“It won’t turn my hair green, will it?”
“I haven’t turned anyone’s hair green since high school,” Nyree said. “I’ll see y’all later. I’m meeting the real estate agent at Whitmer House. We need a special variance since we’re opening a business in a residential neighborhood, so she took care of that for me. And then I need to get at least a few hours sleep before I head in to work.”
“How much longer are you on nights?” Cheyenne asked.
“I still have another week. I’m good with it,” Nyree said, grabbing another sucker from Reesa’s workstation. “I like the nightshift. Means I have to deal with less people walking around the lab.”
“I’ll remember your aversion to people when you try to take over PR for the new biz,” Cheyenne said.
Nyree put both hands up. “Hey, I don’t necessarily like people, but people love me. It’s my sunny personality. Wins them over every time.”
Reesa and Cheyenne both hit her with the eye roll.
Nyree laughed as she draped the rain slicker on and closed the door behind her. But as she made her way back to her SUV, she couldn’t stem the wave of anxiety that began to course through her.
She hadn’t outright lied, but not coming clean about Desmond and Lance no longer doing the work on the house left her feeling as if she had a mixture of nitrous oxide and carbon disulfide in the pit of her stomach. There was so much riding on this new venture. Reesa, Cheyenne and Amara had entrusted her with the fate of their businesses. If she didn’t come through for them, not only were their livelihoods at stake, but so were their lifelong friendships. Friendships that meant everything to her.
“You have to make this happen,” Nyree whispered to herself. There was too much to lose if she didn’t.
~ ~ ~
Dale Chauvin entered through the front door of Chauvin Realty and made a beeline directly for the small break room just to the right of the reception area. He waved to Lily, the new receptionist who’d started at his sister’s busy real estate office a couple of months ago. As usual, she was on the phone.
Dale grabbed a can of soda from the mini fridge. Everyone in the office drank diet, but there were always a couple of cans of sugar-laden caffeine waiting for him. Just one of the ways his big sister, Vanessa, showed her love.
As he headed down the hallway of the suite of offices Vanessa shared with the other two real estate agents in her small but growing realty firm, Dale couldn’t help but marvel at how much things had changed in such a short period of time. For years Vanessa had been the only real estate agent in town, but with the addition of a new outlet mall and a number of national chain retailers and restaurants, Maplesville’s population had soared over the past five years. A few months ago, Vanessa realized she could no longer handle all the business suddenly heading her way on her own.
Yet, despite how busy her clients kept her, she still made time to have lunch with her little brother. They both met at their parents’ home for Sunday dinner every week, but the monthly lunch was a tradition Vanessa had started back when Dale was in college. For the entire four years he attended LSU, she’d drive the hour and a half to Baton Rouge to treat him to lunch every single month, without fail.
Dale rapped on the slightly ajar door and pushed it open, finding his sister reclined in her office chair, a Bluetooth device clipped to her ear. She held up a finger to him as she listened to whoever was speaking on the other end of the line.
Dale leaned back against the wall, planting one steel-toe booted foot on the pale blue wainscoting.
“Yes, I agree. The installation of the sinks should be at the top of the list, along with the partitions for the massage area.” Vanessa paused and listened. “Anyone with a background in construction can do the work you need. I’ll bring you a list of contractors that my clients have worked with in the past. I’m sure one of them can meet your April deadline.”
Vanessa glanced over at him. “Actually, I have someone in mind who is perfect for the job,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the property in fifteen minutes with the paperwork from the zoning commission. Congratulations again, Ms. Grant.”
The moment she ended the call, Vanessa turned her full attention to him. “You ready for lunch?”
“As long as you remember that I’m buying this time,” Dale reminded her. The fight over who would pick up the meal tab was a constant between him and his sister. She usually won, but not today.
Dale gestured to her cellphone. “So, who needs construction work done?”
“A client. I just sold her the old Whitmer House,” Vanessa said.
“That big white house on Silver Oak Drive?”
Vanessa nodded. “I need to swing over there on our way to lunch to drop off this paperwork.” She tapped the sheaf of papers on the desk to straighten them, then slid them into a tan envelope. “The buyer is turning the house into some sort of salon and spa. She needs a contractor to do some renovations. Of course, my first suggestion was Harding Construction, but she said they turned down the job.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dale said. “Harding has been moving away from those smaller jobs. There’s a lot more money in the larger, industrial construction sites.” He rubbed his jaw with the backs of his fingers. “I’d recommend this outfit over in St. Pierre, but the owners are a couple of assholes. I wouldn’t want them to reflect badly on you if they do something to piss your client off.”
“Well, I was thinking maybe you could do the work?” Vanessa said.
Dale stopped in the middle of drinking his Pepsi. He blew out an exhausted sigh. “We’ve been through this already. I’m not licensed to work on my own.”
“Didn’t you just renovate that Robertson man’s bathroom?” she asked. She pushed away from her desk and grabbed her purse, pulling it over her shoulder.
“I changed out a sink and patched up a doorknob-size hole in the wall for Lowell Robertson.”
“And look what came of it. Not only are you tutoring his kid in football, but didn’t you tell me that he’s interested in investing in your general contracting business—if you ever get it off the ground, that is. Seriously, Dale, why are you dragging your feet on this?”
“I’m not.” God, he was tired of this conversation. “There’s twenty-four hours in a day.” Dale ticked items off on his fingers. “I have a fulltime job, I have the training sessions with Kendrick, Ian and I are dealing with Sam and his dad, and I do try to get at least a few hours of sleep. When am I supposed to start up a general contractor business all on my own?”
His sister folded her arms over her chest. “You could have come up with a business plan in these last few minutes you’ve spent explaining all the reasons why you can’t do it. And I thought you said you wanted to cut back on some of your hours with Harding?”
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed as she took a couple of steps toward him. Dale towered over her, but he could feel himself shrinking under her knowing stare.
“What are you so afraid of?” she asked.
He jerked back as if she’d plucked him in the middle of his forehead—something she used to do when he was a kid.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A legitimate one. You’ve been working construction for Webster Harding for nearly five years, when you should be doing it for yourself. Put that business degree to work.”
Dale instantly felt his shoulders tense at the mention of his degree. A muscle twitched in his cheek.
“You said it yourself,” Vanessa continued. “Harding isn’t taking on smaller jobs anymore. Someone needs to fill that gap. This is the perfect time for you to branch out on your own, Dale.”
When he continued to stare at her without saying anything, Vanessa threw her hands up in frustration.
“You can at least take a look at what needs to be done on the house. Who knows, maybe I’m giving you too much credit. The job probably is more than you can handle.”
Dale huffed out a laugh. “That reverse psychology stuff stopped workin
g on me years ago.”
“Really? Crap,” Vanessa said, her mouth scrunching up in a chagrinned smile.
“Come on,” Dale said, “If we have to stop at the Whitmer House before lunch we need to get going. I have a training session with Kendrick after school lets out.”
“We’ll eat some place around here instead of going to Emile’s over in Gauthier,” she said.
“I’m paying,” Dale reminded her.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
She pointed her finger up at him. “Stop being a little shit.”
“Stop being a big bully,” Dale returned.
He was tempted to bring out his favorite you’re not the boss of me line. He hadn’t used that one on her in a while. Being ten years older, Vanessa had always been the boss of him, even though she was a solid foot shorter. She’d also been his biggest champion and the kind of big sister who spoiled her little brother rotten.
And she had way more confidence in him than one person should.
“And you are going to take this job,” she said. “My client needs a contractor and you need to use this as a way to show Lowell Robertson that he’s making a good investment.”
Dale dropped his shoulders and pitched his head back, releasing a dramatic sigh. When he looked at her again, he saw the determination in his sister’s eyes, and he knew he’d lost this round.
He tossed his soda can in the blue recycle bin next to the door. “Can I at least drive?” he asked.
“No,” Vanessa tossed over her shoulder as they left the office.
The Whitmer House was located in the older part of Maplesville—the downtown area that was currently in the midst of a resurgence now that long-time residents were no longer impressed with the strip malls, outlets and high-rise condominiums that had taken over on the outskirts of town.
Dale liked that the downtown area was getting more attention these days, but in his opinion city leaders had gone too far with the Welcome to Mayberry vibe. New ordinances prevented residents and businesses from adding anything that community leaders felt took away from the historic, small-town appeal. It had made for a pain in the ass when it came to finding authentic woodwork for the law office he and a couple of his buddies had renovated as a side job over on Birch Street a few months ago.
“So, any news on the girlfriend front?” Vanessa asked.
Dale frowned at her. “Why are you all up in my business today?”
“Because that’s my job. Now answer the question.”
He snorted. “As if I would tell you.” Dale turned the Volvo’s radio station from Lite Rock to NPR. Vanessa changed it right back.
“What about the girl you were seeing back at Christmas? The one with the pretty teeth. What was her name? Kathy? Casey?”
“Her name was Courtney, and I wasn’t ‘seeing’ her,” Dale said. He lowered the volume on a Billy Joel song. “We went on one date.”
“You brought her to the big tree lighting ceremony. In Mama’s book that means you’re practically engaged. I’m sure she’s already told the entire Ladies Auxiliary that a wedding is just around the corner.”
“God.” Dale dropped his head back on the headrest.
A couple of minutes later, Vanessa pulled up to the curb of Silver Oak Drive, in front of the stately two-story home that had belonged to the Whitmer Family for generations. This current generation obviously didn’t share the nostalgia of their forefathers. None of them cared enough about the old house to keep it in the family.
Dale had always liked this house, but he hadn’t given it more than a quick glance while driving by over the past couple of years. The structure’s exterior was still in pretty good shape, but there were patches of green and black mold that could use a blast with the pressure-washer.
“Oh, good, she made it here already,” Vanessa said.
Dale spotted a black crossover SUV parked in the driveway, close to the side entrance. That’s also when he spotted the woman standing next to one of the columns on the colonnade that wrapped around the house. She had a headful of springy curls and wore blue hospital scrubs.
How had he missed her standing there?
Well, the fact that she couldn’t be more than five-feet could explain why he hadn’t noticed her at first glance, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in curves that were just subtle enough to make things interesting.
She started down the walkway, still wet from the earlier rain shower that had passed through town.
By way of greeting, Vanessa handed her the tan envelope that she’d brought from her office. “You can now legally run a salon out of this property.”
“Thank you so much.” She held the envelope to her chest like a kid clutching the toy she’s been begging for all year long.
She was pretty cute. Okay, she was a lot cute.
And those curves weren’t as subtle as Dale first thought. Despite her boxy clothing, he could make out a classic hourglass figure, with a chest in perfect proportion to her hips. Even so, she couldn’t weigh more than a buck ten soaking wet.
At six-three and a bowl of pasta shy of two-hundred fifty pounds, Dale didn’t usually gravitate toward delicate, petite women. They seemed too breakable. But delicate looked pretty nice on this one.
She turned her attention from Vanessa and set the most vibrant amber eyes on him.
“Hello,” she said.
“Oh, sorry. This is my brother, Dale Chauvin,” Vanessa said before he could speak. “Dale, this is Nyree Grant, the new owner of this lovely home. Dale works construction,” Vanessa quickly added.
“Really?” Nyree’s amber eyes widened to Bambi proportions.
Holy shit! He wasn’t ready for the impact those eyes would have on him. She really was cute as hell.
“Yes, I do,” Dale answered. “But—”
“He does excellent work,” Vanessa continued. “Maybe we can do a quick walk-through and you can show Dale what needs to be done to the house?”
Dale cast a frustrated glare at Vanessa. She ignored it. Typical. That persistence and tenacity were what made his sister so good at her job, but he hated when she used it on him.
Vanessa started toward the house, but her client didn’t follow. Nyree remained standing on the walkway. She crossed her arms, essentially creating a shelf for her breasts. Her very nice breasts. Dale couldn’t help but stare. Her hospital scrubs had a V-shaped neckline. With her short frame, it revealed the most intriguing shadow between her cleavage.
He looked up to find one well-shaped brow pointed upwards.
“Are you done looking?” she asked.
“Not really,” he answered without thinking. “I mean…” Dale’s voice faded away when she turned and started for the front door.
Okay. It’s a good thing he wasn’t really trying to win this construction job, because if he had been he’d just knocked himself out of contention. Ogling your potential boss’s breasts was at the top of the Don’t Do This list.
He tried not to look at her ass as he followed her, but it drew in his gaze as if she had magnets in her back pockets. The hospital scrubs’ lightweight material pulled deliciously taut across her backside. It could not be any more perfect.
When they met up with Vanessa at the home’s double-door entrance, his sister’s brow dipped ominously as she stared at him with a disapproving frown.
“Cut it out,” she mouthed.
Dale raised his hands in a I didn’t do anything pose, which was mostly true. Sure, her client caught him staring at her chest, but in the grand scheme of things…
Dale trailed a couple of feet behind the women as they walked through the house, talking about the various tasks that would need to be done before the place was operational. From the sound of it, this business Nyree planned to open was way more than just your normal salon. The setup she described included a retail area downstairs, as well as a place upstairs to perform holistic massage therapy—whatever the hell that was.
“And yo
u’re still planning to move in, right?” Vanessa asked.
Nyree nodded. “I have a few months remaining on my apartment lease, which should give me time to gradually move my things in upstairs.”
“You’re planning to live here and run a business out of this place?” Dale asked, speaking for the first time since they entered the house.
“Actually, there will be several businesses,” she said. “Me and my three best friends from high school are combining our businesses into a one-stop salon and spa.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Hair, massage, makeup and a storefront for my line of hair and skincare products. And, yeah, I plan to live here too.”
Vanessa spoke. “The layout of the house is actually perfect for it. There’s a hallway separating the upstairs parlor and two bedrooms, and a service stairway that leads directly to the kitchen. The house can be filled with customers and Nyree would never have to worry about running into any of them.”
“Of course, there’s a lot that needs to happen before we can get any customers in here,” Nyree said. “And finding a contractor to do the work has been the biggest pain in the ass ever.”
Vanessa turned to him. “Which is why I brought—” she started, but then her phone rang. She glanced at the smart watch on her wrist. “Excuse me, but I need to take this,” she said before stepping into the hallway.
Dale stood in the center of the room with his hands on his hips and a dozen thoughts muddling around in his brain. He shouldn’t care one way or the other what type of renovations needed to be done to this place. He wasn’t licensed to do the work.
“You said you want to put in three sinks for shampooing down here, along with a couple of those chairs they have in nail salons, right?” Dale asked, despite the fact that he definitely was not doing the work on this house.
“Pedicure chairs,” Nyree answered with a nod. “But those will be in Amara’s space over on the left side of the house—she’s the makeup artist,” she explained. “She doesn’t do the actual manicures and pedicures; she has a girl who works with her. Not that you care about any of that,” she said with a nervous laugh.
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