So when Tucker took one too many smoke breaks, Leo let him. He also got the kid to agree to sit in on this Friday’s group therapy session with him. It meant a late arrival at his gram’s, but she was already aware, and Kaydee told him not to worry about the seniors and bingo. She’d cover it.
And then he’d cover her.
At that delicious thought, his lips weren’t the only thing to twitch.
“Damn, there’s Tuck,” Dirk grumbled at the sound of the bike pulling up outside. It meant he had to leave the last doughnut for the kid.
One of the other crew members cupped the big guy’s shoulder. “Better luck next time.”
Fifteen minutes later, Leo wished to God he’d had some of that luck when the countertop arrived. Blanche had wanted quartz.
The shop delivered granite.
What the hell?
Leo dialed the distributor as he strode outside, explaining the mix-up with a calm he was far from feeling.
“Hi, Mr. Reed,” the woman who identified herself as Heather said in pleasant voice. “I remember you. Let me call up the order…okay…you originally ordered quartz, but then you called later that day to change it to granite.”
What?
He stiffened and glanced around the front of Blanche’s yard as if it held the answers. “No. I came into your shop with my order,” he told her, gripping the phone as he worked to keep his irritation at bay.
“Yes, I know. I remember you,” Heather said, her voice softening. “Then you called a few hours later and changed it to granite.”
Like hell. Blanche wanted low maintenance. No sealing. Sanitary. No staining worries.
Quartz.
“I have it noted right here,” she said, as if he could see through the phone.
He jumped in his truck and cranked the engine. “I’ll be right there.”
Leo hung up without waiting for a reply. Dick move. He’d feel bad about it later. Right now, he needed answers. Doing his best to keep calm, he controlled his breathing and drove the twenty minutes to the manufacturer he’d visited ten days ago to place the damn quartz order.
They’d screwed up. Not him. He didn’t call. Why the fuck would he?
Christ. This was just great. Fucking great. Another screwup. How the hell was he going to explain this cost and delay to Stone?
Maybe Blanche had changed the order…
A long shot, but he needed to find out.
Sucking it up, he called the woman and clenched his fist to keep his anger in check when she told him it wasn’t her. She wanted quartz. He promised her he’d fix it. Then hung up.
He didn’t fucking need this.
By the time he walked into the shop his gut was knotted tight, but he didn’t show his aggravation. He was good at masking emotions, thanks to years of training and practice.
A half hour later, he left with the quartz countertop ordered, a new delivery date set for that Saturday, and a huge hit to his bank account to expedite things. No way would he allow Foxtrot to pay for his mistake.
And it was his mistake, because even though he didn’t make that damn call and couldn’t prove someone at the distributer screwed up, he was responsible for material orders.
On his way back to the jobsite, Leo stopped in at V-Spot to update Blanche. A stop he hadn’t wanted to make. A fucking stop he shouldn’t havehadto make. As expected, though, she was nothing but nice, telling him it just meant she got out of cooking for a few more days.
But it wasn’t right, and the more he thought about it, the more it aggravated him.
Pulling in front of Blanche’s house, he slammed his truck in park as self-disgust mixed with stress to grip his shoulders and twist around his spine.
