Dale jerked the miter saw so hard he slipped, having to stop himself with his hand on the floor.
“Shit,” he cursed.
“Sorry,” Nyree said as she approached. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
Only his pride. “Nah, I’m good,” Dale said. “You needed something?”
She nodded. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you about this,” she said. “Okay, so I told you about my Aunt Hazel and how she’s the inspiration for this salon and spa, right?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Well, if it’s possible, I’d like to incorporate her old counter and chair into the new business, as something of a memorial to her. I was thinking it could go in the vestibule.”
“I don’t see why not. You’re using the vestibule as the customer check-in, right? It’ll save you from having to build a counter from scratch.”
“My brother is convinced that the chair and counter won’t fit in the space, but I think it’s just that he doesn’t think it will look good there. Granted, it’s pretty beat up and stained, but it was my Aunt Hazel’s. My girlfriends and I used to hang out in her shop everyday after school. We all would really love to have this little piece of her in the new place.”
“I’d have to take a look at it to make sure.”
“It’s in the shed over at my grandmother’s. It’ll only take about twenty minutes to drive to St. Pierre.”
Dale checked his watched. “Give me a few minutes to finish this up.”
“I need to wash up myself,” she said. “My mom just called to remind me that she made the lasagna I’ve been begging her to make for the past two weeks.” She tipped her head to the side. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner,” she said.
He hated lasagna, but he’d be damned if he passed up an invitation to dinner from Nyree.
“Sure. Thanks,” he said.
Dale shook his head. He knew this wasn’t a good idea, but he no longer cared.
Just as he started to pack up his tools, his phone chimed with an incoming text message. It was from Ian Landry, one of his best friends from high school. Dale wasn’t surprised to see that the text was about Sam Stewart, his other best friend.
Meet me at Sam’s? He needs company tonight.
Dale dropped his chin to his chest. Well, there went dinner.
“Shit,” he released an exhausted sigh.
The past eight months had been hell for Sam, but it wasn’t until this past holiday season that it finally hit home.
Sam’s dad was dying.
The realization that this past Christmas was the last one his dad would see had hit Sam particularly hard. To be honest, it hadn’t been easy for Ian and Dale, either. Charlie Stewart had been the cool dad when they were growing up. He’d been the dad who took them all fishing, who let them watch R-rated movies in the little shed he’d fixed up in their backyard before man caves were even a thing, the dad who’d given them all their first sips of beer before they were old enough to drink.
Dale had always had a great relationship with his own father, but it was different from the connection they all had with Charlie. When it came to Martin Chauvin, Dale’s main goal had always been to make him proud. He wanted his dad to look at him and feel honored that he had Dale as a son.
It wasn’t like that with Charlie. He’d never felt the pressure to always be the best or feel as if he had to earn respect. Charlie Stewart just let his boys be boys, and had taken great pride in the young men they’d become.
Watching the once robust man wither away from ALS was one of the hardest things Dale had ever had to witness. Now that the end was near, both he and Ian tried to be there for Sam as much as possible.
He texted Ian back: Give me an hour.
That should be enough time to drive over to St. Pierre and back to Maplesville.
Dale heard footsteps coming down the spiral stairs that led from the kitchen to the upstairs rooms where Nyree planned to live once the renovation was complete. Over the past week she’d brought over a few pieces of furniture, clothes and some toiletries.
She came back into the salon dressed in a pair of weathered jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt.
“Are you ready?” she said.
Dale’s lips tipped up in a grin. “I’m all yours.”
~ ~ ~
Nyree lost count of the number of times she looked back in her rearview mirror at Dale’s pickup truck. Every time their eyes connected his lips would lift in that sexy half smile that had the same effect as lighting a match directly to her blood. The man was driving her insane with his ridiculous levels of hotness.
I’m all yours.
She knew it was just an expression—one that had become a running joke between them. But hearing those words from him yet again—combined with the industrial-strength flirting that had gone on between them over the past five days—had her skin itching with the need to pull over, drag him into her car, and climb aboard those muscular thighs.
This is what happened when one was in the midst of an eight-month drought.
And it wasn’t as if she’d had her world rocked every night even before she and her last boyfriend, Calvin, broke up. Nyree could admit that she and Calvin had not been a good match from the very start. She probably would have broken things off with him long before she did, if it wasn’t for her two older brothers demanding that she stop seeing him. When Desmond and Lance found out that Calvin, a mechanical engineer at the refinery, was ten years older than her, they’d both gone ballistic. She’d kept Calvin around particularly to show those two meatheads that they had no say over whom she dated.
It wasn’t the smartest move, because in the end, she was the one who’d suffered. Calvin’s idea of a good time was going to state parks on the weekends to bird watch. Nyree had nothing against bird watching, but every damn weekend?
And that was nothing compared to how boring he was in the bedroom. As in start-and-finish-before-the-commercials-were-over boring. She didn’t know a single thing about Dale’s bedroom skills, but she’d bet her brand new shipment of therapeutic peppermint oil that he’d last through more than a few commercials.
She glanced in the rearview mirror again and wondered how long she’d have to wait before she got the chance to find out for herself.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she released an irritated groan. She was both confounded and frustrated by the intensity of her attraction to him. Getting involved with anyone, even in a casual relationship, should be the very last thing on her mind right now. Between work, stocking up inventory for her retail shop, and making sure Any Way You Want It was ready for their swiftly approaching grand opening, she didn’t have time to even think about her love life.
Certain parts of her body disagreed. The minute Dale came around her libido lit up like the massive Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.
Most surprising—and unnerving—was how far his appeal went beyond just the physical. Maybe if he’d left just one of the boxes on her list unchecked, the temptation wouldn’t be so incredibly strong. But he didn’t. So far, he’d marked off every single one.
Single. Employed. Respectful. Sense of Humor. Good-looking. And, okay, he deserved three checks for sexy.
That firm-enough-to-bounce-a-quarter-off-of-it ass wasn’t even on her list, but he’d checked that box, too. His huge, broad shoulders and those remarkably solid thighs just added to his overall appeal.
But it was so much more than just his looks. She appreciated that he could hold a conversation about something beyond sports and cars. In fact, he had her rethinking her position on several political issues after the discussion they had yesterday while cutting the holes in the floor for the pipes that would be installed later this week. Dale stimulated her mind as well as her body.
But, my goodness, did he stimulate her body.
Nyree squeezed her thighs together.
“That vibrator’s gonna get a workout tonight,” she muttered under her breath.
S
he’d have to rely on assuaging her needs on her own, because Dale seemed content to stick with the flirting and nothing more. Even though they hadn’t discussed it outright, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them that things remain strictly professional.
Nyree still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She knew it was probably for the best. Both she and Dale needed to focus on the renovation. But, dammit, it’s not as if they worked on the house twenty-four-seven. Why couldn’t there be something more between them during the downtime?
She looked back to make sure he was still behind her and flipped on the turning signal as she approached the graveled driveway of her grandmother’s tiny clapboard house on Paulina Street in St. Pierre. Nyree had lived here, along with her mother and her brothers, since her parent’s divorce back when she was ten years old.
If there was one thing this house never lacked, it was people. Enough places for all those people to sleep? Now that was a different story. With only two bedrooms, Desmond and Lance spent their teenage years flipping coins to see who would get to sleep on the sofa and who had to take the floor.
A couple of years ago, Nyree combined her tax refund and Christmas bonus and bought building materials so that Desmond and Lance could build another bathroom onto the house. When she finally started to turn a profit from her skin and hair care line, she would have her brothers finally remodel the kitchen.
Nyree got out of her SUV and waited for Dale to pull up behind her. She’d called her mom on the drive over to let her know that she was on her way, but would be going straight to the shed behind the house. It was a preemptive move to prevent the conniption fit both her mother and grandmother would have if she came to the house without going inside to say hello first.
She stared as Dale climbed out of his pickup truck, and that persistent case of lust that had been thrumming through her all week ramped up yet again.
This was ridiculous.
Nyree made the decision then and there to go after what she wanted. The whole flirting thing was fun and all, but she wanted more. She refused to spend the next seven weeks existing in this state of pent-up sexual frustration.
They were adults. Just because he was technically working for her, it didn’t mean they couldn’t take the time to explore the obvious attraction they’d both done such a horrible job of trying to fight. She knew exactly what she wanted, and the sooner she stopped beating around the bush, the better.
Nyree folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against her car door.
“Before we look at the chair and counter, I need to get a couple of things out on the table,” she said. She took a deep breath. “First, the work on the house takes precedent over everything else. It has to be operational by the first week in April.”
Dale’s brow dipped with his confused frown. “We’ve covered this already, haven’t we?”
“Yes, but I wanted to make sure it’s understood.”
“April 4th. The date is etched into my brain. In fact, I’ve mapped out a timetable that has me completing the work by the last weekend in March. As long as there are no huge surprises, the house will be ready in plenty of time.”
“Good,” Nyree said with a firm nod as she pushed away from the SUV. She walked over to where he stood, stopping a couple of feet in front of him. She squared her shoulders before she finally spoke. “I’m tired of playing this game we’ve been playing for the past week.”
His frown deepened. “What game is that?”
“The game where we’re both pretending that we don’t want to rip each others’ clothes off at the end of the day,” she said.
She saw the way his chest expanded with the deep breath he sucked in.
“Ah, okay,” he said. “That game.”
“Yeah, that game.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “So, uh, what do you suggest we do instead of playing that game?”
Her mouth curved up in a quick grin. “What do you normally do when you’re attracted to someone?”
He stared at her with hooded eyes. Heat suffused her body with every second that passed.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” she said.
His laugh was strained. “Are you sure about this, Nyree?”
“As long as things remain professional during work hours, I don’t see why it would be a problem. Unless you don’t—”
“Don’t even think it,” Dale said. He swallowed audibly. “I want. Damn, do I want.”
He sauntered up to her and brushed the backs of his fingers along her bare arm. Goosebumps immediately formed on her skin.
“Why don’t you show me the chair and counter, and then we can figure out what kind of things people who are attracted to each other do when they’re together.”
Now she was the one who had a hard time breathing.
Nyree collected as much air in her lungs as she could muster, then motioned for him to follow her to the shed behind the house. It’s where they’d stored everything when they cleared out her aunt’s beauty salon. Reesa had bought a lot of Hazel’s supplies, but the chair and counter were two things Nyree hadn’t been willing to part with.
“Here they are,” Nyree said.
Dale walked around the bright green linoleum counter with the faded black splash mark, courtesy of the bottle of hair dye Nyree had knocked over when she worked reception in her aunt’s shop after school. He ran his hand along the scuffed surface.
“I like the idea of including this,” he said. “With the newness of everything that’s being renovated, this will add some character.”
“And it will be a wonderful tribute to my aunt,” Nyree said. “So you think it can fit in the vestibule without crowding the space?”
“I don’t think this will be too much of a problem. I’ll take some measurements and see where—”
“What’s that asshole doing here?”
Nyree turned to see her oldest brother, Desmond, standing in the shed’s open doorway.
“Desmond Grant?” Dale asked, shock saturating his voice. “What the hell?” His head whipped around to Nyree. “Holy shit. Your last name—”
“Is Grant,” Desmond said. “Same as mine. Now, what the hell are you doing around my little sister?”
Dale blew out a breath. “Shiiit,” he said. “I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together.”
“I can,” Desmond said. “Not many dumb jocks can do simple math.”
“Would you get out of here?” Nyree pushed at Desmond’s chest, but of course it made no difference. The big oaf didn’t move even a centimeter.
She sensed a change in Dale the minute he recognized Desmond. Tension rolled off of him; his jaw was tight with it.
Nyree looked back and forth between the two men. “Hold on,” she said. “How do you two know each other?”
Desmond hooked a thumb toward Dale. “This is the asshole who blindsided me during the homecoming game my senior year. Bastard broke my clavicle.” Desmond rubbed his shoulder area. “But then someone busted up his knee while he was playing college ball.” He smiled snidely at Dale. “That’s called karma. She’s a bitch, ain’t she?”
“I didn’t blindside you,” Dale defended. “If you’d been paying attention to your assignment instead of trash talking, you would have seen me coming.”
Desmond stuck his finger in Dale’s face. “It was a bitch move and you know it, Chauvin.”
“It was a clean hit,” Dale countered, slapping Desmond’s hand away.
Nyree stepped between the two of them, pushing at their heaving chests. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re both talking about something that happened years ago on a high school football field?”
“It was a clean hit,” Dale said again.
“Bitch move,” Desmond spat.
“Would you get out of here!” Nyree yelled at him.
“Not until he tells me why he’s here,” her brother said.
If it was anyone else standing before her, Nyree would feel a
shamed at the devilish thrill that rushed through her, but her brother had been the biggest asshole lately. She would savor this.
She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “I hired Dale to do the renovations on the Whitmer House. He’s been working there for nearly a week already.”
Desmond’s eyes widened as he shook his head with vehement disapproval.
“No way. Forget it,” he said. “You don’t need him to do a damn thing for you. Lance and I will take care of the house.”
“I don’t think so,” Nyree said. She tipped her head to the side. “What did you tell me again? That my product line was just a little ‘hobby’?” she said, making air quotes. “And that it’s your way or the highway when it comes to renovating the house? And that I could wait until you were good and ready to start on it?” She pointed to the door. “Well, guess what? You can take the highway. I’ve got things covered here.”
Desmond’s nostrils flared. His gaze fluctuated from her to Dale before he cursed and turned for the door. Nyree followed, closing the door to the shed behind him.
She turned to find Dale standing with one hand behind his head, kneading his neck.
“So, you’re Desmond and Lance Grant’s little sister.”
“Is that a problem?” Nyree asked.
His brow arched. “You really have to ask that after what just went down in here?”
Nyree put her hands up. “Okay, before you go any further, let’s get one thing straight. Neither Desmond nor Lance have any say whatsoever over any aspect of my life.” She motioned up and down her body. “What you see standing in front of you is a grown woman. Don’t think for even a second that I answer to those two.”
“Something tells me your brothers don’t see it that way.” He pitched his head toward the door. “So, should I expect Lance to show up soon?”
“Probably,” Nyree said. “It’s almost dinner time. I’m sure he’ll be here in a few minutes, because he’s incapable of cooking for himself like an adult.”
“Thanks for the dinner invitation, but it’s probably better if I’m gone by then,” he said.
She folded her arms over her chest. “So, what’s the deal between you and my brothers?”
Any Way You Want It (Moments In Maplesville Book 6) Page 5