At Wild Rose Cottage. Callie Endicott
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that he was moving so fast on the job. As for taking the lead? He’d made it sound as if he did nothing except push paper. Hardly. Maybe he didn’t wield tools all day, every day, but did go out and work alongside everyone else when needed.
With any other guy, Alaina might have thought he wanted to impress the client, but Emily wasn’t Trent’s type—he went for flashy women who were okay with short-term affairs, the same as her brother Josh. Her other brother, Jackson, had been the same...until he’d met an old flame from high school and got knocked on his ass. Kayla had been good for Jackson, but Alaina didn’t expect Josh or Trent to change—lightning didn’t strike that often.
Perhaps Trent was handing the job this way simply because it was their childhood home and he wanted to be there to fix it up. Well...it would be nice to think so, but that didn’t sound like him, either.
* * *
EMILY BOUGHT GROCERIES, then couldn’t resist stopping at the hardware store to look at paint samples. She had always loved the paint department at home improvement centers...the rows and rows of swatches ranging from light to dark. You could practically get drunk on all the color. And she could pick anything she wanted. One of the hard parts of selecting stock for her boutique was restricting her choices to the “fashionable” colors for that season.
“Shopping for paint again?” asked a pleasant voice.
Turning, Emily saw the woman who’d helped her on several prior occasions. The clerk had been knowledgeable and patient...the way someone was patient with an impulsive child. Emily was used to that. Most people thought she was quirky and “New Age-ish,” though she wasn’t sure that Schuyler was in tune to New Age culture. That was fine; she disliked labels.
“Is there something I can do for you?” the clerk prompted.
Emily jumped. Cripes, she’d let her mind wander into never-never land again.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m really excited today.”
“Let me guess...you decided to paint the Emporium a different color than the one you finally selected.”
Emily made a face. Picking the right color for the interior of the gift shop had taken a while. She’d gotten the paint tinted, only to change her mind. So she’d bought more paint. But her final choice had turned out great, so it was worth it, and she’d donated her original purchase to a local church, so that had worked out equally as well.
“Nope,” she said, “but I’m starting all over again, this time for my new house.”
“Congratulations.”
Beaming, Emily turned back to the paint samples. “It’s like being at Disneyland,” she said. “All the colors and possibilities are spread out in front of me. The renovations haven’t even started, so it’s a long way from getting painted, but I thought I’d get sample strips.”
After picking out a huge selection of color samples, Emily headed home to start thumbtacking them to the walls.
“Don’t worry,” she assured the house, “better days are coming.”
* * *
ON MONDAY MORNING Emily couldn’t believe that she’d overslept when she woke up at 6:30 a.m. Of course, she’d been working at her computer until after 3:00 a.m., so that probably explained it. The Big Sky crew was arriving soon, so she bounced out of bed and dressed fast. The doorbell squawked and she ran barefoot to open the door.
Trent Hawkins stood on the porch.
“Uh, hi,” she said. “Is something wrong? Oh, don’t tell me your crew can’t start today. I mean, I know you have four extra weeks, but...well, if you can’t, you can’t. When—”
He held a hand up and Emily stopped talking. She knew she was babbling, but it had been a huge shock to see him.
“We’re still starting today and the rest of the crew will be here shortly,” Trent told her.
“The rest of the crew?” she repeated, foggy from her short night of sleep.
“I can’t do it all myself.”
“But I didn’t think you’d be working here.” Emily stopped, realizing how dismayed she’d sounded. “I mean, you own the company and must have other things to do.”
If Trent had recognized how she felt, nothing showed on his face. “This is the busy season for construction companies, so I’m taking the lead on this job. But don’t be concerned. I’m fully qualified.”
“It isn’t that.”
Emily didn’t doubt his qualifications—she just didn’t want him around. So far he’d acted rude and pushy. Of course, she shouldn’t assume rude and pushy was his true personality...he might be chauvinistic, bad-tempered and obstinate, as well. While Schuyler obviously respected Trent as a contractor, nobody seemed comfortable with him.
Still, the renovations might get done faster if he was the foreman, and his employees would be on their toes under the boss’s gaze, so it could work out for the best.
With that conclusion, she stood aside to let him come in.
“Which area do you want tackled first?” he asked.
“Um...the kitchen is hideous. I barely go in there because the floor is sagging so badly. But I don’t know if I’ll be doing much cooking anyway, not with dust and stuff flying around. So start wherever you think works best.”
He nodded briskly. “We’ll hang plastic sheeting to help contain dust, but it will still be a problem. You might want to find another place to live while the work is being completed—or at least during the initial stages while we’re tearing stuff out.”
Emily shook her head. “Not a chance. The room I’m using as a bedroom is at the back and has a bath connected, so if I keep the door closed, it shouldn’t be too bad in there. After everything else is finished, I’ll move, and leave that room and bath free for the work it needs.”
“If you say so.”
She had a strange feeling he was disappointed and she told herself not to take it personally; he was just thinking about making things easier for his crew. Anyway, it was her fish to fry if she wanted to stay.
The doorbell squawked again and soon four more men stood inside her living room.
“This is Eduardo, Vince, Mike and Cav... Chuck,” Trent told her.
“Great to meet you.”
She watched as Trent efficiently assigned tasks.
Eduardo was a silver-haired man with a jolly expression. Trent sent him to examine plumbing issues. Vince was tall and skinny, with long fingers that carefully began removing the older light fixtures she hoped to preserve. Mike looked vaguely familiar, so she might have already seen him around town. He walked with a limp, but seemed quite strong as he went through the kitchen’s swinging door to start removing the ancient painted plywood cabinets.
The last one, Chuck, had a round, solid build. Before he went to check the basement—a dismal space that had never been finished—he nodded to her and said, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Everybody calls me Caveman.”
Caveman?
Emily tried not to laugh. He looked like a caveman with his bushy hair and beard, but she suspected he’d earned the moniker for reasons that went beyond his appearance.
Trent consulted a diagram on his clipboard and began tapping on the downstairs wall that Emily wanted removed. “There’s no need for you to be here,” he told her over his shoulder. “Why don’t you go out to breakfast or head to your store?”
She hesitated. “Maybe later.”
Despite the early hour, she could always find something to keep her busy at the Emporium. Breakfast also sounded appealing and there was a café near her shop. The dust and noise