For her.
Not me.
And besides, I reminded myself, I was juggling several other projects across the country, which meant that I'd be doing my share of travel – without Arden Weathers.
Good thing, too.
Every time she opened that sweet mouth of hers, something sharp came out to sour my mood – like that thing about tossing her off the roof.
She might not know it, but I ran the safest job sites of anyone I knew. And yeah, maybe Chase or Mason might want to send her flying, but they wouldn't act on it, not while I was around.
And why?
It was because I didn't need the hassle. Or the mess.
And shit, like I'd let a rookie anywhere near the roof.
The way I saw it, Arden had one job – to look pretty for the cameras so Landon Tarrington got his money's worth.
But when the camerasweren'trolling, she could sit at the crew house and mind her own damn business.
It was a nice thought. But Arden, as usual, had ideas of her own.
Chapter 21
Arden
I woke long before dawn, wondering if I'd slept at all. Today would be my first day as a consultant, and I was stupidly nervous.
In spite of Brody's claim that he and Waverly would be staying at the crew house, I'd spent last night alone, with no sign of either one of them.
This should've been a good thing. And it was. But waiting for them to show up at any moment had done a real number on my nerves.
Even now, hours later, the pizza I'd had delivered for last night's dinner wasn't sitting so great. But I wasn't going to letthatstop me, so I scrambled out of bed, showered, and dressed in clothes that were decidedly not sexy.
Soon, I was officially ready – and with nearly two hours to spare.
Now what?
With sudden inspiration, I decided to take a detailed walk through the house – meaning the one we were fixing up – and gather my thoughts before Brody's arrival.
If I used the time wisely, I figured, I could be smartandprepared. And just maybe, I wouldn't make a giant fool of myself while the cameras were rolling.
There was only one problem. When I walked out the front door of the crew house, I spotted a familiar black pickup in the driveway across the street.
It was Brody's.
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. He'd told me that we started at eight, but it was barely six-thirty.
Crap.
But hey, if we were going to be working together, I couldn't avoid him forever, so I threw back my shoulders and marched across the street, anyway.
When I found the front door unlocked, I walked inside and called out, "Hello?"
No response.
But Ididhear activity upstairs – the sounds of footsteps and a few thuds, like someone was moving supplies or equipment.
