by Lake, C. J.
Chapter Six
“Mommy, someone’s at the door!”
“I know, I’m coming,” Emma called from her office, where she’d been typing up some notes on “Robot Rodent Apocalypse,” Alien Notion’s most popular serialized fiction. Now she crossed through the living room, where her two sons were watching TV and stacking LEGOS. She’d meant to straighten up before the contractor got here, but she’d lost track of time. Oh, well. Not like it mattered if the house was a little messy. As she stepped into the foyer, she suddenly noticed the overstuffed laundry basket that she’d forgotten about, which was still sitting by the stairs.
Earlier, Andy had prepped her about the guy from Winter Contracting who was coming to the house, so Emma was confident this would be a quick, to-the-point meeting. She also felt comfortable greeting him in the worn fleece pants she liked to sleep in, and an oversized Boston College sweatshirt that made her look twice her size. Andy had gotten it for her earlier this year when she’d started graduate school.
Before Emma opened the front door, she stuck the pen she’d been carrying in her hair, which was currently tied up in a messy knot.
Ben trotted over to the door. “Who is it?” he asked eagerly.
“Jake,” Emma called to her older son, who was now sitting on the couch, having abandoned the LEGO tower for his new book on magic tricks. “How about you and Ben go upstairs, okay? You can take your book with you and watch TV in my bedroom.”
“Okay,” Jake said and hurried over with his book in hand.
Both boys hopped the steps, and not for the first time, Emma was grateful that they considered watching TV in the “master bedroom” to be a big treat. The key, of course, was to use that leverage sparingly.
When she glanced through the strip of window beside the door, all she could see was a side view of the guy’s upper body. “Who is it?” she called out as an extra precaution.
“I’m with Winter Contracting,” he said.
“Hang on.”
It didn’t hit her that the voice was familiar until one second later--after she’d already swung open the door.
“Oh, my God!”
“Hey, it’s you,” the guy from the hardware store blurted in return. The surprise on his face matched the shock that Emma felt. “I can’t believe this,” he added with a brusque laugh. “You’re Emma?”
“Yes…I…” she mumbled, too flustered and caught off-guard to know what to say.
“This is too crazy,” he said with another incredulous laugh. Though he was quicker to adapt to reality than she was. “Wow, small world. Anyway, I’m Matt. Matt Winter.”
When he extended his hand, Emma shook it awkwardly, as if in a trance. As stunned as she was to see him here, she wasn’t too dazed to notice how warm and strong his hand felt against hers. “But I don’t get it,” she said, stepping back so Matt could come inside. “I thought the man coming tonight was in his forties and married.”
“Um…”
She felt stupid as soon as she’d said it. What a weird comment! It made her sound like she was screening the guy for some personal reason. “I mean, um, Tragan volunteered that fact. Totally of his own accord,” she added, stretching the truth a bit.
“I see,” Matt said simply--though his dark furrowed brows indicated that he really didn’t. “You must mean Bill Thompkins.”
“Yes, I think that was his name.”
“Right, he was set to do the job, but had to cancel at the last minute. Apparently one of his kids is in a talent show and it’s running a few times this week, and--well, I’ll spare you the whole explanation, but long story short, I told him I could probably take the job for him.”
“Probably?” Emma said.
“No, let me clarify,” he said, giving her an easy smile. “I can definitely do the work. It’s just that I have a few things going on right now, so you and I will need to make sure our schedules sync up, that’s all.”
Though Emma nodded along, she was beyond distracted by Matt’s presence. And by the fact that Tragan’s best friend was also the guy from the hardware store! And by the fact that of all the nights to skip hair-combing and wear a muumuu-sweatshirt, she chose tonight! (While she might not be looking to date right now, that didn’t mean she had no sense of vanity.)
Now Matt interrupted her mental rant. “So if you’re hiring me, I guess a trip to the Hardware Warehouse must have scared you straight?”
Inhaling a breath, Emma willed herself to relax, to shed the self-consciousness that was creeping in--that she was allowing to creep in. What was the big deal really? So it was a coincidence. Things like this occurred everyday. If Matt could carry on like normal, so could she. He was here because he had a job to do; Emma needed her mind to cease its silly chaos right now and focus on that.
“By the way, what happened to France?” he asked. There was nothing in Matt’s tone to indicate that he doubted her. If he had called her out on fibbing to him, then Emma would have tried to laugh it off and make a joke about her whole gallivanting-on-the-French-countryside story. But since Matt’s tone of voice and expression were neutral, there was a slight chance he did believe her story, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by admitting it was all a lie.
“It fell through,” she said instead. “The woman who was going to swap houses with me…she, um…caught the French measles at the last minute,” she improvised, hoping Matt wouldn’t have the interest or mindset to ask the difference between French measles and German.
“Oh, sorry to hear that,” he offered. “Tragan mentioned that you’re putting your house on the market soon?”
“Yes, when the renovations are done,” Emma said.
“So…you were going to try to sell the house with that woman living in it?” Matt asked.
“Um…” Clearing her throat, Emma fumbled for a response. “It’s complicated.”
“Ah,” was all he said.
Sucking in a breath, she changed directions. “Well, let’s get back to business.”
She hadn’t meant it to sound so abrupt. But she needed to sweep her lie under the proverbial rug. Also, feeling self-conscious about the way she’d been flirting with Matt at the hardware store, Emma was now determined to reset the tone of their acquaintance. After all, with him working in her house, a flirtatious vibe would cloud things. This would have to be pure professionalism all the way.
“All right,” he agreed and opened up the protective case on the tablet he was carrying. “Show me what you need,” he added, pulling the stylus out of the inside flap. He didn’t bother taking off his jacket, so she had to assume he was taking the hint.
As she turned, she caught sight of her overflowing laundry basket again. Then she swallowed a sigh. Of course. Two pairs of panties were sitting on top of the pile. One was red lace and one was pink cotton--and both seemed to be jumping out for attention. Fighting a sudden impulse to snatch them up and shove them in the bulky front pocket of her sweatshirt, she opted instead to act oblivious.
“I’ll show you the kitchen first since that’s where most of the work will be done,” she said, briskly leading Matt out of the foyer.
“Okay,” he said, following her. “By the way, I’m glad you’re not hiring whoever did that weather-stripping.”
She whipped her head around, surprised. “What?”
Jerking his head toward the front door, Matt said, “That’s a mess. I couldn’t help but notice.”
“Oh…well…” Emma’s cheeks flamed scarlet; her pride wouldn’t let her admit that she had done it herself in one of her DIY delusions.
“Have you noticed a draft?” Matt asked.
“No. Not really a draft,” she insisted. “Just, you know, a feeling of coolness when I’m in the foyer…”
Matt’s eyebrows lifted knowingly. “Also known as a draft,” he said. Helplessly, Emma gave a self-effacing laugh. “I can fix it if you want,” he added. “It’ll save you on your heating bill.”
“Okay, maybe,” Emma replied, not wa
nting to commit yet.
When they reached the kitchen at the back of the house, Emma explained, “So this is where the new floor needs to go.”
Nodding, Matt pressed some buttons on his tablet screen with his stylus. “Right, the engineered wood, I remember.”
“Right, so I already bought the flooring. I just need you to install it.”
Matt gave a quiet chuckle at that. When Emma glanced over, he was grinning at her. “Yeah, the buying is generally the easy part.”
“Oh…well…” she stumbled, still feeling flustered. This was ridiculous. Why was she so nervous?
Suddenly she wished she had showered. Brushed her hair. Or her teeth. Worn a shirt that didn’t resemble a maroon and yellow tarp with a hood.
“I’m kidding,” Matt assured her now. “So what else?”
At this point, Emma told him about the touchless faucets she needed installed in the bathrooms. “Now can you do that? Or should I call a plumber for that?”
“No, I can do it. I’ve done it many times.”
“Well, I think that’s really it.”
“Just the floors and the faucets?” he said, his stylus poised to click on more icons.
“I need to paint in the kitchen,” she explained. “But I’m going to do that myself.” She also planned to install her new light fixture herself, which was why she’d picked up the cordless drill. The video online about light fixture installation didn’t seem all that daunting. Surely she could figure it out.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of the painting? Assuming you want two coats, the painting would only take two days.”
“Yes,” Emma said emphatically, determined to save money and to remain as self-reliant as realistically possible. “I painted my son’s bedroom once. I have no problem doing it myself.”
“All right,” Matt agreed with a shrug. “If you’re sure.” When he finished tapping on his tablet, he closed the case and set his dark brown eyes on her.
Inadvertently, Emma shifted her gaze. “Thanks for doing this on short notice. I’m sure it’s not how you want to spend your Christmas season.”
At that, Matt smiled. “Emma, this is how I spend every Christmas season.” It was the first time he’d said her name and it sounded nice rolling off his tongue like that. The deep timbre of his voice almost made the word sound sexy. “I’m just going to go to my truck and print out the quote.” At the door, Matt paused, then surprised her by mentioning, “By the way, it’s nice to put a face to the voice.”
“W-what?”
“Because we spoke once. On the phone,” he told her. Oh, God, he actually remembered that? She’d been sure he wouldn’t. “But you probably don’t remember,” he added casually.
“Oh…yes, that’s right,” Emma replied, acting nonchalant, as if just recalling it now. Because why even rehash it? Why get personal at all? This was going to be strictly business.
Chapter Seven
“So let me get this straight,” Andy said, moving her cell to the other ear as she took her Starbucks cup from the barista with a smile and adjusted her book bag. “You need me to do what now?”
“Just back up my story,” Emma said. This was after recapping Matt’s visit to the house and also their meeting at the hardware store earlier that week.
“Okay,” Andy agreed reluctantly. “But why on earth did you tell him all that stuff? House swap? French bread? I didn’t know you were so…fanciful.”
With a deprecating scoff, Emma said, “I’m not, believe me. It was just…” Patiently Andy waited while her sister seemed to search for a way to explain. Finally, she sighed and said, “The truth is, I never thought I’d see him again. It seemed harmless at the time. He’d asked me out and since I’d already said I didn’t have a boyfriend, I didn’t want to just turn him down cold. So I made up a little lie.”
Little lie? Andy thought. A little lie was: “I just got out of a relationship and am not ready to date again.” What Emma had come up with was more like a tall tale--and a bizarre one at that. “Wait, I’m still trying to picture this,” Andy said, as she took a seat on a wooden bench in the student center. “So Matt’s shopping, minding his own business, and you walk up and suddenly he’s asking if you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” Emma admitted. “That’s not exactly what happened. We were talking. He was helping me.”
“Then he asked you out?
“Yes.”
“Wow, that’s bold. I’m impressed,” Andy said before taking a sip.
“Well, it was after we…you know, sort of flirted a little.”
Andy nearly choked on her coffee. “What? You flirted with someone?”
“Why’s that such a big deal?” Emma said, sounding a little defensive. “I flirt occasionally.”
“I guess I’ve never seen it, that’s all. You never used to give that guy at Shadow Books the slightest encouragement.”
“Let me clarify,” Emma said, her tone sarcastic now. “I flirt occasionally with men I find appealing. The guy at Shadow Books is ridiculously smothering--not to mention, obsessed with Emily Brontë.”
Suddenly the corners of Andy’s mouth turned up. “So you find Matt appealing then?”
“I…that’s what you took away from that?” Emma said impatiently.
“Yes.”
“Look, I was just trying to have some fun. This cute guy--yes, I admit he’s cute, okay?--was flirting with me, and I wanted to flirt back. Just a little. I didn’t expect to see him again and I definitely wasn’t looking for it to go anywhere.”
With a soft sigh, Andy set her cup down on the bench. “Why not?” she asked, making sure to keep her tone light and non-judgmental. “If you think Matt’s cute, why not go out with him?”
“You know why,” Emma replied. “I’ve already told you this before. I’m not getting involved with anyone--not while the boys are so young. I won’t bring some guy into their lives and have them get attached. And then, eventually, they’ll be crushed. It’s bad enough they have to grow up without their dad; I’m not letting them try to latch onto someone else as a father figure, only to have him let them down at some point.” When Andy didn’t jump in to validate her sister’s negative thinking, Emma added, “Besides, I don’t need the drama of dating, either. I’m happier on my own right now.”
Biting her lower lip, Andy made a choice to hold her tongue. Even though she didn’t agree that Emma was truly “happier” without romance in her life. More like she was safer. Not the same thing.
“The point is: you’ll back up my story about France?”
“I can definitely back up the ‘it’s complicated’ part,” Andy said dryly.
“Andy...” Emma pressed.
“Yes, fine, if he asks me. But this is so ridiculous. Also, Tragan is going to wonder why I never mentioned that my sister was moving to another country.”
“Oh shoot, Tragan! I forgot about him! Is he there? Tell him now he needs to back up my story. Otherwise I’ll look like a ridiculous idiot.”
“No, of course he’s not here. I’m at school! I have class on Thursday nights, remember? In fact…” She hesitated, not wanting to finish her last thought, because she didn’t want Emma to panic. “Oh, never mind.”
“In fact what?” Emma pressed.
“Well…” Andy rolled her eyes, before reluctantly explaining, “It’s just that Tragan is actually with Matt right now. At our apartment--it’s poker night.”
“Oh, no…” Emma groaned. “That means he might have already said something--”
“No, no. I’m sure the subject of you won’t even come up,” Andy said, adding brightly, “Really! No worries, okay?”
Chapter Eight
“So where’s Andy tonight?” Bardo asked as he pulled off his glasses and began polishing them on his shirt.
“She has class on Thursday nights,” Tragan said while he shuffled the deck.
With a nod, Bardo rose from his chair and began a restless lap around the kitchen. “So wha
t’s the food situation tonight?”
“You’re looking at it.”
“Stale chips? You call that a situation?” Bardo said, eying the open bag on the counter with clear disappointment. He gave Matt a look that seemed to beg for sympathy, but Matt just shrugged. “Andy usually makes something,” Bardo pointed out.
“She hasn’t had time to cook lately; she’s got final exams,” Tragan said. “Maybe there are leftovers or something.”
“Man,” Bardo nearly whined, pulling on the refrigerator door, “this is the only place I can get home-cooking. I count on you people.”
Dismissing his complaints, Tragan said, “Yeah, that’s a shame. Now hurry up and sit down. I’m about to deal.”
“Dude, I’m raiding your fridge,” Bardo said with his head ducked all the way in, “a little patience?”
“No time for patience. This is the only night I can play.” Tragan looked around. “Where’s Pellican?”
“Still in the bathroom,” Matt answered.
“He speaks!” Bardo joked, glancing back at Matt. “I thought you’d taken a vow of silence tonight.”
“What’s that mean?” Matt said.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“He’s always quiet,” Tragan said.
Matt didn’t bother arguing. Truthfully, he had been kind of absent tonight. His mind had been wandering ever since he’d left Emma’s house earlier. He still could not wrap his mind around the fact that the hot brunette from the Hardware Warehouse was Andy’s sister. One minute he’s cursing his luck that he’d never see the girl again, never get to take her out, and the next, he’s putting down new floors in her house?
And what he really couldn’t fathom was that she was single.
That is…if she was single. Sure she’d indicated as much at the hardware store--but then, she’d also indicated that she was moving to France to live out some fifty-year-old’s retirement dream, so who knew what to believe?
“What the hell’s taking Pellican so long?” Tragan grumbled.
“Give the guy a break,” Matt commented. “He’s in the bathroom.”