by Jennie Jones
“I’m fixing myself a noose,” she told his answer service. “It’s got a secure knot and it’s for you. Twenty thousand, Jason.” Twenty grand with her name on it. “We need to talk about the money.” Even if he was using it to finance his sisters’ education, surely they could come to some deal where Molly would get some of her money back? That wasn’t greediness, it was business.
She pressed End Call with a satisfied thump of her forefinger.
A shadow passed over her head and shoulders and landed on the earth in front of her. She spun round. She hadn’t heard anyone and she half expected to see the ghostly specter of her great grandfather—but it was Saul.
“Oh... hi.” Had he heard her ranting on the phone? “Just finalizing a deal,” she said, and pocketed the cell.
“You do that with a noose?”
Molly laughed it off. “I found your sat. It’s on the kitchen counter.”
“Thanks.” He turned and headed for the hacienda.
“Couldn’t get a construction calculator. Sorry.”
“Okay,” he said without looking back.
Molly had to skip to reach him. He was striding, not rushing, but he had such damned long legs. “So, I’ve got our dinners.”
“Good,” he said, still not looking at her.
She followed him into the blue-tinted kitchen. When the sun shone high in the picture-perfect blue sky, it hit the canvas she’d strapped in place as a ceiling and made the space more like an ice-tainted igloo than a hot Texas kitchen. Maybe she’d get all her candles out tonight, so they could turn off the fluorescents.
He picked up his sat phone and checked it. Then pocketed it and glanced at Molly. “Did you call anyone about that crane?”
Molly brushed a hand over her mouth, hoping it would swipe away the sudden worry. “Forgot.”
“We’re not going to make fast headway without one.”
She was aware of that, and after chatting to Mr. Birling’s answer service, she wasn’t in the mood for glib responses. “Neither are we going to make much headway without your equipment. What about your tool? Are you going to show it to me?”
A smile brightened his expression. “Sure you want to see it?”
“Is it so useful it’s too precious to get out?”
He laughed.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Although...” His laughter faded to a smile as he moved closer. “Maybe I will let you take a peek one day,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. “And by the way, I forgot to tell you—I like your hair this way much better than with all those hanging ringlets.”
Molly swallowed, astonished that she’d produced this tender—albeit amused—reaction out of him. What had she said to make him so friendly? “It’s just hair.”
“Well, if you don’t want compliments,” he said, obviously recovered from his amusement, “I won’t give you another.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want them. She hadn’t expected one. Especially not from the sexy contractor. She gave him the finger. Men.
He took a step back. “You’re not easy to get along with. Anyone told you that before?”
Only Jason. Not that his opinion should count or even matter, but she’d been hit hard by shock and rejection, and it stung and hung around a lot longer than those who hadn’t had a taste of it might expect.
Molly picked up the bread knife and pulled the boxed Hopeless sponge toward her. “Fancy some cake?” she asked with a smile. She had to be sweet-as-honeysuckle in order to get the roof built—and she’d nearly forgotten.
“Go easy on it,” he said, and stepped behind her as she opened the thin cardboard flaps and attacked the chocolate sponge. “You’re supposed to slice into it not massacre it.” He put his hand on hers, as though to take the knife off her and Molly shoved him with her elbow, but she’d shoved him with the knife still halfway through the sponge and now the triangle she’d intended to cut was squashed and—“Damn.”
He moved quickly, grabbed a clean cloth off a pile Molly had folded earlier that morning, and ran it under the cold water tap at the sink.
Molly was still staring at the cake and the mess her bloodied thumb had created.
“Here.” Saul took the knife, put it down, then lifted her hand, keeping it in his as he wiped the blood from her thumb.
“You made me spoil your cake,” she said, glancing at the bright blood sitting on top of the cream topping. “Although I could probably just cut that bit out. The rest will be okay.”
“Don’t worry about the cake.” He inspected the cut and must have decided it wasn’t so bad. “We’ll get you a Band-Aid and you’ll be fine.”
She hoped he wasn’t this casual if she fell off the roof and broke her legs. She could almost hear him. “Just lie still while I get this roof fixed, then we’ll call an ambulance.”
He opened the first-aid box she’d placed on a hook on the wall, got out a Band-Aid and wrapped it around her thumb.
She watched, waiting for him to step back when he’d finished, but he didn’t. After a beat, she looked up at him.
Their eyes met and their gazes held. The hot intensity from Saul’s focus pinned her to the spot. A second, no longer, but enough time for Molly to see a thought move from his brain to his features—and then the light in his eyes deepened to a dusky blue. A moment later he was dipping his head and their mouths were touching. Just like that. Both pressed a little firmer but it was still a gentle kiss. So gentle it might have been termed tender and tender wasn’t something she’d had a lot of recently.
Then they stopped kissing and Molly endured another long gaze into his eyes. Possibly a whole five seconds. Enough time for her stomach to tumble in a delightful spin before he pulled away.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “But I suppose it was bound to happen.”
It was?
She shrugged in a so-what manner. “It was just a short, sweet kiss.”
“Sweet?” His eyes narrowed as he gauged her, and the corner of the firm mouth she’d just had her lips on curved in a smile.
She flushed as a burst of heat and pleasure rushed through her. As though she’d just swallowed heaven.
“Warm today, huh?” she said, fanning her face.
“It did get a bit hot there for a couple of seconds,” he answered, his mouth still in a sexy tilt. “So—roast brisket and garlic asparagus for dinner? Why don’t I take charge? Since you’re not that handy with knives.
“No way. I’ve got to be boss of something.” If she let him, he’d take over her entire life. “I’ll sort dinner out. You go and measure something. Or go sharpen your tool.”
His laugh had a wicked edge to it. “It got pretty sharp a minute ago, actually.”
She stared at him, trying to figure out what he meant. It definitely wasn’t a weapon. The man handed out paper napkins and plates at breakfast, and waited for his boss to sit before he did. It might be a ratchet. That would be pretty useless for building a roof though, unless he had to connect one thing to another. Maybe it was a fancy screwing tool. “Am I going to see it sometime soon?”
His smile faded and his eyes darkened to that dusky-blue again.
Molly’s legs trembled. For a second she was tempted to walk into his arms, and was pretty sure he might be considering pulling her into his embrace.
What was this? She wasn’t right for him. They didn’t fit, so why had they kissed? A moment of compulsion? And why were they still staring at each other?
She dragged herself away, turning so he couldn’t see her eyes. She wasn’t sure what they might be showing. “I’m going to the lodge house. I have to make a call,” she said.
“For a crane?”
“For advice.”
“On what?”
Him! Everything. “Just stuff.
Chapter Nine
Since Molly needed advice, and her cousins weren’t likely to come home even if she begged them, the next best thing was calling them.
“Wha
t’s happened?” Pepper asked.
“Have you got engaged again?” Lauren said sarcastically.
“Keep your voices down,” Molly hissed. Amazingly, her cousins had both answered the conference call at the same time. Molly had them on speaker with the volume turned low. Her bedroom door was closed but her contractor was around.
“What’s up?” Pepper asked again, in a loud stage whisper.
“I need advice.”
“You think we’re going to give it to you?” Lauren said. “After not telling us you were engaged?”
“I wouldn’t believe anything she says,” Pepper said. “Not anymore.”
Molly winced. “Am I ever going to be forgiven for not telling you?” she asked. “Or is this lifelong baggage I have to carry around?”
“Lifelong,” her cousin said, using her Lauren-the-eldest voice.
“I didn’t even get to buy a new dress for the wedding,” Pepper complained.
“Sorry.” The way Pepper was working at the moment, kickstarting a homemade gourmet food business, she never got time for social interaction. Plus, she hadn’t had a boyfriend in so long, but nobody mentioned that. “I apologize to both of you,” she added, putting as much penance into her words as possible.
“It’s so much fun torturing one’s cousin.” Lauren said on a cheery laugh. “Why didn’t we think of this before?”
“You’ve both been torturing me for the entire month I’ve been home!” Molly exclaimed, forgetting about keeping her voice lowered.
“Because what we don’t understand,” Lauren said, “is why you kept the thing such a secret from us. We tell each other everything.”
“Oh, really,” Molly said. “So tell us about your lover-cum-business-partner. What’s going on?”
“That’s different—and he’s not my lover.”
“Lover?” Pepper asked. “I thought he was your business partner.”
“He’s not my lover!” Lauren said. “It’s your man we’re discussing, Molly. You made the wrong choice, and if I’d known about it, I would have told you so.”
“Just because you’re one week older than me, Lauren Mackillop, doesn’t mean you can use your additional experience of the world to shower me with your superior knowledge of men,” Molly responded.
“How come Molly knew about your lover, and I didn’t?” Pepper complained.
“Because you’re one week than younger than me,” Molly said. “It takes months for information to dwindle down to you.”
“He’s not my lover!” Lauren exclaimed. “Now let’s get back to the issue at hand. Molly’s lies.”
“I didn’t tell you about the thing,” Molly said as patiently as she could, “because he’d find out about the spookiness and that would have been that. I’d have been an ex nearly Mrs. Birling, desperate and destitute within the hour.”
“Which is exactly what you are as it turns out,” Pepper said.
“We could have fixed him,” Lauren said. “Scattered spells on him or something. Or at least told him we could do that.”
“But then he would have known I’m as crazy as my whole family,” Molly said.
“I do not consider myself crazy.”
“I confess I have days,” said Pepper.
“For the last time, I apologize for being a liar.”
“Oh, get over yourself,” Lauren said. “We love you.”
“I think it’s wise not to love anybody,” Pepper said. “So from hereon in you can both consider yourselves unloved by me.”
“Can I speak now?” Molly asked, glad that they’d got the conversation about the thing over and done with.
“I knew you’d call,” Lauren said.
“How come?”
“I spoke to Marie. So you’re getting a roof?”
“When did you talk to Momma?”
“The other day. I put a client of mine in touch with her. She needs a speciality updo for a charity event she’s attending with her family in Lubbock.”
The other day? Before Alice had said there was a stranger coming? That was odd. Perhaps Momma had believed someone would answer Molly’s ad all along.
“How exciting,” Pepper said. “A roof. Hope it stays on this time.”
“I get the impression things aren’t going to be straightforward,” Lauren advised. “Marie said you’d be getting a roof—and whole lot more.”
“Of what?” Molly asked.
“No idea. Presumed that was the reason for this unexpected call.”
“No,” Molly said, frowning. “I just wanted advice.” But she’d completely forgotten what she needed the advice for. Because now she’d be getting a whole lot more... But a whole lot more of what? “I’ve got to go,” she said.
“But you just called!” Pepper said.
“I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“Like what?” Lauren asked.
“I’ll tell you later.”
Five minutes after cutting the call to her cousins, and still ruffled about what might be coming her way next, Molly walked out of the lodge house and headed for the cleared space at the back of the hacienda where she could hear Saul hard at work. She’d quickly changed into old jeans and a long-sleeved button-down man’s shirt she’d bought for working in.
She checked her bandaged thumb, pulled work gloves out of her back pocket and slipped them on.
“Thought we’d get this space cleared once and for all,” Saul said as he stopped raking the stony ground when she came around the corner.
“Great.” Raking and wheelbarrowing—her favorite jobs. “Have you called about collecting your gear?”
“Battery on the sat’s dead. It’ll take a while to charge.” He passed her the rake. “You carry on raking. I’ll shovel the stones into the wheelbarrow.”
“Can you collect your gear tomorrow?” she asked, taking up the raking where he’d left off. The small stones caught and bounced against the tines of the rake and the dust kicked up. “You can take the pickup.”
“It’s Saturday,” he said, shoveling the pile of stones and tipping them into the biggest wheelbarrow—the one Molly couldn’t handle. It was too wide, and she wasn’t tall enough or strong enough to keep it steady when she moved it.
“So?” she asked.
“So the place isn’t open weekends. I’ll have to call Monday and arrange to pick it up Tuesday.”
Three whole days of non-roof-building time. “Don’t these storage places stay open 24/7?”
“Not this one.”
He got stuck in with his shoveling and Molly didn’t question him further. But why weren’t they open on a weekend? Maybe he hadn’t been able to afford a decent storage place. Maybe he’d spent all his money on his hiking equipment.
Two long, dusty hours later and Molly was astounded at the sense of achievement filling her. The cleared open space wasn’t level but they’d got rid of the last bits of rubble and all those stones.
Saul held up his empty beer bottle. “Want another?”
She shook her head. “Still got this one.”
“Mind if I do?”
“Help yourself.”
He moved off toward the kitchen door.
Molly followed.
“Am I cooking the brisket for tonight?” he asked, opening the beer fridge and taking a beer out. He turned and held the bottle up to her. “Sure?”
Molly lifted her still nearly full bottle and he nodded and closed the fridge door. “I’ll cook,” she said. She was the boss, after all. And bosses looked after their employees.
“Let’s take a look at the rest of this single-story area,” he said, and wandered out of the kitchen and into the un-roofed hallway beyond.
Molly skipped to catch up.
“This is the main reason I need a crane,” he said, pointing at the three long, fat, solid beams that had crash-landed on the mosaic patterned tiles of the hallway twenty-seven years ago when the GGs had blown the roof off. “Can’t get the roof frame in place unless they’re up and secured f
irst.” He took a pull of his beer. “I checked it out this morning, and it looks like they’ll fit snuggly back where they belong with little problem. They’re load-bearing, of course, so we’ve got to get that right. But the walls in the hacienda are solid. Nothing’s going to shift them.” He looked down at the broken tiles and sunken area where the beams had fallen. “Shame about the floor, but you can fix it easy enough. It’ll just take a bit of money.”
Molly wasn’t concerned about the tiled floor in the hallway yet. Her mind was still stuck on imagining no business because she didn’t have a roof. She wouldn’t have a roof because she couldn’t afford the crane.
“Is a crane the only way of handling those beams and all the rafters?” she asked, then took a slug of her beer.
“Cheapest way in the long-run, time-wise.” He shot her a look, studied her for a moment, then moved on, walking around the beams and out the hallway, heading for the roofless salon next door.
Molly followed.
“Nice space,” Saul said, looking up at the early evening sky above—due to there being no roof. He turned to the sash windows either side of a glass-paned door.
“It’s going to be my visitor reception and dining room,” Molly told him, as the peace of one of her favorite rooms in the hacienda settled upon her. “I’ll keep the wooden floorboards, once I’ve fixed them up. But I’ll have to replaster the adobe walls.” Seventy-eight years of abandonment had created a lot of problems in all parts of the hacienda.
“So you’re going to offer meals and such?” he asked, walking to the glass-paned door.
“Whatever I need to do to draw the tourists in for portrait sittings.” Molly walked up beside him and wrote her name in the grime on one of the glass panes. She finished with a flourish, and drew a curving line beneath her signature, then glanced up at her contractor.
He was smiling, and the peace of the room, the sinking sun outside the windows, the satisfaction of the achievement after their hard endeavor that afternoon, plus the glow his smile gave her insides, made her think she might have just swallowed heaven again.
He raised his beer and Molly raised hers in reciprocal salute. He tapped his bottle against hers. “Good luck, Molly Mackillop.” Then he downed his beer.