Sorry because she knew how much work he had to do. A WLR General Contracting and Development truck had been in the parking lot every day this week when she’d arrived for work. And she showed up early. That truck hadn’t left until after six o’clock each night, during Kenzie’s break before her night classes began at seven. Sometimes another truck or two showed up during the day.
Will’s crew had unloaded materials to install the new ducts for Angel House, a seemingly monumental task considering the size of the building.
He waved a dismissive hand. “No, you didn’t make it sound urgent. You told me to come whenever it was convenient.”
“Then if it’s convenient for you, it works for me.”
“I wouldn’t go right to convenient.” Kneeling, he unlatched the toolbox and glanced over his shoulder at her with a wry expression. “That outlet you said you needed in the new wall is already there.”
Now it was her turn to frown. “Then why are you here? To bring me a map so I can find it because it must be invisible?”
With the sun fading beyond the windows and the overhead lights off inside, Will’s grin flashed white in the dim interior. “It is invisible. Unless you have x-ray vision.”
“Which you apparently have.”
“No. What I have is an idiot drywaller. He’s new and young. The nephew of one of my subcontractors, who happens to be a good friend and the guy who got me started in this business a million years ago.”
She nodded, waiting for him to pull the pieces together, enjoying the sight of him huddled over his toolbox, the jacket stretching across his broad back, the lines of his pants pulling up on strong thighs.
Jeez, she was one hot mess.
“The minute I read your message, I knew what he did.” Will grabbed his toolbox and stood. She was back to staring up at him again as he gestured to the door. “Mind if I go back?”
She pushed away from the doorway and swept an arm toward the hall beyond. “Please.”
He took off toward the rear mediation room, one of the two that were up and running, along a path he knew very well by now, leaving her to follow if she chose.
Kenzie did. “So what did he do?” she asked, hurrying along behind him.
He glanced at her with an expression that clearly wasn’t thrilled. “Kid got some training in high school but doesn’t have any work experience, except for the jobs he’s been on with Bob. But Bob’s on a job with liability concerns right now, so I’m letting the kid help out so he can learn his way around a construction site. Thought I could trust him to hang drywall if he was supervised by my electrician, who does have experience and lots of it. I was wrong.”
Oh, yes. There was absolutely no missing his irritation. It was all over his scowling expression. Seeping in his voice. But she liked that he helped out his friend. That said something nice about him. That he cared.
Ambitious charmer? Bullying ex-husband? Caring dad? Concerned friend? Attractive man she should not be so aware of. No wonder her head was spinning. “I appreciate you rushing over. I figured I’d make do with a new surge strip and an extension cord.”
He came to such a sudden stop that Kenzie almost crashed into him. Glancing up automatically, she found herself so close she had to crane her head back to meet his gaze.
“Exposed electrical wires under your drywall? Not a good idea.”
“Oh.” How did one tiny exclamation sound so breathless?
Because the view from this vantage stole her breath? His face seemed a bit disjointed as she got an up-close shot of individual features. The faintly stubbly cheeks. The chiseled angle of his jaw. The mouth that suddenly looked so soft and full with his lips slightly parted... Kenzie mentally shaking herself. She was the idiot here. Right along with the drywaller.
Then he flipped on the light and the moment was over.
“Won’t take long.” He strode across the room to the wall separating her from Angel House. “I brought another outlet cover, too, so you’ll be all set.”
He crouched and ran his hand along the lower wall.
“I appreciate this, Will. I would have had to rig something with an extension cord for tomorrow’s meetings because leaving the room during a session really isn’t an option.”
That admission appeared to catch his attention because he stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. “People argue?”
With two divorces behind him, Will likely understood the process pretty well himself.
“Let’s just say leaving the room leaves too much out of my control. Couples are here to collaborate, but divorce is generally emotional. A few unguided moments can undo all my hard work.” And cause her even more work to get a couple back on track.
“Sounds like mediation takes some doing.”
“It’s an art form. Definitely.”
He smiled at that then went back to running his hand along the wall. She did appreciate Will’s timing because she hoped to conclude negotiations with one of her couples here in the morning, which meant lots of printing. Doctor and Mrs. Tagliara had been married fifteen years and were successfully dividing assets and properties between them to move on with their lives.
They had four minor children, but Dr. Tagliara had demonstrated an understanding that as primary breadwinner, he was responsible to his wife to continue the support until their children were raised and she could reenter the workforce.
Sadly, not all men were so conscientious and not all couples were willing to collaborate, despite their choice to work with Positive Partings. The Spencers were a case in point.
While Kenzie would be in session with the Tagliaras, she had scheduled Lou to review preliminary information in the other mediation room with the Spencers. He wanted to collaborate. She wanted to make him suffer for initiating the divorce.
Kenzie had some work to do there.
“Here we are.” Will gave the wall a solid pat. “Right where it’s supposed to be.”
He opened the toolbox then stood to shrug out of his jacket.
She quickly covered the distance and helped him pull out of the sleeves. “Let me.”
“Thanks.”
Smoothing the lines of the silky fabric, she hung the jacket on the back of a chair so it wouldn’t wrinkle. He didn’t seem to care, but she did. Like an idiot. Because she stood there feeling all sparkly inside. A complete idiot.
Will cut away the drywall with a utility knife to reveal the electrical receptacle hidden beneath.
“Wow,” she said to distract herself from everything going on inside her.
She had the tools to rein in her emotions, to make constructive choices, but keeping them under control proved a struggle. Was there really any wonder why her classes were always full?
He set the chunk of drywall aside. “I’d like to say stupid things like this don’t ever happen, but I’d be lying. Sorry is about all I can say.”
“I’m just glad you realized what happened. It wasn’t really noticeable.” A thought occurred to her. “How did you know, Will?”
“I know where the outlets go, Kenzie,” he said wryly. “You said it wasn’t there, and it should be. Simple. I oversee the work my people do. That’s my job.”
When he wasn’t actually doing the work himself, which he did a lot. She kept that to herself, but she knew this sort of work ethic intimately, the kind her parents would approve of.
“Well, I appreciate you doing your job so thoroughly and taking care of the problem.” Before the bui
lding burned down or whatever happened when live wires were exposed under the drywall.
“I suppose if this is the worst obstacle we face, then I shouldn’t complain.” He appeared to be checking wires, making sure everything was in order.
“So how’s Sam?” she asked.
“An okay day, from what Guadalupe tells me. Haven’t seen him since I dropped him off this morning.”
“Who’s Guadalupe?”
“Sam’s sitter. His Spanish nanny. If he ever finds his words, I’m hoping he’ll be bilingual.” The comment was lighthearted, but there was so much in there.
Finds his words. Did that mean Sam didn’t speak at all? He certainly hadn’t spoken during their time together. She’d noticed, hadn’t been sure if he’d just been quiet because he’d been around a new person.
She hadn’t asked. Wouldn’t.
But she remembered Sam, the energetic child who had spun circles in the dance studio to get the wiggles out, as Will had called it, until most people would have fallen on their faces with dizziness or motion sickness.
Sam had really seemed to enjoy the open space to move around unhindered.
A born dancer, Madame Estelle would have noticed and encouraged his interest. She was always on the lookout for boys to study dance because there were never enough for the male roles in theatrical performances.
She wondered what Will would have thought of that. She’d had friends whose fathers wouldn’t consider letting their sons dance. Nathanial’s had been one of them. Pop Wright had very clear boundaries about what constituted acceptable male and female activities. Nathanial had broken his arm in the third grade, and Pop Wright had exercised executive privilege and vetoed a pink cast.
Kenzie supposed Will had a different yardstick for what comprised normal childhood activities. Computer games and spinning were two that she knew of. And ball in the park. Then again, maybe not so different after all.
He lived such a challenging situation, and without help from Sam’s mother. Why? Sam’s mother had seemed so genuine in her determination to keep him, and Kenzie was usually a fair judge of character—an essential tool in her work. There was so much more to this story than she knew.
The mystery of this man continued to deepen. As if the waters weren’t muddy enough with her crazy awareness of him, the newfound knowledge that he was a dad raising Sam alone made it harder for her to remember her initial reservations about him.
That must be hard as a single parent. Tough enough for a mother. What about a father who wasn’t inherently wired to nurture and think for everyone around him?
Yet when she thought of Will with his son...in the park playing ball, during dinner made up of party leftovers, directing him from computer games to pirouettes in the studio, Kenzie melted at the sight of this big, oh, so masculine man and his charming smiles and gentle ways.
“Damn it.” Will growled. The plate fell off with a clatter. A screw skittered over the newly refinished floor and he lunged for it before it could get away.
“May I help?” She hurried over. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the trouble was.
Big man with big hands. Teeny-tiny screw.
However, she did question why she’d instinctively assumed that a general contractor would need her help to screw on an outlet cover. But before she could come up with an answer she was willing to live with, Kenzie had reached him and was scooting down at his direction. She accepted the screw he dropped into her hand. They crouched close together, as if trying to occupy the very same space to tackle this daunting job.
He lined up the cover plate over the receptacle. “If you can get the screw in there and aligned, I’ll do the rest.”
His voice sounded throatier with their heads bent close, so close she might have rested hers against his shoulder.
She’d never had trouble with fine motor skills, but suddenly Kenzie’s efforts felt heavy-handed and forced as if accomplishing the task was cause for breathless anticipation.
Coaxing the screw into the small hole, she swiveled it gently to find the groove. “There.”
His motions were so much surer as he pressed the plate against the wall and twisted the screwdriver a few times.
“There you are. Thanks.” His words hummed through her, a trick of proximity, because their thighs were nearly aligned.
She could sense the warmth of his body through this barest touch. Or maybe that was simply her imagination. But the gaze he fixed on her, clear as crystal and equally direct, suggested she wasn’t the only one to notice their proximity.
“Excuse me,” said a voice as cool as springwater. A familiar voice that prompted Kenzie to tear her gaze away.
Nathanial. His greeting was her first clue something wasn’t right. Her second was when she looked at him. Distance shielded his expression, was evident all over his handsome face.
“Nathanial.” She sprang to her feet, suddenly jumpy and swamped with guilt as if she’d been caught red-handed.
She had been caught, a tiny voice inside chided. Caught in the throes of guilty pleasure, being aware of another man and reacting—didn’t matter that it was against her will—in a way that was all excitement and inner child. So opposite from the steady slow burn of her adult relationship with Nathanial. Whether or not they were currently together.
“You remember Will Russell?” she managed to say while crossing the distance between them and kissing Nathanial’s cool cheek in greeting.
“I remember,” Nathanial said. “Our newest councilman.”
Kenzie could tell he wasn’t sure what he’d walked in on and did not like what he’d seen one bit. She knew him so well.
Will stood and crossed the distance, too, extending his hand. “Hey,” was all he said, but his unsmiling expression seemed to emphasize his point about needing a bell on the door because anyone could just stroll in off the street.
Kenzie wasn’t sure why she had that impression, when she didn’t know Will at all. But suddenly she felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room as she stood sandwiched between these two men, both dressed to the nines in their pricey suits. The moment became surreal.
Somehow Will managed to dwarf Nathanial, who was a pretty sizeable man. But Will’s raw masculinity cast Nathanial’s polished good looks in such a different light.
Nathanial was all goldenly handsome and always impeccably dressed. Will was quite the opposite with his glossy hair and five o’clock shadow, not even able to make a full day without stubble darkening where dimples should have been.
Day and night.
And such a fanciful thought for a woman unused to being fanciful. She was losing her mind, Kenzie decided. The haste of this move had finally robbed her of judgment. But why? She’d never had trouble with stress or pressure before. Her healthy coping skills always saw her through in the end.
“Will came by to deal with my outlet issue.” She explained, when the explanation was obvious, given the tools on the floor beside a hunk of drywall.
“And I still need to deal with the ceiling tiles.” Will fixed that clear gaze on her with all his attention, as if Nathanial wasn’t even there. “I’ll be replacing them myself. What nights are you having classes next week?”
The question was completely innocuous, entirely practical on every level, but Kenzie wished Will had chosen any other time to ask. “Monday through Wednesday. Nothing scheduled for Thursday and Friday.”
“Then I’ll see if I ca
n get by to work on the empty classrooms Monday through Wednesday and save the big classroom for Thursday and Friday,” he said, moving toward the chair where his jacket hung. “Probably take me two nights in there. Work for you?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling up at Nathanial, who arched an eyebrow, assuring her he hadn’t missed how flustered she was and was curious about why.
Will Russell.
The only answer to that question. Darn man.
Just the act of getting his jacket implied he’d taken it off and that came attached with all sorts of implications that had nothing to do with reality. But Kenzie didn’t seem to be dealing in reality right now. She was dealing in adrenaline, a physical response to turmoil that was entirely internal.
Will tossed his jacket over his shoulder, retrieved his tools, then flashed that grin at her. “See you around.”
Then he inclined his head at Nathanial. “Wright.”
“Russell,” Nathanial replied.
“I’ll lock the door on my way out,” Will said, then he was gone, leaving Kenzie staring after him, alone with her dear Nathanial and no longer able to deny her stupid reactions were getting entirely out of hand.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WILL LOCKED THE door to Kenzie’s place and stepped into the night. A car drove past, tires chewing up the road as it sped too fast down Main Street. The porch light cast a glow into the twilight, onto the shingle that read Positive Partings.
A misnomer, he decided, because there was nothing positive about the way he was parting right now.
Inhaling deeply, he allowed the brisk air to cool his agitation from the encounter that had made him bristle. What was it about Nathanial Wright that rubbed Will the wrong way?
He didn’t like the answer. He didn’t like it on so many levels that he bristled some more.
Bypassing the door that led from the parking lot into Angel House, Will went to his truck. He couldn’t bring himself to go in tonight. Just the thought of work heightened his agitation.
Right from the Start Page 12