Airman to the Rescue

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Airman to the Rescue Page 3

by Heatherly Bell


  “Listen, I’m not being stubborn here.”

  He snorted. “No, of course not.”

  “The fact of the matter is I would let you finish the job if I had a prayer of compensating you for your work. Properly.” In other words, not in long deep kisses and showers in the new bathroom stall she still didn’t have, but in actual money.

  “I get that.”

  “I’m not sure you do.”

  Ignoring her, he walked toward the hallway. Sarah would have followed him, but humiliation kept her seated at the kitchen table, hands folded in front of her. No point in arguing with the man. She’d let him inspect to his heart’s content. Maybe he had a little free time today. She heard him curse when he entered the hallway, and a few more times as he went into each bedroom. Sarah didn’t respond. It didn’t take an engineer to know her remodel was in trouble.

  He walked into the living room and cursed again. Probably at the windows. They were half framed. All the blinds had been removed, and Sarah was currently using sheets for privacy. She stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about the Swiss cheese roof above her. The roof would come later, if at all. She’d planned on giving the new buyers a roof allowance, like the real estate agent had suggested. Roofs were expensive.

  A few minutes and several loud curses later, Matt rejoined her in the kitchen. She glanced at him briefly, then looked away when he shoved a hand through his honey-colored hair. She expected him to say I told you so or any one of a number of phrases he could have let loose with to prove he’d been right and she’d been wrong.

  Instead, he pulled out a chair and sat shoulder to shoulder next to her, stretching his long legs out in front of him. For several minutes he didn’t speak, his arms folded across his chest as he stared at the floor.

  Finally, she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “How bad?”

  His answer was to curse again and shake his head.

  That bad. Sarah buried her face in her hands. “I’m screwed.”

  “No,” he said simply. “Not if you’re willing to listen to me.”

  “I already said I’m not—”

  “Would you shut up and listen?”

  She pursed her lips together and made a show of locking them and throwing away the key. If he had an answer to her predicament, she could at least hear him out. As long as it didn’t involve him working for free, she could be flexible.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  The way those sensual lips said proposition had her wishing he were about to say something quite different than what he was probably about to suggest. Definitely not that they should get naked and test out her new kitchen counters.

  “Yes?” she squeaked out.

  “I’ll do the work in exchange for being able to rent the spare bedroom from you. This way, I don’t have a landlord breathing down my back while I look for another place to live. A win-win for both of us. You’re helping me out.”

  Sarah couldn’t speak for a few seconds. She’d never imagined he would suggest living here. With her. But of course, this was no big deal to him. He was not picturing accidentally running into her coming out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her naked body the way she’d been imagining in the few seconds since he’d mentioned the idea.

  “This house has one bathroom. One.”

  He grinned. “I was taught to share.”

  “And how long do you think it will take to finish?”

  He glanced up at the ceiling, then met her eyes. “Depends on the roof. But I’m thinking a month or two.”

  “That’s about all the time I have left. And I was thinking of skipping the roof anyway.”

  “We’ll discuss it.” He studied her. “This could work.”

  It might work, but she hated the fact Matt was rescuing her again. She’d been an independent woman her entire adult life, but since coming to California this might be the third time Matt had stepped in. Second if she didn’t count the coffee incident. When she’d first come out to California a few months ago, after getting the news her father had died, it was Matt who had understood her grief. Not Stone. Matt who had acted as peacemaker between her and Stone. Matt who had listened to her ramble on for hours. Matt who had been such a good friend to her. He was a great guy, and she wished she didn’t feel a magnetic attraction to him. Life would be simpler if they could be buddies, and if she would never want anything more than that from him.

  Fat chance.

  Seated next to her, far too close, he waited for her answer.

  “But you’ll only get at most two months of free rent before we have to sell the house.”

  “That’s probably all I’ll need.”

  “That doesn’t sound like enough for all your efforts. And then there’s the materials. The cabinets.” She sighed, not wanting to go on with the rest of the list and hear him curse again.

  “I’ve got connections, and I can find a lot of the materials I’ll need for less money.”

  “No.”

  “Ah, hell, Sarah. Now you’re pissing me off.”

  She smiled, stupid with the satisfaction she could make him feel anything at all. “But I have a counter proposition.”

  He scowled. “Let’s hear it.”

  She shifted her focus away from him and those piercing eyes to stare at her hands again. “I think you should be a partner with me in this. When I sell the house, I’ll give you a percentage of the profits I make.”

  He studied her. “That sound fair to you?”

  “It’s the only way I’ll do this.”

  “You’ve already put too much into this house. Bought Stone out of his half.”

  “And because of insane valley prices, the house has already appreciated in value since I did.”

  “I could only take five percent at the most. And that’s after all your expenses.”

  That didn’t seem fair, considering all he’d have to put into this. “I’m thinking twenty percent.”

  He grimaced. “How about ten percent?”

  “Fifteen percent, and that’s my final offer!”

  The chair squeaked across the tile kitchen floor as Matt stood. “You drive a hard bargain. Backward. Fifteen percent, you stubborn woman.”

  Sarah stood and followed him to the front door. “I’ll clear out one of the bedrooms so you can move in.”

  “Leave that for me. I’ll be by day after tomorrow.” He shoved his aviator glasses back on.

  And then he was out the door, leaving her to wonder how she’d ever get through the next two months without jumping Matt Conner’s bones.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE IDEA OF living with Sarah already pushed boundaries Matt didn’t feel comfortable crossing. Taking money from her left him feeling disgusted for accepting her terms. But he knew Sarah would have this no other way.

  Later, he’d try to find a way out of their agreement. For now, he’d take one challenge at a time. First challenge: find a way to live in close proximity with Sarah for two months without kissing her—or worse. Second challenge: fix the mess the previous contractor left for him. He was driving down Monterey Road toward his father’s house when his third challenge buzzed his cell phone.

  Joanne. His ex.

  He punched her through to the speaker. “What’s up?”

  “We have a problem here. Junior has decided he has a new purpose in life. It’s called driving his mother to drink.”

  “What now?”

  “He and his friends spray-painted the long wooden fence down from the high school. Security cameras caught the little Einsteins, and now the school wants to have a conference with all the parents before the end of the year. I want you there. I think maybe having his father be an Air Force veteran could help. Can you come in your uniform?”

 
; “Are you kidding me?”

  “Why not?”

  “First, I wouldn’t do that if it would get my own father off death row. Second, I’m no longer in the Air Force. I’m not going to put on the uniform to prevent my son from receiving his deserved punishment.”

  “There you go again, father of the year.”

  Even now it stung, despite knowing the source. Joanne had never before encouraged his relationship with Hunter. She’d simply wanted the checks sent on time, no matter what part of the country he’d been living in at the time. He’d paid child support faithfully for years, but since he’d separated from the Air Force and settled back in his hometown for good, he wanted a real relationship with fifteen-year-old Hunter. And the kid wanted to hang out with Matt about as much as he wanted to repeat his sophomore year.

  “Text me the day and time and I’ll be there.” He hung up.

  Hunter might not want to have anything to do with Matt, but it didn’t mean he could give up. He hadn’t worked his ass off for most of his life only to be intimidated by a fifteen-year-old kid now. Matt wanted to be some kind of an influence on his son in the next few years, maybe so the kid wouldn’t wind up making some of the same colossal “think with the little head” mistakes Matt had made in his teens.

  It also wouldn’t hurt to demonstrate to a certain dark-haired beauty that not all estranged fathers were deadbeats. Matt tried to tell himself it had nothing to do with Sarah, but something about her made him care a lot more deeply for her than he wanted to. More than was probably wise. Not that he’d been able to stop. He enjoyed teasing her, playing with her, and while he told himself it was all harmless flirting, he’d have to put a stop to it if they were going to be living together. Because were he being honest with himself, he and Sarah weren’t a good idea for many reasons. She planned to leave town after selling her father’s house for a tidy profit, and for the first time in years, Matt was determined to be grounded. He’d stay here in Fortune at least until Hunter graduated from high school.

  Matt stopped by the local market and stocked up on a few of his father’s favorites, and thirty minutes later he arrived at Dad’s gated condominium complex in San Jose.

  “Hey, Dad.” He said as he let himself in the front door with his spare set of keys.

  Dad sat in front of the TV watching an old Western. “Did you get my cookies?”

  “You think I would forget after you left me ten voice mails in the space of an hour?” Matt set the brown paper bags on the kitchen counter and started unpacking.

  Dad wasn’t much for cooking any longer, so Matt usually bought frozen and prepackaged meals he could heat in a microwave. The cookies were a treat he didn’t think should be in any sixty-six-year-old man’s wheelhouse but it was hard to argue with the man. Plus, Matt’s special deliveries were about the only time they spent together.

  “Did you get the double-stuffs? I don’t want those little thin shits they’re trying to sell to the health nuts. I want the real deal.”

  “Got the real deal.” Matt lobbed a package of the sugar lard in his Dad’s direction and the man caught them one-handed.

  “Hear from your son lately?”

  “I’m going to be seeing him again next week.”

  “Good, good. A boy needs his father.”

  A boy needed his father to show him how to be a man. Matt agreed. But Hunter didn’t need Matt to bail him out of jams he’d created for himself. “He’s got himself into some trouble and Joanne asked me to come to the meeting at the school.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Dad ripped open the package of cookies.

  “Something about a fence they tagged.”

  “Stupid kids,” Dad muttered. “It’s good you’re going over there. Good that Joanne asked you to help. She’s a good mother. You lucked out.”

  Matt supposed this was a dig at his own mother, who’d taken off when he was ten. Dad had been a single father, choosing never to remarry, and putting Matt first in everything. He’d been a Class A hard-ass, leading Matt to find boot camp a kind of mini-vacation, but he’d kept Matt out of trouble. Mostly. Until Hunter. The resulting humiliation at having failed to “keep it in his pants,” as his father had repeatedly warned him to do, still hung over Matt.

  As the only son of a top-level executive in the high-tech world of Silicon Valley, Matt had been expected and groomed to succeed. And succeed big. With his grades and test scores, he could have made it into an Ivy League school, until one unfortunate night almost sixteen years ago. Shocked and disappointed in Matt, Dad had still offered to pay child support to Joanne so his plans for Matt would not have to be derailed, and had vehemently opposed his idea to join the Air Force. But no way in hell would Matt allow his father to take care of the responsibilities that were rightfully Matt’s. It meant that he’d grown up overnight. He’d have been ashamed to be off at college enjoying his freedom while his Dad sent regular checks to Joanne. While Joanne struggled to get through business school, living with her parents and raising their child.

  Then again, Dad had never understood Matt’s draw to service. He’d wanted to join up, as had many of his friends in a post-9/11 world. Plan B had turned out to be the best option for Matt, who’d never much aspired to hang with Ivy Leaguers, top-tier grades or not. The Air Force had been everything to him for years. His friends. His family. His life.

  Now he was out and trying to figure out life after the Air Force. Plan C.

  “Why don’t you take the kid fishing?” Dad now asked between cookie bites. “I hear it’s a good way to connect.”

  Good way to connect? Dad, who had always been about as warm and fuzzy as a missile, suddenly had nothing but fatherly advice for Matt. He would have loved to have gone fishing with his dad. Even once.

  “Where do you hear this?”

  “Dr. Phil.”

  Matt couldn’t help it. He laughed. A few years ago, Dad would have laughed off TV doctor advice, too. But now that he’d retired and couldn’t spend all day on the golf course, he had turned to TV to fill some of his free time.

  “All right, if you don’t want Dr. Phil’s advice, don’t ask for it.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Listen, Mr. Smart Ass, I’m still your father.”

  “Dad, I’m thirty-two. I’ve been lacing my own shoes for a while.”

  “So I have nothing to add to the conversation?”

  Matt cleared his throat. “I’ll see if he wants to go fishing. And maybe you could go with us.”

  “I’ve never fished in my life. Why would I want to start now when I’m busy working on my golf game? You know what? Forget the fishing. I never took you fishing, and look how well you turned out. Except for that little hiccup, you were a great kid.”

  Matt’s jaw tightened. “You mean Hunter. He’s the little hiccup?”

  To his father’s credit, he wouldn’t meet Matt’s gaze. “Not him. Joanne was the little hiccup. Told you to keep it in your pants. Just because you have women falling all over you doesn’t mean you have to sow your seeds everywhere.”

  Everywhere? Hardly. That had been only the second time he’d ever been with a girl, and he’d screwed up royally. Then again, his dad had never given much advice beyond his fascination with pants. Near as Matt could recall, the whole event had happened in the backseat of a truck and fast enough that he hadn’t even taken his pants off. Since then, he liked to think he’d learned a little bit more how to please a woman, and made wiser choices regarding the women he chose to spend his time with.

  The thought brought him back to Sarah. With the pull she had on him, he wasn’t sure how he’d make this new living arrangement work, but he had to try. She needed him, and he wasn’t doing anything more than he would for any other good friend.

  And he would keep telling himself that until he actually believed it.

&n
bsp; Sarah was already dealing with too much. She’d felt cheated out of an opportunity to say goodbye to her father when he’d become ill with cancer and hadn’t wanted Stone to notify either his ex-wife or Sarah. James Mcallister hadn’t wanted either of them to see him withered away, which both Stone and Matt understood. Sarah, not so much. When she’d first bought the house and not long after decided to flip it for a profit, Matt had convinced himself she was doing it as a way to flip her father off, too. To let him know the house meant nothing more to her than a financial windfall. No sentiment involved. But she’d lingered for months in that old house, even getting a temporary job at the airport to stay a bit longer.

  She’d flirted mercilessly with him at the beginning, and he with her if he were being honest. But he wouldn’t have a casual fling with his best friend’s kid sister. He didn’t need the drama or the guilt. Matt would simply bide his time, keep his hands to himself and fix her house. She’d be gone soon enough.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HUNTER CONNER WAS about to blow through his next high level on “Call of Duty” when he heard his mother yelling from downstairs. She was so loud that he had to keep turning the volume up but he could still hear her voice screeching in the background. He’d closed his bedroom door and everything. This wouldn’t be a problem if he could find his earbuds but at the moment they were MIA.

  “Hunter!” His bedroom door swung open.

  No knock or anything. It was like living in a damn zoo. He ignored his mother and kept on shooting the terrorists. One down. Two.

  “Put that stupid game down. I need to talk to you!”

  Abort mission! Abort!

  She ripped the controller out of his hands.

  “What do you want?” The sooner she got this over with, the sooner he’d get back to killing terrorists. He could kick ass with the best of them. But his mother was all about ruining his life.

  “I shouldn’t even let you play this game. You’re in trouble, mister. I talked to your father and he’s coming to the meeting with us.”

 

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