Kathy before heading out, so I'll see ya Monday," I tell Wayne with a wave.

"Better you than me on this one. Out, demon. I rebuke thee," he tosses back, making an X with his fingers and hissing at the house. Guess we each have our shit to deal with.

I shouldn't laugh, but I can't help it, biting my fist as I hold back the guffaw. Kathy is a demon of the Snobby, Entitled variety, but her money transfers into my account the same as anyone else's, so we'll finish this job like every other.

The bad news is that we're only at phase one, so I need to try and remain professional around her for as long as I can.

At Kathy's back door, I knock and step back to wait. And then wait some more, because there's no answer. Just when I think she's not coming and am thanking my lucky stars, she strolls up to the door from the room to the right, which is her ‘parlor', as she calls it. Given the house isn't that large, she couldn't have been more than twenty feet from where I'm standing, so the waiting game was a power play on her part. Unless she was naked in there, which is not something I want to imagine.

"Hi, Mrs. Wilson, wanted to give you an update for week one." I keep my tone matter-of-fact, not tinted by any bad blood from our conversation earlier this week despite my personal feelings about the situation and her motives. "We've got the hole dug and confirmed, and the electrical and water for the pump and filter area are set up." I pause, giving her the tiniest moment to ask any questions. When none are immediately forthcoming, I continue, "Monday, we'll start the framing and have concrete come after that, barring any issues."

There shouldn't be any issues. At least on my end. I'm a pro, having done this hundreds of times at this point. Even that speech is one I've delivered to countless clients—recap and set expectations. All nothing more than little check marks on my mental list.

"What issues?" she snaps, looking past me like there'll be a neon arrow pointing at some imaginary problem in her back yard.

I want to tell her, ‘Sorry, we haven't discovered ancient burial grounds or underground oil lines in your yard', but somehow, I don't think she'd get the sarcasm.

" Barring any issues ," I repeat, adding emphasis. "I can't control the weather or my subcontractors, so I like to allow for some wiggle room. It's built into the original timeline that we discussed."

"Fine," she finally agrees in a huff. "I'll see you Monday, and we'd better have the concrete work completely done next week."

I almost want to laugh. Clearly, she's trying to assert some dominance here and make sure I know she's in charge. Which she's utterly and completely… not. It might be her house, but it's my jobsite while this pool project is happening. Besides, even if my guys work their asses off, concrete doesn't dry that fast. The laws of chemistry don't change.

But that's not an argument worth having today, so I remind her again, "We've taped off the area with caution lines, but everyone needs to stay clear of the entire yard. The disturbance of the ground is significant, and until it's supported, it can shift without notice. Wouldn't want anyone to fall into a big, filthy hole and not be discovered until Monday morning."

There's a thread of threat to my voice, which leads Kathy to grab at invisible pearls around her neck in shock. Am I being dramatic? Yes. Do I give a shit if Kathy falls into the hole in her yard and chokes to death on mouthfuls of fresh dirt? Unfortunately, yes. But only because it'd be an insurance nightmare for me. Mostly, I want to keep her out of the area so she doesn't fuck anything up.

"Well, I certainly won't be out there. Not until I can sip a mai tai on my back patio," she answers with a haughty flip of her hair, which moves as one solid hairsprayed chunk of artificially blonde bob. That hair alone might be responsible for a hole in the ozone layer.

"Good, then my guys will be here next week."

I walk around the corner of the house and out of Kathy's back yard. Wayne's sitting in his truck and at first, I think he kindly waited to make sure my end-of-week report with Kathy went well. Though I'm not sure if he thought I was going to need help hiding her body or if she'd be the one to murder me for insubordination. I'd like to say odds are better on my coming out alive, but Kathy's outlived one man already so she might be tougher than I think.

But instead, he points at my truck. I follow his line of vision and see that my truck is on the curb, right where I left it, but in front of it sits a car. It's one I know. The little sedan belongs to Dani's friend, Nessa. I've put a name to a face and even introduced myself after she stared at me once a little too long to be polite.

She comes by every morning, or at least that's what she told me earlier this week when we officially met, though I'm not sure you can call it that when she also called me ‘sugarbear' and asked how much I could lift with a naughty glint in her eye.

Maybe she's making a late delivery to Dani?

I get closer, pursing my lips when I realize her little beater is backed up within an inch of my front bumper. I glance behind my truck and see that I'm only an inch away from the hitch on the work trailer. That shouldn't be a big deal—I could connect to the trailer, back the whole thing up, and then take the trailer with me for the weekend. Except, behind the trailer are two pallets of tiles that are covered with tarps and locked down tight. I'm completely blocked in.

I sigh as I meet Wayne's eyes and he lifts his hands up like he has no idea what's going on. But I do. I know exactly what's happening. I've annoyed Dani, irritated her by interrupting her work flow, so she's doing the same thing to me. Tit for tat.

I hold up a finger, telling Wayne to hold on a second, and approach Dani's front door. I pull my wallet out, grabbing a fifty for her again, because annoying parking aside, I'm not going to break my promise to cover Joshua and his crew's payments. Even if she says she doesn't want it, I made a promise. And I always keep my promises.

I knock, and Dani answers quickly, looking pleased with herself. I can see Nessa behind her in the small house's living room, watching closely with a grin of her own.

"What?" Her brows are arched high like she's expecting me to say something stupid and give her a target to hit.

"Hey, Dani, I've got your money from today," I offer, holding up the bill. "Fifty, just like yesterday."

That gets Nessa's attention, and her smile falls, to be quickly replaced with suspicion as she narrows her eyes. "Money for what?" she demands.

I guess Dani hasn't explained that part. "Ssh, I'll tell you later," she snaps at Nessa, waving a hand at her to leave it alone. But she's grinning, and I realize something important… Dani Becerra is drunk, or at least tipsy. Friday festivities, indeed. Whatever alcohol she's imbibed has given her dark eyes a bright light, flushed her cheeks, and made her smile easy and quick. Even for me. Her guard's down, and while I'd never take advantage, it's a pretty look on her. Especially as opposed to the frowning, glaring, hate-filled looks I usually get from her.

"Also," I add, glancing into the living room with a smile of my own, "Nessa's car is blocking me in. Nessa, could you please move it for a few minutes so I can get out?"

Nessa giggles and shakes her head. "Sorry, Sugarbear. We're both druuuuunk and can't drive. It wouldn't be safe, right, or legal."

She's not that drunk, I can see that much. But I'm not going to argue that with anyone.

"Oh. Well, could I have your keys for a minute?" I ask Nessa, hoping she's on my side. But that's wishful thinking because Dani has obviously planned this whole thing out.

"Nope, you're not on my insurance," Nessa replies, fake slurring ‘insurance' in the process. She might be a good friend, but she's a horrible actress.

With a smile, Dani adds, "Yeah, guess you'll have to walk home. No truck for you!"

Dani sounds a little too gleeful at inconveniencing me, but I can't blame her. Especially if what the guys said earlier is true. With my truck where it is, she's making double the trips to complete her day and busting her ass extra-hard. It's not my fault exactly, but I'm probably easier to blame than Kathy.

"I see. What if I just… I dunno, pulled through your yard?"

"You wouldn't!"

Actually, I wouldn't, but I won't say that. "Or I could put Nessa's car in neutral and push it forward a bit."

"You are not pulling up to my bumper!" Nessa protests before clapping her hand over her mouth and dissolving into giggles.

"Come on, help me out here." They're not going to. I can see that, clear as day. This is exactly what Dani planned.

"Take it as a warning," Dani says. "Find somewhere else to park."

"I'm trying." Which is the absolute truth. After talking to Kathy, I looked up where the closest public parking area is. It's three blocks away, which won't work for me going back and forth.

Dani shrugs. "Not good enough, not hard enough."

"I bet he'd be good and hard," Nessa quips, eyeing me up and down hungrily, which makes Dani blush.

I smirk, not denying it. Still, I'm getting nowhere, so I give in. This time. "Fine."

Dani sticks out her chin, equally stubborn. "Fine."

Growling angrily, I turn and head over to Wayne's truck, thankful he stayed. "Got room for one more?"

"Zeus, get your skinny ass in the back," Wayne says immediately. "Boss is riding shotgun."

I accept the gesture gratefully, glad Wayne doesn't mind giving me a ride home too. I climb in and buckle up, slamming the door behind me. As we pull away, I see that Dani's in her front yard, a big smile on her face that says she won this round, and rather than waving goodbye, she flips me off again.

She looks steady on her feet and sure of herself. As I suspected, she might be tipsy, but she's not that drunk.

Which just pisses me off. At this point, I might not take Dani up on her implied offer even if she were actually making it. Dani is as big a pain in my ass as Kathy is.

"Hey, Boss, how about some Taylor Swift?" Frogger asks, and I groan.

I can't wait for this job to be fucking over.