Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“Some people pretend things aren’t happening because they can’t deal with them.”
Josie huffed. “Not my mother. She’s capable of dealing with anything.”
“Maybe that’s what she wants you to think.”
When she didn’t respond right away, I drilled the last screw in on the board and climbed down from the ladder. Josie was still stewing as I went outside, grabbed another slab of sheetrock, and screwed that one in too. The woman might be a shit driver, in over her head with this dilapidated house, and my dick had too big of an interest in her for my liking, but I wasn’t a total asshole. It sounded like she’d had a rough time lately. So I took out my phone and texted Porter, asking him for something I didn’t ask of many—a favor. Then I went about hanging the last of the ceiling.
Porter’s truck rumbled to the curb just as I finished up. He had one of those obnoxious exhaust systems—the kind you paid extra for to wake up your neighbors when you left early in the morning. He knocked on the screen door while I was still up on the ladder.
I lifted my chin toward the door. “That’s for me, if you could let him in.”
“Oh,” Josie said. “Sure.”
From two rooms away, standing on top of a ladder, I still couldn’t miss the way Porter’s eyes lit up when he got a look at the woman answering the door. Shit. I should’ve seen that coming. Josie was his type—she had a pulse. Porter flashed a smile that made too many women drop their panties, but his dimples only made the muscle in my jaw flex. I hurried to sink the last of the screws, but Porter already had Josie’s hand lifted to his lips by the time I climbed down and got my ass into the kitchen.
“Down, boy. I invited you here to work, not act like you’re in a singles bar.”
Porter’s eyes gleamed. “I was introducing myself to the lovely lady.”
I lifted my chin. “Josie, this is Porter. Porter—Josie. Now get to work.”
Josie’s forehead wrinkled. “Work?”
“Porter’s an idiot who chases anything in a skirt, but he’s a damn good spackler. He can start the ceiling while I get the wall boards up.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can handle it. The ceiling was more than enough.”
“We got it.”
“But…”
I motioned to my employee. “There’s another ladder in my garage. Should be some wood you can use as a plank, too.”
“On it, boss.”
Porter disappeared. Meanwhile, Josie stared at me like I had two heads.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t get you. You act like I’m a pain in your ass just for breathing, yet you’re going to help me.”
“You are a pain in my ass.”
“So why are you helping me?”
“Fuck if I know. It just feels like the right thing to do.”
Josie contemplated my answer for a minute, then a smile crept onto her face.
“What?” I asked.
“Opal is right. You’re a coconut.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Nothing.” She smiled. “Except I really want a piña colada now.”
CHAPTER 7
* * *
Not Interested
Fox
“So what’s Josie’s deal?” Two hours later, Porter hopped down from the ladder. He wiped the spackle from his hands onto his jeans.
I glanced over and went back to measuring for the last piece of sheetrock that needed to be hung on the walls. “There is no deal.”
“You’re not interested in her?”
My jaw flexed. “Nope.”
“Then why are we over here on a Sunday morning working on her living room when the high school job is running a week behind? If we were going to put in overtime, it would make more sense to be laying the oak floor in the gymnasium.”
“Let me manage my business, and you manage yours.”
Porter stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Don’t have any business to manage. Opal said Josie hit your mailbox.”
I looked up at the ceiling and shook my head. Did the whole, entire town need to gossip? “Why the hell is Opal talking to you about my mailbox?”
“Remember that time I accidentally backed into the address sign at the office? The bed of my pickup was full with boxes of cabinets for the Woodward job so I couldn’t see so good.”
“What about it?”
“You almost fired me, you were so pissed.”
“So?”
“So your best employee almost gets fired for hitting a sign, and some woman you just met gets her living room done on a Sunday?”
“Shut up and finish spackling.”
“I am done, at least until Josie gets back from the store with the joint tape I need to do that corner.”
I looked up at the ceiling. Sure enough, everything was finished except that one edge. I gestured to the giant can of spackle on the floor. “Start the walls.”
“No more left.”
“There’s a full bucket in my garage.”
“I thought you only wanted me to do the ceiling?”
“Just start the damn walls.”