"Do me a favor," Myra said. "Pretend you're him, renting a place to live."
"But why?"
"Just do it!" she practically barked.
Yikes."Okay, fine."
"Now pretend you're having some plumber friend over for dinner, and the owner of the house shows up and demands to know why you're reworking the plumbing when you'rereallyjust sitting there, eating meatloaf." Her voice hardened. "Tell me. Are you gonna like it?"
Obviously, she didn't mean the meatloaf. "But it's not even dinner time," I protested. "And besides, it's not just a plumber. There are other trucks too."
"I don't care if it's the plumber, the baker, and the candlestick maker," Myra said. "You can't be bothering people just because they're renting your house."
"But…" I felt my eyebrows draw together. "Wait a minute. Candlestick maker? Is that still a thing?"
"I don't know, and I don't care," she said. "But if you're smart, you'll let it drop – forallour sakes." And with that, she ended the call without saying goodbye.
I didn't try to call her back. The truth was, she'd made some excellent points. But that didn't change the way I felt, especially when I sawanothervehicle pull up – a monster-sized pickup that cranked my concern to a whole new level.
Chapter 5
Bryce
From my seat at the kitchen table, I glanced toward the front window and did a double-take. The little red coffee truck – it was back.
All weekend, I'd kept an eye out, only to be disappointed.Forget the coffee.I wanted to seeher, the pretty redhead with the green eyes and smart mouth.
Now, there she was.The truck's serving window was cloudy with condensation, and my own windows were partially obstructed by basic white window blinds. But I could still see her through the gaps as she talked on her cell phone and glowered through the glass as if she wasn't too happy with whatever she was hearing.
Even so, I felt my own lips curve upward.Oh, yeah. She had attitude to spare.
A gruff male voice interrupted my thoughts. "So, what doyouthink, Mister Gallagher?"
I looked back to the plumber. "Sorry, what?"
The four of us – me plus three master tradesmen – were gathered around the kitchen table, finalizing the plans I'd begun only last week. This meeting was important, and yet I'd found myself distracted by a pretty face.
This hadn't happened in a long while, not since Natalia. But I wasn't going to think aboutthat.Instead, I focused on the plans in front of me as the plumber explained how we could save a few bucks by using PVC piping instead of copper.
I shook my head. "No cutting corners. We're gonna do this right."
The guy nodded. "I figured you'd say that."
But we couldn't do anything until after the demolition phase. I glanced at my watch. "Anyone seen Wayne?"
The plumber frowned. "LastIheard, he was gonna meet us here."
Just then, I heard the rumble of a diesel engine and glanced outside to see a big black pickup ease past the driveway as if preparing to park a few doors down.
Deliberately, I turned my chair away from the window and returned my attention to the plans. "While we're waiting, let's go over the electric."
The sooner we finished, the sooner I could head outside.
I wanted to see the redhead –andto hear her voice. I liked the way she looked and the way she sounded, especially when she was riled up.
Last Friday, I'd called her pretty. I hadn't meant to, but the word had slipped out on its own while I'd been distracted by her vivid green eyes. It wasn't just their color. It was the look in them as she'd gone from angry to flustered and back again.
This was a girl who didn't hold back.Naturally, it made a guy wonder what she would be like when shewasn'tcranked about something or other.
