by Elle James
Dillon swore. “What’s his excuse now?”
“He spent the night in the ER with his son.”
Dillon frowned. “Is the kid all right?”
Pat nodded. “He has an acute ear infection. He was screaming bloody murder while I was on the phone with Joe.”
“Why can’t his wife take care of the boy?” Dillon asked, irritated that nothing seemed to be going right.
“His wife is expecting their third child. She stayed home with the five year old.” The foreman planted his fists on his hips. “They’re doing the best they can.”
Dillon looked at the ceiling for a second, trying to think. “We need backup. Is there anyone else who can fill in for Joe?”
Pat shook his head. “He’s the only one who knows where he left off laying in the plumbing throughout the building. We have to wait for him before we can start closing in walls.”
Again, Dillon swore. “What do I have to do to speed up the timeline?”
Pat shrugged. “We’re doing all we can. Every construction crew in the city is backlogged with work. It’s a good place to be, but not when you need more people to help out on a job. We can’t get skilled labor.” Patrick’s brow dipped lower. “Have you thought of talking with the customer and seeing if they would be all right extending the deadline another two weeks? I think we can wrap everything up by the end of the month.”
Dillon grimaced. “I’d rather not.”
“I know. You have a reputation to uphold.”
“And it gets us jobs others might not win because people know we’ll get it done on time,” Dillon reminded him.
“We couldn’t have counted on having a month of torrential rain slowing us down. Austin doesn’t get that kind of rain.”
“Until now,” Dillon said, his tone flat.
“And you didn’t have any control over the metal shortage for beams. Who knew the factory producing them would have a line break down and a union walkout that would last for a couple months?” The foreman raised his eyebrows. “Your customer will understand if you’re delayed a couple of weeks.”
“I’m not ready to admit defeat,” Dillon said, his back stiffening.
The foreman snorted. “You might not be, but some of the guys who’ve worked for a month straight, without a day off, are ready to walk off the job.”
Dillon frowned. “I’m paying a hell of a lot of overtime.”
“Hate to break it to you, but money isn’t everything.” He stepped past Dillon. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a site to run on my thirty-third straight day of working.”
The foreman left the trailer and slammed the door behind him.
Dillon’s gaze followed the man as he stomped toward the waiting crew.
Dillon could do almost every type of job on the site. He’d started working construction when he’d been fifteen and fudged about his age to land a job with a local builder, constructing new homes for some very wealthy clients in Austin. Along the way, he’d run into some of the most famous actors and musicians who’d made Austin their home.
Working with them had helped him see what he’d have to do to gain trust and build a business from scratch. All you had to do was be honest, manage your sub-tiers and get the job done on time and within budget. He’d perfected the budgeting by doing his homework and giving accurate bids. The time aspect of each project always seemed to be the hang-up. Getting crews to show up on time required having them at your disposal and keeping them employed so they’d be there for the next project.
Because he’d started so young, Dillon had learned the business and broke out on his own at the tender age of eighteen. By twenty-seven, he’d grown his business into a multi-million dollar enterprise. What he hadn’t made through construction, he’d made through investments. He’d built several speculative buildings in high-traffic areas and sold them for huge profits. Using the profits gained, he’d gotten lucky and invested in the stock market while it was down and watched as the market reached new highs, bringing his portfolio along with it.
He’d made a lot of sacrifices along the way, working long hours, seven days a week, with little social time. What time off he’d had, he’d used to work on the ranch with his brothers. Which had left little time for him to date.
When the Austin newspaper ran a story about the most eligible bachelors in and around the city, his name, along with his brothers’ had been included. Since then, they hadn’t been able to date without wondering if the women they met were really interested in them or their money.
Which was why Emma had insisted on Leslie’s online dating service.
Again, he had to have time to date. Working seven days a week left him little time to do much else.
And little time for his crew to spend with their families.
He sighed. The men hadn’t been off for a weekend in a month. If he didn’t give them a break and they walked off the job, he’d be royally screwed.
His mind made up, Dillon left the trailer and walked out to where the foreman was talking to the men. As he walked up behind Patrick, he could feel the animosity in the narrow-eyed stares and the tightly pressed lips. Yeah, they needed a break.
He turned to Patrick. “Pat tells me you’re all tired after working a month straight.”
The men responded with low grumbling without actually speaking out.
“You know we’re behind on this project, but I think working you into the ground isn’t going to make it go faster. When we’re tired, we make mistakes. Mistakes can cause even more delays. That being said, it’s up to you. You’re here now. You can stay and work or take the weekend off.”
Immediately, their faces changed from sour to jubilant.
Dillon grinned. “I take it you’re opting for the weekend off.”
As one, they shouted, “Yes!”
“Be back Monday morning to work hard and smart,” Patrick said. “When we get this job done, you’ll have more time to spend with your families.”
“Will do, boss,” one of the men said as he stripped off his helmet and hurried to his truck.
“Got a fishing pole with my name on it waiting for me at home,” another said. “Got it for my birthday a week ago and have yet to christen it in the lake.” He grinned and ran for his car.
“Thanks, boss,” another man said and ran for his vehicle.
Within five minutes, the site was empty of workers and their vehicles, leaving only Patrick and Dillon.
“You want me to stay and line out the work for Monday?” Pat asked.
“No, you need to get home. I’m sure your wife has a long list of chores for you to catch up on.” He clapped a hand on Pat’s shoulder. “Thanks for keeping me in line.”
“You did the right thing,” Pat said. “Take a page out of your own book and give yourself the weekend off. You work too hard. It’ll make an old man out of you before you hit thirty.”
“Is that so?” Dillon grinned. “Then I might just do that. I know some fences that need mending.”
“That’s not what I meant. Take some time off. Go see a movie, take a lady out to dinner, go enjoy a day at the lake. Destress.”
Dillon frowned. “You’re the second person in less than twenty-four hours who has urged me to destress.”
“Seriously, you need to. You’re wound tight.” Pat’s lip lifted up on one corner. “My wife’s been teaching me yoga. We do it in the evening. It helps me shake off the tension.”
Dillon looked at his foreman, seeing him as if for the first time. “Yoga?”
Pat frowned. “Yes. Don’t knock it until you try it. It’s harder than you think but helps you regain balance.” Pat nodded. “Now, if you’re done with me, I think I’ll go clean up and take my wife to that home and garden show she was wanting to go to this weekend.”
After Pat left, Dillon walked around the site with a notepad and pen, with the intention of marking all the things that still needed to be fixed. He ended up shoving the pad and pen into his pocket and leaving without make a si
ngle note.
If his employees could see how stressed he’d become, he wasn’t doing a good job of hiding it. Maybe his redheaded stairwell buddy and his foreman were right. He needed to relax and take some time for himself.
It was close to noon by the time he climbed into his truck and looked down at his cellphone.
A text had come through from his BODS match, Ariana.
His heartbeat quickened as he opened his text messages and read her response.
Hideout Coffee House on Congress at 2:00?
He knew the coffee house. He’d met clients there on a number of occasions. And it wasn’t far from the BODS office.
He squared his shoulders and texted back.
See you at 2:00.
There. That should make Emma happy. And coffee was perfect. All he had to do was spend a maximum of thirty minutes sitting with a stranger he knew nothing about, except for what was in her profile, and then he could head to the ranch for a relaxing time mending fences or mucking stalls. Nothing like getting dirty to make things real.
In the meantime, he could visit one of his other sites, wash his truck and get a bite to eat. He was glad he’d let the guys go home early. They’d been working hard. Maybe they could make up the time by working longer days the next few weeks. He’d figure something out, even if he had to get in and do some of the work himself.
Dillon drove by one of his favorite sandwich shops only to discover a line longer than he wanted to stand in. He switched gears and went to the car wash where he cleaned his truck thoroughly and vacuumed the interior. By the time he was finished, he was sweaty. He had just enough time to go to his condo, shower and change into clean jeans and a blue chambray shirt he could wear mucking stalls later. He slipped one of his straw cowboy hats on his head and pulled on work boots.
He figured there was no use setting Ariana’s expectations any higher. The match was from a computer software program. Computers couldn’t match living, breathing humans who had complex emotions and desires. He spent a lot of his time in similar clothing, though he had a whole wardrobe of nice clothes he wore when he worked with clients. He preferred a good pair of jeans and a T-shirt for most days of the week.
As he climbed into his truck to head to the coffee shop, his cellphone rang. He didn’t recognize the phone number, but he answered anyway. “Hello.”
“Dillon,” a female voice said. “It’s Leslie Lamb.”
“Hi, Leslie. What can I do for you?”
“I called to apologize.”
“For what.”
“The electrical outage last night did something to BODS. It’s been glitchy all day. That’s why it hasn’t found your perfect match yet.”
He slowed at a red light. “What do you mean it hasn’t found my match? I got a text last night from BODS with a name and the profile of a woman. We’ve arranged a date at a coffee shop.”
“Oh, dear,” Leslie said. “I’d hoped to catch you before BODS sent out anything. I’m sure your date will be just fine, but don’t be discouraged if it isn’t. I can’t be sure the system functioned properly. Last night’s storm did a number on it. I’m going to reload the program from a backup and run it again. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your date.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” Dillon said.
“Sorry to inconvenience you. I know how busy you are.”
After Leslie ended the call, Dillon sat with his hand on the steering wheel, wondering if he should text Ariana and tell her what had happened and cancel their date. Then again, Leslie was likely calling her now to tell her what she’d just told him. He glanced at the clock on his dash. Five minutes until 2:00. He’d be a jerk to cancel now. She might actually be punctual and already be sitting there, waiting for him to show.
Dillon wasn’t keen on the idea of online dating, but if a woman put herself out there, he’d be damned if he stood her up. It took a lot of courage to go on a blind date.
A car honked behind him. The light had turned green.
He pulled forward, still on course for the coffee shop.
Emma didn’t have to know about the glitch. He could get the one date he’d promised her out of the way, glitch or no glitch, and she’d get off his back. Thirty minutes. He could do that.
Chapter 5
Ariana had planned on being at the coffee shop fifteen minutes early. She’d left her house in plenty of time, but the traffic had played against her. Someone had had a wreck at a major intersection, blocking traffic for twenty-five minutes. She’d been blocked by the vehicles around her, or she would’ve turned down a side road and found another way to get to the coffee shop.
She’d spent the morning rushing from one place to the next, looking for someone who could fix her cellphone. In the end, she was told the phone was toast. She had to buy a new one. Thankfully, her data card hadn’t bit the dust in the fall into the bathtub. She was able to download all of her data from the card to a new one and upload it into the new cellphone. All in time to text Dillon Jacobs a few minutes before noon.
While she was waiting in traffic, she remembered to call Leslie and ask if Dillon Jacobs was Emma’s brother.
At first, Leslie didn’t answer the phone. The second time she tried to call, she did.
“Online Dating Service, this is Leslie.”
“Leslie, Ariana. Are you busy?”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m glad you called. I’ve been here since midnight, trying to figure out what’s wrong with the system.”
Ariana watched a tow truck back up to one of the wrecked vehicles ahead. “Something’s wrong with BODS?”
“Apparently, the building was struck by lightning last night and suffered a powerful electrical surge. It did something to my server and the software. I can’t be sure how much was damaged yet, but it’s been glitchy ever since. Did you get a text from BODS with a potential match?”
Ariana stiffened. “As a matter of fact, I did. I’m on my way to meet him now.”
“Oh,” Leslie paused.
“Should I be worried?”
“No, dear, not worried. I vet all my clients before I allow them to join BODS. It’s just…” She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure BODS sent you an accurate match.”
Ariana studied the wrecker driver as he loaded the smashed car onto the back of his truck. “Should I call and cancel?” She glanced at her watch. Hell, she was going to be late anyway. Still, if it was Emma’s brother, she didn’t want to stand him up. Emma was her friend. Friends didn’t do that to family of friends. Ariana sighed. She wouldn’t do that to anyone. It took a lot of guts for a man to join an online dating service to get a date.
“I don’t think you have to cancel. I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” Leslie said, though she sounded distracted. “But if it doesn’t work out, don’t be disappointed. I’m going to reload the system from a backup. It’ll be up and running by the end of the day, and it’ll find you that perfect match.”
“Okay. I’ll meet him,” Ariana said. “Do you think thirty minutes at a coffee shop is enough, if we don’t have anything in common?”
“Thirty minutes should be fine. No use spending more time, if you don’t hit it off. Frankly, I think in the first fifteen minutes you’ll know if you’re compatible.”
“I can leave at fifteen?”
“Honey, you don’t have to go, but unless you both mutually agree to call it off after fifteen minutes, I’d stay for the thirty.” Leslie said something to someone in the background. “I have to go. Tag’s helping me reload the backup. I’ll have my phone if you run into any difficulties.”
“Thanks, Leslie.”
“I’m sorry about the mix-up. Hopefully, it’ll be fixed soon. Bye.” Leslie ended the call.
“In the meantime, I have a date with someone who might not be a match for me.” Ariana sighed. “Oh, goodie.”
The wrecker was just pulling away as her digital clock on the dash blinked 2:00.
And she was going to be late. Well, if he got tired of wait
ing for her, he’d leave. She could text and let him know she’d gotten tied up in traffic. Feeling a little better about being late for a date that shouldn’t have been, Ariana called on her Zen and drove the rest of the way to the coffee shop, parked and hurried inside.
She looked around, realizing they hadn’t arranged for a way to identify themselves to each other. If he’d had the same issues with the app as she had, he hadn’t gotten a picture of her.
Ariana walked through the place slowly, searching for a man sitting alone. Unfortunately, there were several. She walked toward one man wearing nice trousers and a white polo shirt. He had his cellphone in front of him, keying away with his thumbs. When he looked up, she gave him a tentative smile.
He frowned and looked back down at his cellphone, turning away from her.
If he was her date, he hadn’t liked what he saw.
That was depressing and rude.
Ariana chose to believe he wasn’t her date and moved on to the next man. He sat in a booth by himself. His hair was long, pulled back in a man-bun, and he wore a set of headphones. He nodded his head in time to whatever music he was listening to.
She paused in front of his table and cocked an eyebrow, hoping he would take it as, Are you my date? Without her having to say it out loud.
He looked up, his eyes narrowed, and he looked from side to side. He pulled one side of the headphones free. “What? Is my music too loud?”
“No. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.” She hurried away. The other man who sat in a booth by himself looked up as she neared. He wore a button-down shirt only half buttoned. He had several gold chains around his neck and as many rings on his fingers. He didn’t look like he’d ever been on a horse, and his lips curled in a lounge-lizard sort of smile that made the hackles stand up on the back of Ariana’s neck.
Nope.
She turned away from him and got in line behind a broad-shouldered man wearing a cowboy hat, waiting for his turn to order a cup of coffee.
The woman in front of him placed her order and moved aside.