Yuletide Hearts. Ruth Herne Logan
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it’s in good hands now,” Matt told him, ready to cut this conversation short. “Mine and Hank’s.” He wasn’t sure why he included the older man in the statement, but realized its truth right off. Despite hard times, Hank Marek was unafraid to put his hand to the task, a guy like Grandpa, tried and true. That kind of integrity meant a great deal to Matt.
“Nice outfit, Callie.”
Matt turned in time to see the wince she hid from McGee as Callie came down the ladder.
McGee’s words pained her, but why would a pretty girl like Callie Marek be hurt by a little teasing? Two thoughts came to mind. Either Callie’d been hurt before or McGee’s words came with a personal tang.
“She’s working for you?”
Matt turned, not liking the heightened interest in McGee’s tone but not willing to make an enemy out of the building inspector who would be signing his certificate of occupancy documents. “Yes, they’re a talented family.”
McGee acknowledged that with a nod as he headed out. “They are. I’ll stop around now and again, see how things are coming along.”
Translation: I’ll stop around now and again to see Callie and maybe find you cutting code.
The latter insinuation didn’t bother Matt. He refused to shirk and never used slip-shod methods in building. That had kept his reputation and business growing heartily in the northern part of the county. Now back home in the southern edge of Allegany County, where teenage bad choices dogged him, he’d be choirboy good to erase those dark stains on his character.
But realizing McGee would be stopping by to check Callie out?
That scorched.
And while Matt knew Callie was off limits, the way his neck hairs rose in protest when Finch McGee eyed her said his heart was playing games with his head. The way she’d faced the decision of crewing with him, upfront and honest, the way her hair touched her cheek, the brown waves having just the right sheen, like newly applied satin-finish paint…
Words weren’t his forte, but feelings…those he got, and since he was fresh out of a relationship with a woman who’d wanted to change every single thing about him, he wasn’t ready to charge head-first into another one, especially in a place where everyone knew his name and all the baggage that went along with it. With an employee. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen for a host of good reasons.
“If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting, too…”
Kipling’s famous poem soothed the angst McGee stirred up, the poem a gift from Grandpa back in the day. Matt had to trust himself. He couldn’t afford mistakes or missteps. He’d already made his share.
“Matt, you wanna cut those sections we removed or have me do it?”
Matt turned, grateful for Buck’s interruption. “Have at it, Buck.”
Buck nodded and swung down the ladder. “Be right back.”
Matt climbed back up, inspecting each seam before they added the underlayment and the shingles. A mistake now would cost time and money later, every builder’s nightmare.
Do it once, do it right.
By the time Matt glanced at his watch again, it was nearly one o’clock. “Hey, guys, lunch.”
Hank waved a sandwich from the roof across the street. “Got mine right here, boss.”
Tom did the same thing.
Buck straightened and rolled his shoulders to ease muscle strain. “I’ll bring mine up so we can keep going here. You want something, Matt?”
Their dedication touched Matt’s heart. He’d worked with a lot of crews over the years, good and bad, and from both ends of the spectrum as low man on the totem pole and supervisor, but this…
He cleared his throat and nodded to Buck. “I’ve got a sandwich inside the truck. And some of those snowball cupcakes.”
“I love them,” Buck declared.
“Bring the box, we’ll share. And see if the other guys want some.”
“Hank won’t. Coconut bothers him since he got the Crohn’s, but Tom will dig in. So will Callie. She loves chocolate. Thanks, Matt.”
“You’re welcome.”
Callie headed across the roof just then, a soldier’s satisfaction marking her gaze, her walk.
A really good-looking soldier.
With great hair and pearl-soft skin.
Stop. Now.
He couldn’t afford to mess up this job. He’d seen the careful way Hank handled his daughter, although this woman didn’t seem to need protecting.
The image of her quick wince revisited him, the way she’d cringed at McGee’s teasing, and that brought back another Grandpa Gus-ism. “If you respect women, you’ll respect life.”
Maybe Callie Marek did need protecting and was good at hiding it, but either way, she was off limits. Her warm voice reenforced that notion a short while later. “Jake’s home.”
A yellow bus rolled toward them, lights flashing. Jake climbed down the steps, let the dog off the porch, then hurried their way with The General racing alongside. “You guys got a lot done today!”
Matt grinned as the pair drew closer, their enthusiasm contagious. “We did, but it’s easy with a great crew.”
“I can help.” The boy’s excitement made it tough for Matt to say no, but—
“We’d love your help,” Callie told him, staving Matt’s refusal with a sidelong glance. “First, get changed. Put on proper gear including your boots and hard hat, then head over here. There won’t be much time, but you can work on cleanup.”
“Okay.”
The kid dashed across the open lot at a run, the dog streaming alongside, his pace pretty solid for an eight-year-old. Matt turned Callie’s way, disapproving. “I—”
She held up a hand to thwart his argument. “I know what you’re going to say, but trust me on this. Jake understands construction sites. He’s been working side-by-side with us for years with no harm, no foul. He’s great on cleanup duty and this is a much better choice than television or computer games, right?”
“Yes, but…” Matt met her gaze, decided that was dangerous because her eyes made him remember how lovely she was, even in roofing gear, and he didn’t want to go there. No woman in her right mind would find his teenage police record a good thing to have around an impressionable kid like Jake. A good kid, Matt reminded himself. “Doesn’t he have homework?”
“Yes.” Callie nodded, chin down, focusing on her work, talking easily. “But he’s got some processing problems so school doesn’t come easily. We’ll do it together, step by step, after supper.”
That’s what they’d been doing last night, Matt realized. “After working here all day, you’ll do homework duty at night?”
She gave a brisk nod. “Of course.”
He’d have given anything to have a mother like that. He’d tackled educational difficulties on his own and failed miserably. “That’s amazing, Callie.”
She turned, surprised. Their eyes met.
She went still, her eyes on his, her mouth slightly open, the parted lips looking very approachable.
And she read his gaze, his thoughts. It was there in her slight intake of breath, the way she blinked, the quick flex of fingers as realization struck.
Amanda Slaughter created a welcome diversion by pulling into the tract with promised coffee.