by Mara Wells
Lance lifted a shoulder. “He can learn.” Wasn’t much for Knox to do on the security end of the Dorothy upgrades until they were further along in the project anyway. Why not drag his business partner into it? The more Lance thought about it, the more it seemed the obvious way to help Carrie. He could handle the real work, and Knox would be his assistant. With enough beer, he was sure he could bribe his big brother into it. “We’ll be there bright and early tomorrow.”
Carrie squealed her delight and threw herself at him in an exuberant hug. “Thank you so much. You are saving my bacon. My business. You have no idea.”
His arms curved around her so naturally that he marveled that he’d ever been able to let her go. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
She pulled away to smile up at him. “And thanks for introducing me to Adam. It’s a great gesture on your part.”
“Uh, sure.”
Her smile faltered at his hesitation. “He’s who you meant, right? When you said you could introduce me to someone?”
In his defense, that offer came before the smoldering elevator kiss. Also, he hadn’t had anyone specific in mind. Maybe himself. But he couldn’t admit that now, so all he said was, “He’s a great guy. Talented.”
“You really are the best. What a great way to put yesterday’s slipup behind us.” She patted his back and stepped away. “Don’t you think the kiss was only the past sneaking up on us? All that excitement over a new job, working together again, it was all a bit overwhelming, right?”
Lance took a page from Mendo’s communication stylebook and nodded.
“Who knew we’d be better off as friends than spouses?” She smiled, her gaze bobbing around, looking at everything but him. “It’ll be best for Oliver if we’re friends. Just friends, I mean.” Finally, her eyes collided with his. “Don’t you agree?”
He stared at her, the memory of yesterday’s kiss blazing in his mind. Her color heightened, tinging her cheeks pink, and he knew she remembered, too. He nodded.
“Shall we?” Adam was back, elbow crooked.
Carrie took his arm, for all the world like they’d done it a million times, and walked down the hall with Adam. She didn’t look back.
She wouldn’t. She never looked back, always focused on the future, his Carrie. He should put the kiss out of his mind. He had enough going on that he didn’t need to excavate the past to find more, and he wasn’t going to spend another minute wondering what was going on in his ex-wife’s head.
Chapter 11
“Have you ever seen so many mirrors?” Mendo peered around the one-bedroom’s small bathroom with wide eyes.
Lance took in the wall-to-wall mirrors. The edge-to-edge ceiling mirror. The mirrored cabinets mounted on the mirrored walls. It was all a bit much. He smiled, thinking what Carrie would say when she saw it. Then he tried to picture her face when he told her the owners, Kent and Marco, had left strict instructions for their bathroom to be left as is.
“Why are you smiling? It’s going to be a nightmare replumbing this room without damaging all this glass.” Mendo glared into the nearest mirror like it was at fault.
Lance raised one shoulder. “Clients.”
“Clients.” Mendo nodded sagely. “Crazy, the lot of them.”
“True that.” Lance took one last look at his multiple reflections. “Put your best guy on this. I like Kent and Marco.”
Mendo crouched down and pulled open the mirrored cabinet under the sink. “At least there aren’t mirrors in here.” He rooted through some cleaning products and four types of bubble bath. “It’s gonna take a long time. Easier when we can demo first.”
“Sure is. But not this unit.” Lance didn’t know that he agreed with Caleb’s decision to let the residents have some say in the remodel. Case in point, clients didn’t always have the best taste. Most of the current residents, though, had been thrilled by the idea of a makeover and were especially happy with the plan to combine some of the studios and one-bedrooms to make two-bedroom units. “Lucky for us, less than half the building is occupied. It’s going to be a bit of a jack-in-the-box situation, what with current residents moving into the remodeled units until we finish their units, but it’ll work out if we stick to the schedule. Even more luckily, this is the only bathroom we have to restore exactly as is after the repiping.”
“I know, I know.” Mendo waved him away. “We respect the clients’ wishes even when the clients are crazy.”
“Crazy clients are our bread and butter.” Lance’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and scanned a text from the elevator company. Now that the leak in the elevator shaft was fixed, they were full steam ahead on the installation. The elevator should be operational well before the residents returned from their cruise. Thank God.
Mendo grinned at him. “I’d rather have a steak, you know what I mean?”
Lance left the bathroom laughing and texted back that he was glad to hear the elevator was back on schedule. After sending, he saw that he’d missed a call from his stepmother. Caleb’s mom, Christine. They’d never really had much to talk about, not since she’d married his dad not even two minutes after Robert had divorced Lance’s mom. He’d grown up hearing from his mom what a gold digger Christine was, but when his dad was arrested, tried, and found guilty, Christine had stayed by his side. Lance guessed that said something about her character, although he wasn’t sure what. She usually only called him about holiday-related things. Well, Thanksgiving was right around the corner.
He walked back toward Riley and Caleb’s place, sure that LouLou would be more than ready for a trip to the dog park. He stuck in his earbuds and called Christine back.
It rang a few times while he petted the predictably overexcited LouLou, loaded up his jean pockets with doggy bags, and clipped the leash on her collar. Christine picked up after he’d locked the door behind him.
“Lance!” She sounded happy that he’d called.
He gave her a cautious, perhaps even suspicious “Hello, Christine. Did you need something?”
Her breath hitched, like he’d shocked her. She’d expected more social niceties, he supposed, but he’d left that world behind on purpose. “It’s not exactly, specifically for me,” she hedged, and he knew immediately what this was about. His father.
“No.”
“But I haven’t even—”
“No, I didn’t want anything to do with him before he was in jail. I certainly am not doing him any favors now.”
“Prison.” She corrected him like the difference mattered. “Your father is in prison.”
“Tomato, to-mah-to,” he grumbled, really just because it would annoy her. She did love her brand names. He was surprised she didn’t brag about his father being in the best prison facility in the State of Florida. Too much? Probably. So why hadn’t he hung up yet?
She ignored his baiting. “Thanksgiving is so close. A time for family. It would mean so much to him if you boys came for a visit. Now, I’m not asking for anything big. A few minutes of your time to let him know you still care.”
“I don’t care.” He stood on the swale while LouLou inspected a particularly delicious-smelling coconut. “I never did.”
She clicked her tongue at him, but she wasn’t his mother, so she didn’t get to do that.
“Goodbye, Christine,” he said.
“Maybe your brothers—”
“Goodbye.” He hung up and ripped the buds out of his ears, stuffing them into his front pockets, cursing the fact that Caleb was unavailable to handle Christine. Not that Lance’s mother was much better in terms of parenting skills, but at least she’d had the sense to divorce Robert Donovan and wasn’t overly involved in his life now. They had polite get-togethers every other holiday or so, but he wasn’t one of those people who talked to his mom every day, or even every week for that matter. He’d thought he liked it that way, but now he w
ondered what kind of relationship Caleb and Christine had. And what about his oldest brother, Knox? Were he and his mother close? There were so many things he didn’t know about his own brothers.
He texted Knox. Wanna get your hands dirty? And when Knox responded with a thumbs-up, Lance invited him over to the Dorothy for a beer later. Caleb had left the refrigerator fully stocked for him, and it was time to let Knox know about his up-and-coming career as construction assistant.
By the time he and LouLou returned from their stroll around the block, with only a bit of whining on her part when he bypassed the crowded dog park gate because he needed the walk as much, if not more, than the dog, Knox was already parked on the soon-to-be-history rattan lobby couch.
“Smells like mold.” Knox punched the pillow next to him. “You think the cushions are older than we are?”
“Everything in this building is older than we are.” Lance led the way to Caleb and Riley’s apartment. LouLou jumped on Knox’s braced leg. “Down, you silly mutt.” Lance jerked on the leash.
“She’s alright.” Knox bent and picked up the poodle with both hands. “We’re getting to know each other is all.”
LouLou acted like they were already fast friends, licking every part of Knox’s chin. At the door, Lance pulled out a key and asked, “Got much planned for the next few days?”
Knox let LouLou down to run inside. “Pricing some different systems. Why?”
“Ever wondered about life in construction?” Lance headed straight for the fridge, knowing it would be easier to sell working for free with beer in the mix. He uncapped a couple of long necks and handed one to Knox.
“Not particularly.” Knox took a long draw and sat in one of Riley’s mismatched dining chairs, stretching his braced leg out straight in front of him. LouLou bounced against his leg until he picked her up and set her on his lap.
Lance stayed at the pink marble breakfast bar and told Knox about the bathroom he’d promised Carrie.
“For your ex, huh?” Knox slid his beer on the dining table, rolling it in the condensation. “Is this about your kid?”
“Her income is his, you know? I couldn’t say no.” Yeah, that was why he’d agreed. It had nothing to do with her big, hazel eyes and those red lips he loved so much.
Knox picked up his beer and toasted in his brother’s direction. “For my nephew.”
“For Oliver.” Lance toasted back and then grabbed another couple of beers and joined his brother at the table. He’d wait until they were on beer number three to tell him what Christine wanted.
Knox finished off a second beer in silence, sweeping his hand from LouLou’s head to tail the whole time. “I’ve been thinking of looking up my ex.”
The words were so soft, at first Lance didn’t think he’d heard right. “You were married? When?”
Knox chuckled. “Naw, not me. Ex-girlfriend, from before I joined up.” He tapped his USMC T-shirt.
Carrie’s eyes, those red lips, the way she fit against him. Watching her walk away on Adam’s arm. “Don’t do it, man. Let the past stay in the past.”
Knox downed half the beer in one long swallow. “You’re right. What’s the point?”
“We both need to meet someone new.” Lance clicked his bottle against Knox’s.
Knox chuckled, a gruff, unused sound. “I’ll drink to that.”
Chapter 12
“One babysitter-slash-dog sitter showing up for duty, ma’am.” Lance stood on Carrie’s front stoop, dressed in jeans and yet another Excalibur Construction T-shirt, this one in a faded blue that made his eyes clear as the sky behind him.
“Thank you so much. I know we said Saturday, and it’s Friday. Mom was supposed to come, but she canceled like an hour ago. And Addison from upstairs has a study group or something tonight. You’re a lifesaver.” Carrie held open the door so he could pass through. “I’m not quite ready yet.”
Lance grinned. She narrowed her eyes, knowing he was thinking of how they’d always been late because of her. Little did he know or understand how motherhood had changed everything about her grooming habits. No more soaking in the bathtub with a face mask on and mellow music blasting through the condo. Her showers were short and efficient, and her hair game was simple and no longer required curling irons or elaborate braids. Sure, a bun looked professional, but it also took only a few seconds to secure to the back of her head.
She wasn’t running late tonight because of time-management issues. No, she was running late because she’d emerged from her luxuriously long shower of ten minutes—she’d used an extra five to shave her legs—to find Oliver engaged in an art project involving the back of her bedroom door and her lipstick. Her forty-five-dollar-per-tube lipstick.
“Mama!” He’d grinned up at her, his lips and teeth so red it looked like he was bleeding from a gum disease or maybe scurvy. Before moving on to mural making, he’d decorated himself first. He’d painted his front two top teeth red and drawn lines radiating from his nose out to his ears, reminding her of some kind of maniacal bunny.
“Oli, Oli, Oli.” She’d held him at arm’s length, not wanting to get lipstick all over the cream towel wrapped around her body. In the bathroom, she’d brushed his teeth and dunked him in a quick bath, watching her expensive lipstick swirl down the drain. “Now you won’t be hungry for dinner.”
“Hungry, hungry! Oli’s hungry for his mac and cheese,” he sang happily, splashing water all over the bathroom. She’d given up and laughed. What else could she do? Cry? She’d done plenty of that when he was younger, but she’d learned that laughing made it easier to do what needed to be done.
She’d set him in his booster seat with a plastic bowl of dry Cheerios, his favorite snack, and brought her date outfit into the kitchen so she could keep an eye on him while she got dressed.
Now, standing in front of Lance in her first-date dress, as she’d come to think of it, she wished she was more put together. More the woman he remembered. Not this disaster in a V-necked little black dress so basic that not even her fanciest pair of stilettos could make it interesting. The stilettos she was still looking for.
“It’s no problem.” Lance trailed after her as she flitted around the condo, picking up toys and searching under blankets. “I said I wanted to spend more time with Oli, and I meant it.”
“You’ve been at Kristin’s all day. I hope you’re not too tired.” She rounded on him, eyeing him from head to toe. He looked fit enough for duty. Truth be told, he looked more than fit; he looked delicious. She could gobble him up. But she wouldn’t because they were friends. Just friends. That was how it was going to be. That was why she’d impulsively accepted a date from Number Fourteen. That was why she would go, even though she’d much rather order pizza and catch up on her Netflix queue.
“Knox is a big help.” Lance lifted couch cushions, waving under them like she should check it out. She did find one of Beckham’s chew toys, a battered Santa bear whose squeaker had been gruesomely pulled out of his throat, but no shoes. Lance let the cushions flop back in place. “We made good progress today.”
“That’s good to hear.” She gave up on the shoes. She had fifty more pairs in her bedroom. It wasn’t like it was hard to match a black dress.
“Mama?” Oli hurried after her, picking up speed until he ran smack into her legs, almost taking her down. Luckily, years of living with a Jack Russell had prepared her for such balance challenges, and she reached out a hand to brace herself on the wall. “Pick me up?” He held up his arms in a way that melted her heart and made her forget why she was rushing around like a mad woman. She swept him up and propped him on her hip.
“Oli, Lance is here to look after you. You’ll be good, yes?” It was a rhetorical question. Oliver was always good, even when he was using her lipstick like a paintbrush and hiding her shoes. And her hair. What should she do with her hair?
“Leave it down.
” Lance’s eyes were warm, and she realized she’d asked the last question aloud. The problem with living with a baby and a dog was that she’d gotten in the habit of verbally narrating her life. It kept Beckham entertained, and she’d read that the more language a child heard early in life, the more advanced his language skills would be as he matured. She didn’t speak in a baby voice like her mother did with him. She talked to him like a human being. Granted, he was a short, inexperienced human, but he was her little human, and she loved him.
Carrie touched her still-damp hair. “I don’t have time to dry it.”
Lance lifted a shoulder. “He won’t care.”
Carrie ran a nervous finger over her eyebrow, smoothing the hair outward. “I have to find some heels.”
Lance shooed her away with his fingers. “You go. I got this.” He held out his arms, and Oliver practically leapt out of her hold. Who could blame him? The man looked like he could catch you and hold on, no matter what. Carrie tamped down the hurt feelings that Oliver didn’t put up more of a fuss about leaving her and showed Lance how to adjust the height of the booster seat.
“I put things together for a living. I can figure out a chair.” Lance took over, sliding the seat from its highest to lowest settings. “Relax. Put on some shoes and get out of here.”
Carrie chewed the lipstick off her bottom lip. Why had she said yes to this ridiculous date? Was she really leaving her child alone with his father for the first time? Lance looked so confident standing in her kitchen that she started to believe everything was under control.
It suddenly hit her that Oliver’s father or not, Lance had zero experience with children. Zero experience with her child. She should never have agreed to this. It was too soon to leave them alone. They’d only met twice in the past few days, when, at Lance’s request, she’d brought Beckham to Fur Haven for running dates with LouLou, the adorable poodle that Beckham was clearly in love with.
Laughing at dogs and inspecting various bugs that Oliver found in the park did not mean Lance was ready to take on parenthood. Or even babysitter-hood. She pulled out her phone. “I’m going to cancel.”