by Sara Daniel
“Have you?” Mrs. Jamison drilled him with frosty blue eyes. “What do you mean by everything?”
Okay, he hadn’t done everything. If Veronica knew half the things he imagined, she’d run back home as fast as her clunker car would take her. If her mother knew, she’d likely use her connections to have Matt locked up so fast he’d never see another minute of daylight as long as he lived.
“Not that, Mother.” Veronica sounded appalled. She stood and touched her mom’s arm. “Like you, Matt believes that I never should have left the comfort of your home or stepped foot in this town.”
“Does he?” Mrs. Jamison said coolly. “I’ll have you know, Veronica was raised to be a lady and to have high standards when it came to men.”
And Matt came up short. He’d tried to be a society man before, and it wasn’t for him. But it scared him how much he’d been willing to consider trying again when his arms were locked around her and her soft lips were pressed to his.
“Matt and I have a business relationship,” Veronica said firmly. “Nothing more. I’m in Kortville because it’s part of my career plan, not because a man is keeping me here.”
A statement like that begged for Matt to revisit those kisses from earlier and make himself the reason she was sticking around. He wouldn’t pretend to have long-term intentions. A lasting relationship between a debutante and a construction worker was never going to happen. If his experience with Kimberly wasn’t enough of a reminder, Veronica’s mother looked plenty eager to set him straight on how much of a chance he had with her daughter.
…
“What are your intentions toward our Matt?”
“I beg your pardon?” Veronica balanced the laundry basket against her hip, trying to close the trunk of her car with one hand.
Becca stood by the Laundromat door, her own basket tucked against her hip, looking considerably less friendly than when she’d offered Veronica landscaping tips for her trailer earlier. “Everyone’s talking about you two sucking face until he couldn’t see straight.”
Veronica managed to close the trunk, but her basket slid to the ground, dumping a pair of pink lacy panties on the pavement. Now her underwear was on display for the entire town to see. Could she not preserve an ounce of pride?
“You saw us kissing?” Much more intriguing was the thought of Matt so affected by the kiss that he couldn’t see straight.
“Not personally. But Barney burned a whole batch of doughnuts while he was staring through the window. Rumor has it he has a really good pair of binoculars under his cash register. He doesn’t miss a thing that goes on across the street.”
“I-I see.” She understood now—and not just about the spy network that she’d clearly underestimated. Deflecting questions from parents and society matrons trying to protect her was practically second nature for Veronica. But no one had ever been concerned that she might break a man’s heart, give him a bad reputation, or otherwise be a bad influence. She’d always been the good girl. Mostly, it was her upbringing, but no one had rendered her incoherent with attraction to make her want to break the rules, either.
She doubted the townspeople would take comfort in knowing she was in uncharted territory. She certainly couldn’t. She already depended on Matt to help her navigate the construction business. She couldn’t let him have control over her emotions, too.
“I don’t have any intentions, except to be a good neighbor and employee and to plant a few flowers so my trailer doesn’t look like it was dropped on a post-apocalyptic landscape.”
Becca snickered as she pulled open the Laundromat door, gesturing Veronica inside ahead of her. “You know, I have a lot of good neighbors, but they don’t go smacking their lips on mine.” She sighed. “Not that I don’t fantasize about it once in a while.”
“Yeah? Anyone in particular you’re fantasizing about?” Veronica asked.
Becca’s cheeks turned pink, and she dumped her basket on an empty counter, giving the sorting process more concentration than it warranted. “At this point, I’d fantasize about anyone with a pulse.”
Veronica laughed, not believing her for a second. “Surely you have better prospects than that.”
Becca slanted her a look. “You trying raising a sixteen-year-old truant and having a life of your own to boot. Getting back to my point, though—the whole town is looking out for Matt. We’ve seen how you rich girls dazzle him and how much you hurt him when you leave.”
It seemed Matt had given up everything when he’d come back to take over his brother’s life. To Becca and the others who lived here, Veronica was no different than the woman who hadn’t been strong enough to give him what he needed. She set her basket in the opposite corner and crossed the room to Becca, touching her sleeve earnestly. “You don’t have to worry about me hurting Matt. Whatever physical contact people witnessed, it had nothing to do with a relationship; nobody’s going to lose their heart. We both have more sense than that.”
At least she knew Matt did. She was no longer certain about herself.
…
“Uncle Matt, if you can’t do braids, can you twist my hair like this?”
Matt glanced at the ripped-out magazine page Jenny held up. The starlet posing for the camera had an overteased, oversprayed mop of orange hair. “Where did you get this?”
“Stephanie brought it to school. She said her mom is going to fix her hair like this for the picnic tomorrow.”
He set the picture facedown on the coffee table. “Why don’t we cut yours short so you don’t have to worry about fixing it at all?”
“No.” She leaned her head back, making her shoulder-length mane reach the middle of her back. “I like it long. Can I call Veronica to style it for me?”
He swiped his hand across his lips, which still tingled with the memory of Veronica’s mouth pressed to his. “No. We’re not going anywhere tonight, so all we need to do is comb it before you go to bed.”
“But I want to do something fun. I looked everywhere, and we don’t even have pink bandanas.”
“Bring me a brush and two ponytail holders, and I’ll give you pigtails. Then how about we go outside and play some catch.” Whatever Veronica’s Friday night plans were, he was sure they were more exciting than throwing a ball around. But Matt was perfectly content with the low-key entertainment.
Jenny made a face. “Pigtails are for babies. When can I see Veronica again? She likes dresses and pretty hair. She even has that song we listened to on TV on her iPod.”
Matt rubbed his temples. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t mold his niece’s personality into that of a tomboy. He hated the wistfulness in her voice when she talked about the things he was denying her, as if he were standing between her and happiness. “What about Stephanie?”
Jenny’s eyes brightened, and she snatched the magazine page off the table. “Can I call her and see if she can sleep over tonight? Pleeeease.”
A sleepover full of girl talk, pop music, hair spray, and makeup. He’d rather vacate the house and pitch a tent in the yard. “What about playing catch?”
“I want to play with Stephanie.”
He couldn’t keep denying Jenny. She was already trying to latch onto Veronica to fill the void he was ignoring. He needed to give her acceptable outlets, preferably under his supervision. “All right, you can call. No sleepover tonight, though. She can come play for a couple hours, and we’ll take her home before bedtime.”
Jenny went into the kitchen to retrieve the phone. A couple minutes later, she returned with her hand over the mouthpiece. “Can I go to Stephanie’s house instead, and then sleep over at her house next Saturday night?”
“Let me talk to her mom.” Matt held out his hand for the receiver. Heidi was a practical small-town single mom who was having a tough time making ends meet. She wouldn’t fill Jenny’s head with frivolous nonsense. But that did nothing to thaw the icy fear gripping him that this little girl who was his final connection to his brother could grow up into a sophisticated, sup
erficial woman. A woman who had nothing but disdain for him and the path he’d chosen.
…
“So I’m confused,” Veronica said, taking a five-dollar bill to the change machine. “Is Toby your son? You can’t possibly be old enough—”
“No, no. Brother. Although really, if you ask him, I’m probably just the maid who does his laundry.”
“What about your parents?” Veronica asked. The machine spit the bill back at her. She flattened it and fed it in again.
“Long, boring story. Look at these jeans.” She held up a pair that were caked in mud and no doubt belonged to Toby. “I’m so thankful he loves doing construction and working for Matt, but honestly I’ve never seen clothes so disgustingly dirty as what comes off him after he gets home at the end of the day.”
Veronica smiled genuinely despite the blatant change of subject. The machine rejected her money for the third straight time. “What’s the trick to get this quarter machine to take my bills?”
Becca looked up from stuffing her brother’s clothes in the washer. “Ignore what it says. It won’t take fives. Only ones.”
“Oh.” Veronica took back her five as the machine spit it out once again. At least it wasn’t targeting her for fraudulent currency. “I don’t have singles. How do I get change?”
Becca glanced at her watch. “The grocery store’s closed. You’ll have to go to the diner. Pauline will switch it out for you.”
Veronica laughed. She couldn’t help it. “How many espressos will I have to drink before she gets around to it?”
Becca looked confused for a moment, but then her eyes brightened. “Here’s what you do. Say, ‘Pauline, I want the daily special to go, and I need change for the Laundromat because you know those damn dryers are going to eat every quarter I have and I’m going to be there all night as it is, so I need to run.’”
“The dryers take that long to dry the clothes?” Veronica asked. She’d hoped to make it back to her trailer for an early night.
“If you’re lucky. If not, be prepared to wear damp clothes for the next couple days.”
Veronica resigned herself to the change of plans. At least she would be in good company. “How about I get two specials when I make the diner run? It sounds like we’ll be making a night of it.”
Becca grinned. “Sounds heavenly. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve hung out on a Friday night with someone I’m not related to.”
“As a bonus, I have a pulse, too,” Veronica said, and they both dissolved into laughter.
…
Matt took the screen door off its hinges and leaned it against the trailer. Veronica likely wouldn’t be pleased if she came back and found she had no door. But he’d promised he would fix it on his first free evening, and he planned to not only have the screen back on but the repaired front door hung before she came home. He’d be long gone, too.
He tried not to think about where she’d disappeared to. She wasn’t alone in her trailer, and she sure hadn’t made an effort to spend the evening with him. He forced himself to block any more speculation. After he fixed the door, he needed to swing by the office and see whether she’d trashed his filing system. He hadn’t paid a bill or sent an invoice all week. Work took priority over a fantasy date with a woman who never would have given him the time of day if she hadn’t been forced into close constant contact with him.
“Is this part of the business relationship you have with my daughter?” someone demanded.
Matt turned to find Veronica’s mother walking across the gravel toward him. He hadn’t heard her drive up. She’d gotten her car back, and apparently, it was as quiet as it was expensive. She was wearing the same freezing stare she’d turned on him earlier. Only this time Veronica wasn’t here to deflect her, and Jenny wasn’t around to soften her gaze.
Matt squared his shoulders and prepared for frostbite. “This is being neighborly. You might not recall what it’s like here, but in Kortville we look out for each other, and everyone pitches in to help.”
Her mouth tightened. “What happened to the door that made it need to be replaced?”
Provoking her wasn’t a prudent idea, but Matt, hick that he was, couldn’t resist. “I broke it trying to convince her she was better off with you.”
“You forced your way in on her?” Mrs. Jamison reached into her purse—for a gun, Mace, or a cell phone to call the police, Matt wasn’t sure which, but he valued his life enough to explain.
“No, no. I broke it trying to convince her the trailer wasn’t in livable condition and she shouldn’t move in here. She moved in anyway.”
Mrs. Jamison studied the tacky trailer. “I don’t understand what possessed her to do this. She’s always been such a good girl. I hate to blackmail her, but she has to understand her father could lose everything without her cooperation.”
“Cooperation with what?”
“The merger. Her life, her family, her fiancé are in Chicago waiting for her to get over her jitters.”
“Her fiancé?” Matt repeated. Veronica had mentioned not wanting to marry some shmuck, but a guy who didn’t care if she existed wouldn’t be her fiancé.
She didn’t kiss like a woman who had a man she loved waiting for her.
“Does he love Veronica?”
“Everyone loves Veronica,” her mother said confidently. “Anyway, what’s Kortville Construction worth?”
“To me—priceless. Why?” Matt turned back to hanging the door, hoping she’d take the hint that she’d overstepped her bounds, not shoot him in the back.
“I need a dollar amount. If you don’t know, I’ll pay for the appraisal. I’ll deposit a check for exactly half the amount in your personal account and you can use it to buy out my father. My only condition is that you immediately fire Veronica.”
Matt carefully leaned the wooden door against the trailer again. Veronica would be furious if she ever found out. “You want me to fire your daughter so she’ll come home and marry some guy who’ll then merge his company with yours?”
“It’s the only way my husband can keep himself involved in his company once the businesses are combined,” Mrs. Jamison said, twisting her hands on her purse handle.
“You’ve certainly done your research to figure out what I want,” Matt said. “Have you ever asked Veronica what she wants?”
He hadn’t asked her, either. But when they kissed, he hadn’t had to. He knew.
Chapter Eight
After she and Becca had recovered from their fit of laughter, Veronica settled in her car to make the quick trip from the Laundromat to the diner. She’d just managed to get the engine to turn over when her phone rang. Her heart lurched, but when she looked at the screen, disappointment hit her hard. “Hi, Paige.”
“Trevor can get you the funding for the community needs center,” she said briskly.
Veronica had e-mailed the application back less than an hour ago. She hadn’t expected a response until at least next week. “In exchange for?”
“Your appearance with him at your father’s board of directors’ dinner party tomorrow night. He needs to show that the engagement is on to get your father on board for the merger.”
If she did it, she’d give up all her principles that had led her to leave home in the first place. If she didn’t, she’d never get the townspeople to accept her and carve out the life she wanted here. “Was this my parents’ idea or Trevor’s?”
“All I know is it wasn’t my idea.” Paige sounded perturbed.
“Where’s the funding coming from?”
“I’m e-mailing you all the details. You can think about it tonight, and I’ll send a car to get you tomorrow afternoon.”
“I have a car,” Veronica replied. This wasn’t how she had planned things. Helping the town was supposed to help her, too. Now getting Kortville’s inhabitants to accept her meant sacrificing her future here.
She wrapped up the conversation, parked in front of the diner, and mentally repeated Becca’s speech. Then sh
e pasted a smile on her face and walked past the flyers for the picnic and into the building.
“Oh, Veronica, you have to try this strawberry-mango chilled espresso,” Pauline called from behind the counter.
She was tempted to agree. Pauline’s passion for her concoctions was contagious, but the night was already turning into a much more demanding project than she’d anticipated. “I need two specials as a carry-out, and I need a bunch of change. I’m doing laundry, and I’m told the dryers are going to take all night, so I need to get back to them.”
“Those dryers are awful, aren’t they?” Pauline said with feeling. “I wish we could organize a boycott of the Laundromat. You have to come here for quarters, the washers start smoking if you overload them by so much as a single sock, and you could stay there for three weeks and the dryers will never get the clothes totally dry.”
Veronica wished she’d researched her clothes-washing options before she’d committed to using the Laundromat. She’d have to check with Becca to make sure she hadn’t overloaded the washer. She did not want her clothes to start smoking. “Who owns it? Have you told them your concerns?”
“Wilbur and Agatha.” Pauline rolled her eyes. “Look, they’re good people, but they have a washing machine in their house. They don’t understand how frustrating it is.”
The Hollisters were the most approachable people in town. If there was a problem, no one wanted to create a solution more than they did. “They care about the good of the community. Maybe they never realized the dryers don’t work.”
Pauline looked as though she didn’t believe it for a second. “I hear you’re trying to help them out with the food pantry and clothing drop off they’ve been talking about for years. If you earn their eternal gratitude by setting one up, see if you can get them to repay you by upgrading their washers and dryers.”
“You have a deal.” Veronica smiled for real this time. “Can you add two strawberry-mango espressos to our order so Becca and I will stay awake while we’re drying our clothes?”
Pauline beamed at her as the door to the diner opened again. “I’m experimenting with sushi, too. Let me send some and a rating packet with you.”