Whatever You Need (The Haneys Book 2)

by Barbara Longley

  Just as he’d managed the superhero feat of sitting down beside the woman of his dreams, his phone rang. Wyatt reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell to check the ID. His brother. “Hey, Sam.”

  “Hey yourself. Where are you?” Sam asked. “You’re supposed to be here for a wedding planning session and dinner.”

  “Cripes. Sorry.” He shot up from the couch. “Totally slipped my mind. We had a fire at my apartment building this afternoon, and I—”

  “Is everyone all right? How bad was it?”

  “No injuries. The fire department got here before the fire had a chance to spread much.” Wyatt edged his way past Kayla. Their knees touched as he slid by. Hers were bare; his were covered in denim. Still, his lungs seized. “I’m on my way. I’ll tell you about it when I get there.” Wyatt ended the call and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry. I have to go. I totally forgot I’m supposed to be at a wedding-planning thing right now.”

  Kayla’s blue eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “I’ll bet you look great in a tux,” Mariah purred.

  “I’m late. Gotta go,” he muttered.

  “Wyatt,” Kayla called just as he opened her door.

  “Yeah?” Amazing how much he liked the sound of his name coming from her mouth.

  “Thanks for everything. I owe you. Rain check on the beer and pizza?”

  “Sure.” She wanted a rain check with weird, scarred Hoodie Guy. Grinning, he took the stairs to the back door, to the lot where he’d parked his truck. He climbed in, cranked the engine and set out for his grandparents’ house. They lived in a grand old two-story saltbox near Macalester College, the Mac-Groveland area. After his parents died, he and his siblings had lived there too, and he loved the big old house. Living close to Grandpa Joe and Grandma Maggie was a priority for him. They were already in their early seventies, and if either of them ever needed him, or if something happened, he could get to their place quickly.

  Wyatt parked his truck and hurried inside. He passed through the front of the house to the kitchen, where a patio door led to their private fenced yard. Gramps was grilling burgers and brats. Wyatt’s mouth watered at the scent of the grilling meat, and his stomach gurgled in agreement. He’d never gotten around to making that sandwich for lunch, opting to reinstall Kayla’s dead bolt instead. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “We heard you had a fire at your apartment,” Grandma Maggie said, coming toward him. “Are you all right? Was there much damage?” She wrapped her arms around his waist. The top of her head didn’t even reach his chin.

  “I’m fine.” He hugged her back. “The fire wasn’t in my apartment, Gram.” Nothing beat one of his grandmother’s warm, pillowy hugs. She always smelled like cookies and love.

  “Tell us what happened?” Haley called from her place in one of the patio chairs.

  “Let me get settled first.” His sister handed him a beer. “Thanks, Josey,” he said, twisting off the cap. His soon to be sister-in-law’s two best friends were also there. Felicia, Kathy and his sister would be Haley’s attendants, while he, their cousin Jerry, and Haley’s brother Frank would stand up for Sam. “What have I missed?”

  Sam came through the patio doors just then. “Well, we settled on where we’re having the groom’s dinner, and since you weren’t here, we all voted. You get to pick up the tab.”

  “Ha-ha. Not very funny.” Wyatt gave the BBQ grill a wide berth and wended his way to an empty chair. Ever since the stupid accident he’d had when he was a kid—the source of his ugly scars—he’d avoided charcoal grills altogether.

  “So, tell us about the fire,” Sam said, taking his place beside Haley.

  “The apartment above mine had an electrical fire in the dining area. The woman who lives there wasn’t home. When I heard the alarm go off, I called the fire department and got everyone out of the building.”

  Sam’s brow rose. “The blonde with the little boy?”

  Wyatt nodded. “Her name is Kayla, and her son’s name is Brady. The building doesn’t even come close to meeting electrical code. Once the fire marshal investigates, there will be a citation.”

  Would the fire marshal allow Kayla and her son to stay in her damaged apartment after the investigation? He hoped so. Otherwise, she’d move and he’d lose his chance to get to know her.

  He twisted around to face his grandfather. “Grandpa Joe, I want to bid on the rewiring job. The entire building needs a complete rewire, grounding and circuit boxes. The electrical there is an ancient mess. I’ve never done an estimate for a commercial job this big before. Will you help?”

  If he got a jump on the bid, getting it ready so they could submit it as soon as the building was cited, he’d increase their chances of getting the job. After all, citations came with time frames for compliance.

  “Of course.” Gramps transferred burgers and brats onto a platter of waiting buns. “Let’s do a walk-through Monday morning. Do you know which insurance company the owners use? If we’re lucky, it’ll be a company we’ve worked with on claims in the past.”

  “Not yet. I’ll get that information ASAP. I do have contact information for the owners, though. There’s other work to bid on besides the wiring. The firemen tore down parts of the ceiling in Kayla’s apartment and in the hallway, and some of the ceiling joists will need to be replaced. The apartment above hers is vacant right now, which will make everything a lot easier.” A good thing, since the fire compromised the floor in that apartment.

  Wyatt sipped his beer, thoughts of Kayla dancing around in his mind. She’d offered him a rain check on beer and pizza. The prospect both thrilled and frightened him. He was six foot two and twenty-five years old, yet he blushed like a little girl over just about everything. Worse, he mostly clammed up or mumbled when anyone he didn’t know spoke to him. It sucked to be him.

  He’d done the “shy brain” research and understood the physiological effects. Shy brains reacted differently to stimuli than most people’s. His amygdala viewed strangers, authority figures, and for him, the opposite sex—especially those of the opposite sex he found attractive—as though they were threats and a cause for fear. That reaction translated into humiliating blushes, heart palpitations, dry mouth and sweating. Understanding gave him no control over it, though, nor did it make socializing any easier. Too bad there were no anti-shyness pills.

  “I don’t get why you don’t just move,” Sam said. “You’ve done your part, sent all those letters and gotten nowhere. Why not buy a condo or a townhouse? Start earning equity.”

  “Well, aren’t you all domesticated and mature all of the sudden,” Wyatt teased. “Moving has no bearing on whether or not we bid on the job. Besides, I don’t want to move. I’m close to Gram and Gramps. I can walk to several nearby restaurants, and the river parkway is only two blocks away.” The Mississippi River offered spectacular views in every season, and he loved to bike the trails along the bluffs. “I’m surrounded by historical sites and grand old houses and buildings.” He shrugged. “I like where I live.”

  “OK.” Sam flashed him a wry grin. “So, we’ll bid, but that’s no guarantee we’ll get the job.”

  “I know, but it’s worth a try.” He didn’t mention he intended to persuade the insurance company and owners to grant them the job by sending copies of his letters and the date-stamped pictures he’d taken over the years of the many electrical code violations. He wouldn’t say it outright, but hiring Haney & Sons could be perceived as a way for them to avert a lawsuit for negligence.

  “I like that elegant old building, Wyatt,” Grandma Maggie said with a nostalgic smile. She brought a large crockery bowl of her famous baked beans to the table. “Reminds me of my youth.”

  Josey frowned. “Gram, his apartment complex was built in 1911, which was way before your time.”

  “But not before my parents’ time, and that building was there when I was a girl. Perhaps my folks knew people who lived there.” She sighed. “I’ve always loved old things.”
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  “Why, thank you, sweetheart,” Grandpa Joe said, kissing her cheek. “I love you too.”

  “We aren’t quite antiques yet.” Gram chuckled and swatted his shoulder. “Dinner is ready. Come and eat, everyone.”

  Wyatt moved to the table. Starving now, he loaded his plate as each dish was passed his way, taking a burger and a brat. Haley, her friends and his sister sat clustered together at one end, chatting happily about the upcoming wedding. She and Sam had chosen New Year’s Eve for their wedding date, and they’d already booked a ten-day Caribbean cruise for their honeymoon.

  Wyatt was jealous of his brother’s domestic bliss, but in a good way. He’d worried about what would become of his older brother. Sam had shut his heart off from any possibility of happily-ever-after after their parents died. And then there had been that unfortunate promiscuous phase Sam had gone through. Good thing all that stopped when he met Haley.

  He glanced at his soon to be sister-in-law, and his heart warmed. She’d saved his brother from a sad, empty life, and Wyatt loved her for that. As an added perk, she was fun to tease, another thing he appreciated about her. “Haley, you don’t want your last name to be only one letter different than your first name, do you?” Wyatt called down the table. “Have you decided what to do about that yet?”

  “I have.” Haley put down her burger and nodded, her expression solemn. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’ve decided Sam will have to take my last name instead. We’ll be the Coopers, like my mom and dad.” A triumphant grin lit her face.

  “Oh, you’re good,” Wyatt chuckled.

  “What?” Sam’s brow creased. “I don’t remember having that discussion.”

  “Taking Haley’s name would rid you of that pesky rep you have from the Loaded Question radio show, Sam,” Josey offered. “Nobody would know you were once Sam Haney, the handsiest handyman in the Twin Cities.”

  “Good point,” Felicia, one of Haley’s bridesmaids, agreed. “Besides, this is the twenty-first century. No reason for a woman to take a man’s name anymore, and there’s no reason why a man can’t take his wife’s name.”

  Kathy, Haley’s maid of honor, nodded. “I know quite a few women who’ve kept their last names when they married. It’s fairly common now.”

  The debate about who should take whose name continued on through the rest of the meal and dessert. Once the table had been cleared, the wedding books and magazines came out, and bridesmaids’ dresses were scrutinized at Haley’s end of the table.

  “How would you two feel about buying matching suits for the wedding instead of renting tuxes?” Haley asked, glancing at him and Frank. “We’re thinking you could all wear gray suits, matching shirts, vests and ties. That way, you’ll own something nice to wear for other dressy occasions.”

  “I’m cool with that,” Haley’s brother Frank said. “I need to buy a suit for job interviews anyway.”

  “I’m fine with whatever you two want,” Wyatt agreed.

  “No hoods.” Sam glanced at Wyatt. “You OK with that?”

  “Well, duh.” He’d have to be fine with it. Even he knew hooded sweatshirts weren’t appropriate wedding attire. Although . . . he imagined what his wedding would be like if he ever got that lucky. He’d do it up comic book–style. He and his groomsmen would all wear hooded sweatshirts with their favorite Marvel or DC Comics superheroes silkscreened on the front and back. They’d also wear jeans. What would his bride wear? Probably a Wonder Woman costume, because it would be a wonder he’d managed to get a woman to the altar in the first place.

  A pang of loneliness gripped him. Would he ever find someone who would see through the blushes and tied tongue to the man he was inside? He’d always wanted a family of his own, but to find a wife, he first had to date. And to date, he’d have to meet a woman with the patience to stick around long enough for him to get past his shyness to ask her out.

  He wanted to ask Kayla out, but even thinking about it turned him into a tangled mess of nerves. Every time she looked at him, his face heated and he broke out in a sweat. Not attractive. She probably saw him as a weirdo—Hoodie Guy, the socially awkward loner in the building by day, superhero in his fantasies at night. Oh, yeah. I am a comic book character.

  Thursday afternoon, Kayla walked into the day-care center, and Brady ran to her, wrapping his arms around her legs. She liked the center. They provided a preschool curriculum as well as day care, and all for one exorbitant, bank-account-breaking price. At least it was convenient, and even more important, Brady was happy there.

  “Mommy,” Brady said, grinning up at her.

  “Did you have a good day, kiddo?” she asked, cradling his adorable face between her palms.

  “Yeah. You wanna see the picture I drawed?” He took her hand and tugged her toward the bulletin board.

  “Of course I want to see the picture you drew.” Kayla waved at the director, whose office walls were windows facing the three different age-grouped rooms. The director smiled back and waved. Brady pointed to his work of art done in crayon. Round-bellied figures with sticks for arms and legs, but at least they had all the appropriate appendages now. “Do you want to tell me about your picture?”

  “Uh-huh. This is Superman,” he said, pointing to the figure scribbled with red and blue. “This is a bad guy.” Brady touched each figure as he explained the plot. “The bad guy wants to steal all our snacks and toys, but Superman won’t let him.”

  Well, that explained the various blobs of color surrounding the characters. Snacks and toys. “Cool, Brady. I like your drawing and your story.” Kayla ran her fingers through his hair. “Ready to go home?” After spending the entire afternoon cleaning teeth, she was beat, and her shoulders ached. But at least she was at the point in her program now where she was able to do the job she’d been trained to do, albeit under careful supervision. Intense scrutiny actually.

  The patients she saw didn’t have dental insurance, so they took advantage of the low rates offered to have their teeth cleaned and checked by students. Some were real challenges. One lady she’d worked on today hadn’t been to a dentist in ten years—ten years’ worth of tartar buildup she’d had to scrape away. Kayla rolled her shoulders, attempting to loosen the tight muscles.

  “Yep.” Brady bounced around to emphasize his willingness to go home.

  “Let’s go, then.” It had been five days since the fire, and the smell in her apartment had begun to fade a bit, thanks to gallons of Febreze. She’d bought an extension cord like the one Wyatt had loaned her, but she hadn’t seen him to give his back yet. Maybe he’d be around tonight. If so, she’d stop by and return his cord.

  The fact that he’d left for a wedding-planning session had piqued her curiosity even more. Tall, good-looking and sexy, of course he was engaged, not that it mattered. They were just neighbors, and maybe they’d become casual acquaintances. Perhaps they’d even graduate to friends. She might even meet his fiancée, and they’d become friends too, and that would be a good thing.

  Kayla signed her son out, and they walked through the front door and into the late July heat. Dare she use the window air conditioner in her living room today? What if having the AC running started a fire while she and Brady were sleeping, and it spread really fast? All the way home she obsessed about the tragic possibilities, about bigger and badder BAMs.

  By the time she pulled into her parking spot behind the building, she’d stirred herself into a stew of worst-case scenarios. Brady, though, had fallen blissfully asleep. Her insides melted at the sight of her sweet, innocent little guy. She hoped like hell her son’s rough patches in life would be just that—three-inch-square patches, and not acres.

  As she eased her son out of his car seat, Wyatt pulled into the lot. Her heart flip-flopped. What? Was shyness contagious all of a sudden? She lifted her son’s limp form out of the car. He was getting too big for her to carry, and right now he was sweaty from sleep. She straightened, pushed the car door closed with her hip and waited as Wyatt approache
d. “Hi. How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” Wyatt said, his face turning crimson. “I’ll get the door.”

  “Thanks.” What must it be like for him? It’s not like he could control the blushing. “I bought an extension cord. Are you going to be around for a while? I’ll bring your cord downstairs if you are.”

  “Yep. I’ll be around.” He opened the door.

  Brady woke up then and held out his fist the way Wyatt had done to him the day of the fire. Kayla’s heart did another double somersault.

  “Hey, Brady.” Wyatt grinned and fist-bumped her son. “Rough day at the office?”

  Brady nodded, a huge smile on his face. “I can walk, Mommy,” he said with a yawn.

  “Good, because you’re heavy.” She set her son on his own two feet.

  They entered through the back door, and she frowned. An official-looking yellow form had been taped to the inside of the glass. “What’s this?”

  “Looks like the fire marshal issued a citation. The building’s electrical wiring doesn’t meet code, and it’s dangerous.”

  She whipped around to stare at him, dread lodging in her stomach. “Does this mean we’re being evicted?”

  Wyatt let the door swing shut, and then he read the form. “Nope.” He pointed to a section of the citation. “It means the owners have six months to bring the electrical up to code, or our building might be condemned. If that happens, then we will have to move, but these things take months.” He glanced at her. “My company has already sent in a bid to do the work.”

  “Your company? You have a company?” Even through his embarrassment, she glimpsed the pride shining in his eyes.

  “Yes. It’s a family business. Haney & Sons Construction and Handyman Service. We can do just about anything: general contracting, new construction, remodels, plumbing, electrical. You name it; we can do it.” He grabbed Brady under his arms and swung him up the first three steps, climbed to the same step and swung him up again, this time to the landing. Brady giggled, and Wyatt flashed her a heart-melting smile.