I Cross My Heart. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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“Except?”
“I worry about selling it as is. If the media somehow finds out my dad lived like this…But hiring somebody to fix it up is risky, too. Word could still get out.”
“So hire me.”
“You? You have a job.”
“True, but it’s only sunup to sundown. My nights are my own. My dad was a general contractor and I worked with him every summer during high school and college. And I could use the money.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “You can’t work on repairs in the dark.”
“Inside stuff I can, and for outside stuff, I can set up spotlights. It’s completely doable.”
“Will the folks at the Last Chance object to having you moonlight, literally?”
He shrugged. “Not if I tell them that we’re old schoolmates and you’re helping me financially by hiring me during my off-hours. They all know I’m saving up for my own place, and this will make perfect sense to them.”
She considered his offer. Although she didn’t really know him, all her instincts told her he was trustworthy. Besides, he worked for the Chances, who were known for their integrity. That was a recommendation in itself, and he’d certainly be a better bet than taking potluck with some stranger.
“There’s a lot to be done here.” She looked around. “It’s been neglected for several years. Are you sure you can manage by yourself?”
He nodded. “One thing I’m good at is working hard and fast. That didn’t mean much to Lindsay and her parents, but it’s my strength.”
“I’d want you to start with the outbuildings to give me a chance to clear out any personal things from the house.”
“That’s fine. How long are you here for?”
“A week. That should be enough time for me to sort through the stuff in the house. And I’ll be available if you have questions as you get started.”
“So it’s a deal?”
“It’s a deal. I’ll pay you well for this, Nash.”
He smiled. “I’m counting on it. So let’s see. Are your dad’s tools still here?”
“Oh, I’m sure they are. I can’t guarantee the condition of anything, but you’ll need to pick up some building materials, so you can replace any broken tools then.” Discussing the restoration of this place gave her a boost of energy.
“Okay, good. I figure tonight I’ll come over and mostly assess the situation and come up with an estimate. Maybe I’ll start on whatever doesn’t require new lumber and nails. I’ll give you a list you can call in to the Shoshone Feed Store. They carry building supplies, too. I’ll pick everything up.”
“Or I could.” She pointed to the SUV. “That can haul stuff.”
“Nah, don’t get that shiny rental all dirty. A truck’s better, anyway.” He glanced at the chair. “And please leave this right here. I’ll deal with it tonight.”
“You’re sure?”
“Part of the job. But if you want to buy some pots of flowers for the porch, that might be a nice touch.”
She felt a tug of nostalgia. “My mother always had flower pots there.”
“Think curb appeal.”
“I will.” But instead she was thinking about her mother, and the good times they’d had planting bright annuals every spring—mostly pansies and petunias. She’d forgotten that. And after the flowers had started blooming, she and her mom would sit on the porch with glasses of lemonade and admire their efforts.
She swallowed a lump of sorrow and sniffed away her tears. She grieved her dad, though she’d emotionally distanced herself from him years ago. Her mom’s death still tugged at her heartstrings. But she’d rather not let that show and appear even more vulnerable. A girl had to preserve her pride.
“So if you’ll get the spotlights today, I’ll be here after dinner,” Nash said.
“It’s a deal.” For the first time since she’d received the news of her father’s death last week, she felt hopeful that she would be able to handle this painful inheritance.
“And don’t touch that recliner.”
Looking at it, she reached deep and found the humor buried in the situation. She grinned at Nash. “I promise not to touch it. I think I’ve created enough recliner chaos. But hey, it brought you over here.”
“And against all odds, that turns out to be a good thing.”
“Yes.” She met his gaze. “Yes, it does.” To her great surprise, she felt a sexual tug as she looked into his blue eyes. Whoops. Better not go there. Earlier she’d considered flirting with him to prove to herself that she’d outgrown her gawky phase, but that would have been ill-advised, too.
Coming back here and facing her dad’s death, and actually, her mom’s as well, had stirred up some deep feelings. What seemed like sexual desire might be simply a need to be held by a big, strong cowboy. She’d had that fantasy as a teenager but thought she’d outgrown it after leaving Jackson Hole.
Judging from her reaction to Nash, she still harbored that fantasy. If he was going to be around every night for the next week, she might want to dial back that flare of desire she was feeling. She didn’t need to complicate her life.
“See you tonight, Bethany.” He touched the brim of his hat in a typical cowboy gesture and walked back to his truck, carrying the fire extinguisher.
God help her, she watched him leave. He had the denim-encased buns and the loose-hipped stride that turned the simple act of walking into an art form. He’d been a good-looking kid in high school who’d grown into a gorgeous man.
Her reaction might also have to do with her recent period of unintended celibacy. When Living with Grace hit the number one spot on several charts, she’d been swept up in a whirlwind of publicity. The media attention, plus her deadline for the next book, had caused her to abandon everything not related to her blossoming career. She hadn’t been seriously involved with a man at the time, so her sex life had been easy to set aside, too.
She hadn’t missed it at all, or so she’d thought until she watched Nash Bledsoe return to his truck. Apparently all the man had to do to get her thinking about bedroom games was give her a view of his jeans-clad backside. Inappropriate scenarios flashed before her eyes in living color.
“Nash?” His name was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
He turned. “Yeah?”
“I, uh, bought some groceries before driving over here. If you’d like to have a quick dinner before you start working, I could provide that.”
“Sure.” His teeth were very white against his tanned skin. “That would be great. What time?”
“Around six?”
“I’ll be here.”
“See you then.” She forced herself to turn and start back to the house instead of standing there like an idiot while he drove away. As she walked over the uneven ground, she admitted to herself that inviting him to dinner sent the exact wrong message. Their arrangement was about business, not social interaction.
She might be longing for some combination of emotional comfort and sexual excitement, but finding those things in Nash Bledsoe’s arms would be a huge mistake. She didn’t believe in temporary affairs, and she had the career move of a lifetime waiting for her in Atlanta on Opal!, the most popular talk show on television, starring fan favorite Opal Knightly.
Bethany had been an occasional guest, and a friendship had formed. Now she was about to become a permanent