Page 4 of His Build
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you could have. You did.” And he meant it. By the fire in her eyes, he could tell she’d unleashed worse on plenty of Brady Smyths.
His apology seemed to surprise her. She cleared her throat, tucking her waves behind her ears. “Well, thank you anyway, for stepping in.”
He stared at her a second too long, and for a moment, it was as if each of them was daring the other to look away first. Finally, she looked down at her window frame. His fingers were curled around it. He pulled his hands away, embarrassment slipping neatly into place.
“Are you passing through or—” he began. But she had her finger on the window button and it began to rise.
“Thanks again,” the woman said before the glass sealed shut between them.
Graydon couldn’t do anything but nod and watch as she drove away.
2
Lucy Fulham’s cheeks didn’t stop burning all the way to the motel. In fact, they seemed to keep getting hotter. She was pissed at that twerp in the giant truck. But even more pissed at the other one. The big, scruffy… big one. Shecouldhave handled that embarrassing little incident just fine on her own.
And holy hell, was it embarrassing. She couldn’t recall any time in her life, ever, where she had done something so completely mortifying.
Rear-ending someone because she wasoglinga man!
But it wasn’t just any man.No matter how many times she replayed the incident—slamming into that giant pickup withballshanging from its bumper, ugh—she couldn’t shake the image of what made her so distracted the first place. That man standing in the back of that truck, lifting his overly worn t-shirt up to wipe the sweat from his brow. She cranked the A/c and blared the car’s radio, but it didn’t do anything. His whole bare front was seared into her retinas.
Then when he’d leaned into her window? The scruff of his stubble going down his neck and that scar running the length of his jaw… Lucy wondered what it would be like to run her thumb along it, to feel the bristle of hair and the soft line of scar tissue underneath…
“Arrrrghh!” She growled out loud, gripping the steering wheel as if she could squeeze the images from her brain.
Getting lost in thirst traps was not what she had come to this little town for. She had come to do a job, earn a paycheck, and get out.
And lord knows she needed a paycheck.
Her life coaching business, Full Heart Coaching, was doing great, with enough clients that she should be doing fine financially. But the brand new one-bedroom condo she’d bought earlier this year—a core component of her own Big Life Plan, which she always made her clients map out—came with a blisteringly expensive mortgage. And the ‘personal fulfilment’ part of that plan she insisted her clients budget for—theatre and museum tickets, lattes and dinners for one—came with a cost too.
Most of her clients knew that before becoming a life coach, Lucy had worked in a high-end decorating firm, until she discovered she preferred talking clients through life dilemmas over design ones. She used her personal story to demonstrate that the path to happiness wasn’t often a straight line. So when a beloved client Alfred Jones came to her out of the blue earlier this week asking her to step in as interior designer of his new lake house, she’d been curious, but not serious.
“I don’t do that anymore, Alfred,” she’d told him. She’d taken the call in the middle of a lunch meeting—not something she ever normally did, but her lunch mate, a potential new client who reeked of old family money and slimy self importance, was screaming into the phone at some minion of his, and had been for the past ten minutes.
“Lucy, I’m desperate,” Alfred had said. “This so-called top-notch designer abandoned the project without having so much as dropped by the site, and we’re only six weeks out from completion!”
“Did they say why?”
“Some harebrained excuse about their schedule—I think they decided they didn’t want to make the trip up to Jewel Lakes every week.”
Lucy loved Alfred. He was tough on the outside, but she knew from his coaching sessions how kind he actually was. But he was asking her to do a job she hadn’t done in years.
Still, for the briefest moment, Lucy had let herself daydream about what it would be like to take it. It would be a nice break from the frantic pace of the city. Plus, she still followed all her favorite blogs and social media accounts from when she was in the business. And knowing Alfred, her budget would be wide open.
But she’d shaken the daydream off. She was far too involved with her life as it was now. “I’m sure I could provide you with some names.”
“I don’t want names,” Alfred had barked. “I want you! The project will grind to a halt while we wait for someone new. Please, Lucy. My contractor is top notch, a real down-to-earth guy. You’d have to move up here to get it all done before the build wraps up of course—”
“Alfred!” Lucy was shocked. “You can’t be serious.” On top of it all, he wanted her to stay up there, too?
“I know, it’s a big ask. But that’s why I’d make it worth your while. All expenses paid plus $50,000 on completion.”
Lucy nearly spat out her water. Fifty thousand dollars? For a six week job? That kind of money would cover an entireyearof mortgage payments. Her mind began rattling through the pieces. Logistically, it could work. Her job was portable, and her little sister Sadie would kill to move into Lucy's place as a house sitter. Sadie was a bit of a drama magnet and currently dealing with not only a complete dud of a boyfriend, but a challenging roommate situation in her Uptown shoebox apartment.
As Lucy sat there actually contemplating this wild idea, her potential client leaned over and slammed his fist down on the table, eliciting gasps from nearby diners.
“Idiots!” he shouted into his phone. “I should have known they were trash by their off-the-rack suits!”
