Totally Inevitable Intent

by Michele Lenard

  “I’m not going to send you into the fire without a way to put it out,” I tell him. “I’ll stop in every morning to see what your plan is for the day, and if you do run into a problem you need help with, just call me. My project site isn’t that far so I can go back and forth between the two as often as you need me to. But I think you can do this.”

  “What does the client say? I can’t imagine having me manage my friends on a job site would go over too well.”

  “She was skeptical at first,” I concede. “But it’s late to schedule a summer project, and I told her I’d rather use a crew I’d brought up in the business than hire the job out to an unknown.”

  Wes nods, considering. “Does she know I’m your son?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she was okay with that?” He gawks.

  “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “Lots of people set their kids up with work.” He shrugs. “But that doesn’t mean they deserve the job. She could think you’re playing favorites or something.”

  Man, I got lucky with this kid. Smart and wise at the same time. His mom would be so proud. “She could,” I agree. “But I don’t think she does.”

  “Why not? What’d you tell her?”

  “Same thing I told you. You’ve been working with me for years, I trust you more than any freelance crew I could round up last minute, and I’ll be available to help out if you need it.”

  “If you’re so confident in me, you could just put me on Colt’s job.” Wes smirks.

  “You’d have to be following in my footsteps to grab a spot on that crew,” I taunt. I don’t care what Wes decides to do with his life so long as he’s happy, but a dad’s still gotta mess with his kid now and then about carrying on the family legacy.

  Wes rolls his eyes. “I get to meet him, though, right?”

  “We’ll see.” I smile.

  “So, tell me more about this project? It won’t interfere with football practice, right?” He finishes up his mac and cheese and put the bowl on my desk, taking a seat in the chair next to it.

  “It shouldn’t,” I say. “It’s small, two beds, one-and-a-half baths. The kitchen and baths need the most work, and I’m going to change the layout a bit, but ideally we won’t have to gut everything.”

  “Changing the layout, do you have to move pipes? Electrical?”

  “In the bathroom, yes, but not in the kitchen if I can avoid it. If the wall I want to take out is load bearing, that might dictate how much I can alter the layout.”

  “This project has a tight budget then?” Wes exhales. I know where he’s going with this.

  “It’s not so tight that we can’t replace what needs to be replaced, including cabinets and floors and stuff,” I assure him, because there’s nothing worse than a rebuild that isn’t much of an improvement over the original due to budget constraints. “But the owner doesn’t want to throw money away, either.”

  “You said she, right?” Wes asks.

  “Yeah, Jen.”

  “What’s so special about this Jen?” Wes studies me.

  “Nothing.” I try to keep my expression neutral. These are the times I resent having a wise kid.

  “But this is a small, last-minute project that has a somewhat limited budget. You never take those anymore.”

  “I needed a summer project for you and the guys. It’s the right size, and it fits your schedule.” I shrug, deliberately leaving out that this is her first flip or he’ll never stop with the questions.

  “Hmmm.” Wes grunts.

  “What?” I grunt back.

  “Nothing.” He shrugs, although he certainly isn’t staring at me like it’s nothing. “So, when do we start?”

  “In about six weeks. I’m working on the plans now. We might do demo before you’re able to get on site, but I’m thinking that will wrap up right about when school’s out.”

  “Aw, Pop, demo’s the fun part. Can’t we wait to do that?”

  “Not if you want to be done before practice starts.”

  “Ugh, fine,” Wes says. “So how long to finish this one?”

  “Barring any unexpected surprises, four weeks. Maybe five.”

  “So, six then?” Wes asks, because he knows as well as I do there are almost always surprises.

  “Hopefully not.”

  “Do I still get to go to California with Ryan’s family in June?”

  Shit. I forgot about that trip. I’m generally good about getting us a vacation each summer, but business has been ramping up lately, no doubt thanks to Chris and Charlie, who like to refer me whenever possible, and I haven’t left time for one this year. Plus, I had hoped to do a big one next summer, before Wes heads off to college. But I can’t deny him the chance for some fun this summer just because I’ve gotten busier.

  “Yeah, we’ll work something out. Maybe I’ll just plan to be at the flip more than usual that week or something.”

  “Great!” Wes smiles. “I’ll go call the guys.”

  He grabs his empty dish and makes his way out of the office, leaving me to wonder how I’ll manage to be two places at once while he’s gone and whether I’ll be able to resist the temptation I’m trying so hard to avoid at one of them.

  Chapter 5

  Jen

  I scour my closet looking for the perfect outfit. I’m being ridiculous, seeing as how this is just a lunch meeting to go over the architectural drawings for the house, but I want to look my best. Not night-out-on-the-town best, but best as in casual and capable yet still feminine. After all, just because I plan to do work on the house doesn’t mean I have to look the part. When it comes to Anthony, I enjoy looking like a woman. I think he does too, if his eyes are any indication.

  Those eyes, they captivate me like no other feature I’ve ever seen on a man. But during the walk-through, I noticed those eyes aren’t really as mysterious as I had first thought. They’re actually sort of numb. Not cold or unfriendly or anything, just seeing without really seeing, and I have a strong suspicion that’s the reason he has a son but evidently isn’t married, because every once in a while, those numb eyes show real warmth, interest even, and I don’t get the sense Anthony is the kind of person who would look at another woman like that if he wasn’t available.

  Yeah, I noticed that brief flare of heat when I was walking around the kitchen, and I looked at him over my shoulder. I also noticed genuine pride when he talked about his son, and for the briefest of moments, I swear I saw respect, maybe even a little desire, when he said he trusted me. But it was gone almost as quickly as it had come, replaced with the polite yet distant stare that comprises his standard mask.

  I can’t imagine what happened in his life to send him behind that mask, and while part of me hopes he’ll one day be comfortable enough to tell me, the other part of me knows I’m playing with fire for even thinking about getting to know him better. He’s clearly a guy who values his privacy, and I get that, because I’m the same way. But when he said he trusted me, in that moment I felt like I could trust him, too, and that’s rare for me. I can’t just ignore that feeling. And even though I have every intention of avoiding relationships, my heart isn’t so damaged that I’ll ignore it when I feel a connection to someone.

  So now, here I am, agonizing over what to wear, because in addition to the spark I feel when I push his buttons, I feel like maybe we found some common ground to work with. A connection that goes beyond client and contractor. After all, how often in life does a person look you in the eye and tell you they believe in you? Not many, in my experience, so when it happens at all, I can’t help but take notice.

  I grab a casual sweater and a pair of ankle boots that give me an extra two inches, which will help me see into Anthony’s eyes. At five foot five, I’m not exactly short, but he has to be at least six feet, and I like the idea of being closer to his eyes, as if being closer might help me see what’s behind them. I check myself in the mirror one last time, decide against pulling my hair back since today is a good hair day, and
jump in the car.

  I pull into the deli about ten minutes before we’re due to meet. I have to admit, I’m curious about why we’re meeting at a deli when I’m sure Anthony has a perfectly suitable office space that might be more conducive to looking at plans, but maybe it’s closed on the weekends or he needs a change of scenery. Besides, if Anthony wants to do this over lunch, who am I to complain? A free meal with a hot guy—it’s the closest I’ve been to a date in years, and even if it isn’t actually a date-date, there’s no reason I can’t enjoy the illusion. I’m sure to enjoy the scenery.

  Lord, I’m starting to sound like a desperate housewife, minus the wife part, of course. The desperate label fits, though. Strange how I’ve never considered myself desperate before. Is that because Anthony’s making me feel things I haven’t felt in years, or because I’m getting older? Oh no, does that make me a cougar? How old is Anthony, anyway? He has to be about my age or older if he has a teenage son, right? Please, please let him be older. Desperate is bad enough. Cougar is a label I don’t want to flirt with.

  I find Anthony seated at a table near the back of the restaurant and admire him from a distance. Button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, showing off lean, muscled forearms. Black hair and black eyes a striking contrast to his lightly tanned skin. Angular jaw with a trace of stubble, which he’s currently stroking as he looks over the menu. I shake my head to clear it and stride casually over to the table.

  “Hi.” I smile, depositing my purse in the booth before sliding in.

  “Hi,” he replies. His eyes drift down my body and back to my face, though not with desire. More like curiosity. Damn, I wish I knew what he’s thinking. I plunk my binder down on the table.

  “What is that?” His eyes get wide.

  “My idea binder.”

  “A what?”

  “All my ideas for the house.” I shrug.

  “You plan to put all those ideas in one house?” His look changes from curious to wary.

  “Of course not. But I don’t know which of these ideas will work in my house, so I just put them in one place to make it easier to look at.”

  He eyes the binder, tugs on a magazine clipping sticking out from one of the pages. “You can’t pick finishes from a magazine. You have to get samples and put them in the space and see what works.”

  “Duh,” I retort. “These are ideas to help me narrow down what to look for at the store. They’ll make shopping more efficient.”

  Anthony strokes his jaw. “And what if the things in that binder aren’t right for your house? Where’s the efficiency in that?”

  “If they don’t work in this house, maybe they’ll work in the next one.” I smile coyly. It’s fun to ruffle his serious feathers.

  “You think there will be a next one?” He raises his eyebrows.

  “Maybe. It depends if I like your work on this one.” I swear his eye twitches at that. Oh god, tormenting him is such fun. “Thanks for the invite. I’m looking forward to adult food.” I smile.

  “Adult food?” He squints.

  “You know, the stuff they serve here.”

  He exhales slowly, his jaw set in a firm line. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “I’m a teacher.” I laugh. “Lunch in the cafeteria is usually pizza or chicken nuggets. I’m looking forward to a meal with neither.”

  After a few minutes studying the menu, we place our orders, and Anthony pulls out his laptop to show me ideas for the kitchen layout.

  “We still don’t know if that wall in the kitchen is load bearing,” he says, “so I’ve got two different layouts.” He points to the two drawings on the screen. “Even if that wall is load bearing, we can still take it out and run a steel beam across the ceiling to meet code, but that would probably run seven thousand. You’ll need to decide if that’s within your budget.”

  “Would the beam be hidden in the ceiling?”

  “It could be, or we could frame it to match the wood beams that are already there, so it looks like an architectural feature.”

  “I like that idea. But can we go over the bathrooms first? If I know what I have to spend there, I’ll be able to decide what I’m comfortable spending in the kitchen.”

  “Fair enough.” Anthony nods. He walks me through the two baths and what those will cost to complete, as well as what it will take to refinish the floors and do a bit of landscaping. When it’s all said and done, I’ll have about fifteen thousand left over before touching the contingency fund, but if I have to replace a beam, that would put a big dent into that figure, which would probably rule out new cabinets. I don’t mind salvaging the old ones, but I don’t yet know if they can be salvaged.

  “Do I have to decide what to do about the kitchen right now?” I ask. “I think we have to find out whether the cabinets need to be replaced before I can make a decision about whether to spend half my kitchen budget on a ceiling beam.”

  “I think that makes the most sense.” Anthony looks like he’s fighting a smile, and I get the strangest feeling he’s pleased I came to that decision.

  “So you’re good with either of these layouts?” he asks.

  “Yes. I’d obviously prefer to have the room as open as possible, but if that’s not in the budget, I won’t be disappointed with the second option. That might have more character anyway.”

  He stares at me with what I can only describe as approval, his dark eyes betraying a hint of a smile. Wow. Those eyes hide a lot, but in moments like this, when he almost lets his guard down, I feel like those eyes see me on a deeper level. I should have felt exposed under his gaze, but instead I feel safe, even though my heart is pounding inside my chest.

  Anthony clears his throat, looks away abruptly, and with his impeccable timing the waiter chooses that moment to deliver our food.

  “Do you have any other questions about the plan or the timeline?” He takes a bite of his sandwich.

  I try to shake off the intensity of what just passed between us. “How long will demo take?”

  “Normally just a day, but I won’t have a full crew working on it. Actually, it might be just me.”

  “Can you do all that by yourself?” I pop a fry into my mouth.

  “There really isn’t much, especially if we end up keeping the kitchen cabinets.”

  “When do you plan to start?”

  “As soon as you take possession. The faster we can get in there to see what we’re working with, the better I can line up the work that needs to be done.” He takes another bite.

  “Let’s plan for the day after I close. I’ll get a sub for that day.” I swirl my fry in the ranch dressing on my plate.

  “Wait.” Anthony’s eyes grow big. “Are you planning to do demo?”

  “Of course.” I pop the fry into my mouth.

  “Why?” He seems genuinely shocked.

  “Half the fun of a flip is tearing down what you don’t need, right?”

  “I guess.” He eyes me warily. “But it’s pretty dirty.”

  I lean forward and lower my voice. “Do I strike you as the type of girl who doesn’t like to get dirty?”

  That does it. He swallows audibly then busies himself stirring sugar into his iced tea. “Okay, fine. The day after you close.”

  “Perfect. I’ll get a sub. That’s probably a testing day anyway, so no one will miss me.”

  “Testing for what?” He looks lost.

  “Just the standard, end-of-the-year tests to measure what the kids learned.” I shrug.

  “Oh.” He nods, glancing at me briefly before looking back at his plate. “What grade do you teach?”

  “Second.”

  “Why second?” His eyes snap to mine.

  “The kids are old enough to understand the rules and young enough to think their teacher is magic.”

  “Magic? What do you mean?”

  “You know.” I wave a fry. “They think I have all the answers, they want my approval, stuff like that. They still have that youthful innocence, although they
’re starting to ask more intelligent questions and for the most part haven’t started to push boundaries. It’s just an agreeable, fun age.”

  “Oh.” He locks eyes with me, only for a second, but it’s long enough I recognize the look of someone feeling lost. I’ve been there before.

  I decide to change the subject. “How old is your son? The one who’s going to work on my house.”

  “I only have one, Wes. He’ll be eighteen in a few months.” Anthony balls his napkin up and sets it on his plate. “Did you have any other questions about the job?”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Good.” Anthony fishes a few bills out of his pocket and drops them on the table. “I’ll see you in a few weeks for demo,” he says. He grabs his laptop and nods curtly in my direction. “Have a good afternoon.”

  I sit there, stunned, wondering how far my jaw is hanging open as he leaves. It’s like the easy conversation we started with had never taken place, like I’d been dining with a total stranger. I replay the conversation in my mind, trying to understand what I said that made him go from friendly to merely polite. Made him skittish enough to rush out. But nothing comes to mind. It’s pretty much all small talk, about my job no less. How could that have pushed him away?

  I gather my purse and idea binder and make my way to the car, wondering if we have any connection at all or if I'm just so starved for one I invented it.

  ***

  “So what’s the story with Anthony?” I ask Lisa on the phone that night. She’s staying with Chris at his house in the foothills, but he’s grilling their dinner so she has a few minutes to talk. Thank goodness, because I need another perspective.

  “Are you interested in him?” she gushes. “I know you liked what you saw at the barbeque.”

  “I can’t deny he’s nice to look at, but I meant what’s his background?”

  “Oh, I don’t actually know. I know he’s a brilliant contractor, and he’s a single dad, although I’m not actually sure why. Oh, and Chris thinks he’ll appreciate a woman who doesn’t fall all over herself trying to get him to notice her.”