Nailing Mr. Nasty (Campy Romances Series Book 2), page 9
“Hell, I’m called that to my face!”
“Oh, well, okay. But you’re a big softie, aren’t you?”
“Whoa, whoa.” He held up a hand to stop her from further erroneous platitudes. “I’m not that guy. Ron Santorini is that guy. Not me. I’m a hard ass. I’ve made more enemies than friends.”
She puffed out a sigh of exasperation. “Why are you so opposed to being thought of as nice?”
“I’ve come up the hard way. Clawing, cussing, kicking, knocking people out of my way.” He leveled her with his patented stone-cold stare. “I want people to respect me. I don’t care one way or another if they like me.”
She stared back at him and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
“I respect you and like you.”
Not expecting the warmth that flowed through him from her simple declaration, he yanked his gaze from hers and stared out over the lake. Hell, he didn’t know how to handle this woman. He knew what he should do – keep her at arm’s length – but he was having a hell of a time doing it. In her own way, she was as tough as nails, too. She used kinder language than he did, but she had a way of putting steel in her eyes and voice that caused men to bristle, but listen to her. She knew how to win men over with a well-placed smile, too. He’d seen her lash out in frustration and then smile to ease the sting. He figured she’d learned those skills from dealing with her crotchety father and the late and surly T.L. Balfour. He also pledged that he wouldn’t let them work on him. He had her number. Sort of.
A few more boats had appeared. A dog barked frantically in the distance and Taylor answered with a growl. Someone gave a whoop and a jubilant “Got one!” that traveled over the water.
“You like me back,” she added, barely audible.
Huh? His brain stalled for a few moments before he realized that she was harkening back to her last comment about liking and respecting him. Should nip this in the bud, he thought. Just tell her that she should look elsewhere. He wasn’t looking for a relationship with her beyond boss and employee. Then what was she doing here? They sure as hell weren’t working.
“I’ve been wondering, Jack. Are you seeing someone special now? Got another Frenchy on the line?”
This was a big mistake. She shouldn’t be here. She was exactly the kind of woman he could fall hard for and he knew it. Sensed it the moment he’d laid eyes on her at Lucy’s party. She might as well come with warning stickers pasted to her body. A quiver of panic wormed up through him. “That’s none of your concern, Sam. It’s nice fishing with you, but that’s all this is. Don’t get the wrong idea about it.”
Her spine straightened and that steely sheen covered her eyes. “Did I miss something? Because it sounds as if you think I asked you to go steady or some other kind of stupid shit. I asked you if you were dating someone. I didn’t ask you to date me. I said I like you. Didn’t say I want to go down on you. Just because we swapped spit the other night doesn’t mean I’m googly-eyed over you, Jackie boy.” She indicated the watery expanse before them. “There are lots of fish out there. Some that will happily jump into my boat, no bait needed.” Pink color bloomed in her cheeks and fireworks sizzled in her silvery eyes.
Well, hell! He wished she hadn’t said that thing about going down on him because it was hard to get that image out of his mind. And he needed to. He really, really needed to. “Glad you got that off your chest, Striker.” He pulled the brim of his cap lower and tried not to stare at her breasts. “Damn, woman. Doesn’t take much to set you off.”
She angled her chin at his fishing line. “You should talk. You have another bite. Pay attention. I thought you were supposed to be a fantastic crappie catcher. Uh-oh. One is messing with my bait now.” She waited for her bobber to slide away from the boat, then she set the hook.
Jack swore he could feel the bite of it in his cock. This time, his was the heftier catch. As they slid the two fish into the well, he did a quick count.
“That’s enough, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Plenty. We should go.” She reeled in her line and picked off the bait, dropping the minnows into the lake. “Let’s call it a day before our luck runs out or we start exchanging blows.”
He grinned at that as he stowed his own rod and reel and started the outboard motor. They made for the dock in silence with her petting and talking to Taylor and pointedly not looking at him. Women. They got their feelings hurt so easily and did the cold shoulder thing. His sisters were champs at it.
Edging the boat into his slip, he killed the engine and opened the deep well. “I have two big bags of crappie in my freezer already. You can have these.”
“I’ll take them. Thanks.” She placed the flopping fish into the cooler she’d brought. “My parents will throw a big fish fry in the next few days.”
“You want to grab lunch before I take you home?” he offered.
“No, thanks.”
He smiled to himself. Looked like it was going to be a long, quiet drive back to Tulsa.
Sam stared at the freshly tiled bathroom floor and heaved a long sigh. “It’s supposed to be laid on the diagonal.” She sent an arched glare at Delbert, the tile guy.
Delbert ran a shop rag across the back of his neck and squinted at the job he’d just finished. “Looks good this way to me.”
“Right, but on the plans, it says in big, bold, Jack Nast letters to lay it on the diagonal. Guess you didn’t check the plans before you did this. That’s a costly error on your part.”
“Those plans move all over the place. I can’t be searching around for them when I have work to do.” Delbert shoved the shop rag into the back pocket of his coveralls.
“They were on the work table this morning and they are there right now. Haven’t been moved. All you had to do was check and double-check before you started your work in here.” She kept her tone low and even, but inside she braced for a fight. Del was great at tiling, but lousy at admitting when he was wrong. Since she’d been working for Jack, she’d kept Delbert from using the wrong tile twice and both times he’d been full of excuses as to why it wasn’t his fault.
“I think the floor looks good this way.”
She shrugged. “It’s fine, but it’s not what’s on the construction plans.”
“This ain’t going to keep someone from buying this house,” he groused, flinging a hand at the floor. “Redoing it don’t make sense. We need to move on to the next tile job and call this one done.”
Sam shifted her weight to one foot and leveled him with a steady gaze. “Delbert, you have two choices here. You can relay this tile, starting now, and you’ll probably nearly be finished before Jack stops by to check on your progress. Or you can leave this and wait for Jack to see it or for me to tell him about it and have him blow a gasket and tell you to go to hell in a variety of colorful and obscene ways. Either option has you laying this tile on the diagonal. What’s it going to be?”
“Doubles my labor time.”
She nodded.
“Nast won’t like paying double, I’ll tell you that!”
“Oh, he won’t pay double because this isn’t his screw up. It’s all on you.” From the corner of her eye, she could see that a few of the men had stopped working to watch the show. “You even think of charging overtime for this floor and you’ll hear Jack bellowing from here to Oklahoma City. He might even show you the exit, which would really turn your pockets inside out.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth to argue. “Just do it, Del, and hurry so that you don’t have to rob your kid’s piggy bank.”
He glowered at her, grabbed the rag out of his back pocket, and threw it on the floor in a fit of childish anger. “Okay, okay! It’s stupid, but I’ll do it. This floor looks great as it is, but since everyone around here is scared shitless of riling up Nast, I’ll retile this mother.”
“From all of us quivering jellyfish, we thank you,” she rejoined with a sickly smile before leaving him to it. She caught Ron Santorini’s smirk as she marched through the Swan Lake house and out to the front of the property. Some days she’d like nothing better than to apply the toe of her Doc Marten to a few backsides. This was one of those days.
Since she’d arrived two hours ago, she’d tussled with a recalcitrant electrician, tracked down a missing set of cabinets, blessed out a vendor for sending the wrong size AC unit, harangued a guy to pick up their full-to-the-brim dumpsters, and faced off with Delbert over the tile fiasco. It wasn’t even noon yet and she was ready for a stiff drink.
Slipping on her sunglasses, she leaned against the porch post and gathered in some calming breaths as she admired the glimpse she had of Swan Lake. Lured by it, she crossed the yard and the street to the fence that surrounded the lake. Water fowl flew in and landed with hardly a ripple on the lake’s surface. A pair of trumpeter swans glided nearby. A turtle surfaced, looked around, then disappeared under the murky water again.
Hearing a car purring behind her, Sam glanced over her shoulder and froze when she recognized the pale, round face looking back at her from the front seat of the white Lexus. Deanna Darwin, T.L.’s bothersome niece.
“Are you putting out for the boss man?” Deanna’s dark eyes were slitted like a hissing cat’s. “Is that why you’re still on the job here?”
“Go away, Deanna.” She stared at the lake while her nerves frayed and tears built in her eyes. God, she hated her and Brad! All she and her brother cared about was getting their hands on some money. They hadn’t even pretended to give a damn about T.L. It was only after his will was read that they were suddenly all up in his business.
“Anyone with scruples wouldn’t have you on the payroll. We know why you’re still working. You’re trying to make it look like you’re a philanthropist. That you’re going to give Uncle T.L.’s money to charity and not spend it on yourself. Won’t work, though. We’re almost ready to file our suit against you. Our attorneys are fired up and ready to blast you to smithereens.” She gave a toss of her head and diamonds sparkled on her earlobes.
Sam pushed away from the fence and walked in the opposite direction, away from the woman and her threats. As soon as Deanna pulled away, Sam crossed the street and made her way back to the job site, the seedlings of her better mood sufficiently crushed. Sometimes she thought about giving the inheritance to Brad and Deanna to get them out of her life. But she couldn’t do that. T.L. had entrusted her with his life savings, his life’s work. He had been adamant that his nephew and niece be given nothing except what he’d designated in his will. He had insisted in his will that she do him proud by using some of the money he’d left for herself and the rest to be doled out to charities and worthy projects.
Before she’d worked for T.L., she had been on the staff of a large foundation set up by one of Oklahoma’s prominent families that had made their fortune in oil and gas. Looking through proposals and pleas for assistance had been interesting. Decisions had been made after thorough investigations and meetings with lawyers and management boards.
Now she found herself the head of the T.L. Balfour Foundation and in a battle with his nephew and niece. Until that battle was over, she didn’t feel that she could move forward with any donations. That was frustrating. She looked forward to assisting charities and even setting up a scholarship in T.L.’s name.
Would Brad and Deanna be able to file suit or were they bluffing? What could they sue her for? The will was notarized and T.L.’s attorney had vouched for it being all on the up and up.
“Sam?”
She turned to find Ron standing behind her. “Yes?”
“You got your phone on you?”
Nodding, she automatically shoved her hand into her jacket pocket and came up empty. “Rats. I guess it’s in the car. Why?”
“Jack’s been calling. He’s at the other job site and he’s not happy with the pace of the landscaping.”
“Right.” She headed for her car, figuring she was now going to be on the receiving end of a Jack Nast tirade, which would add that extra dash of bitters to her crapola cocktail. “I’m on it.”
Chapter 8
Hammered
Friday evening after work, Sam was restless. After throwing together a stir fry in her wok and gobbling it down, she sat for a while on the sofa, flipping through TV channels. Finding nothing interesting, she switched off the TV and grabbed her purse and car keys. She went to Braum’s and ordered a vanilla frozen yogurt cone. The lights of downtown Tulsa tempted her and she headed in that direction, enjoying the yogurt and sugary cone along the way. Then it was only a few turns before she aimed her car at Reservoir Hill.
The crew had finished the house there and she drove past it slowly, admiring their work and recalling the rough patches along with the times when it all worked out beautifully. She gave a little gasp when she noticed the “Sold” banner stuck to the real estate sign. The place had been on the market for no more than a week and it was already sold! Jack must be happy with that news. He grumbled about “gut-punching carrying costs” every time this property was mentioned.
The Swan Lake house was their biggest project now and Jack’s other crew was finishing up remodeling a starter home near the Tulsa fairgrounds. Next, she’d heard, they’d tackle a ranch style house in midtown that hadn’t been updated since the nineteen seventies. Ron had told her that it was mostly decorated in harvest gold and avocado green. A real blast from the past. They were set to begin working on it next week. Demo days. The crew loved demolition days when they tore down walls and gutted kitchens and bathrooms. Jack always showed up then, too, to swing a mallet and rip kitchen cabinets off the walls with his bare hands. To be honest, she enjoyed the rippling muscles and caveman grunts when Jack hoisted a toilet over his head or kicked down a wall. It was nearly impossible for her to keep her eyes off him. God, he was ripped! Sometimes his t-shirt hiked up to reveal his six-pack and the swirl of dark hair on his chest and stomach. That’s when her knees weakened and her breath hitched. He was exactly the type of man who made her go all creamy. Solid, strong, alpha.
Carefully driving along the road that snaked around the hill that led to the large, white, water reservoir, Sam’s thoughts shattered when she spotted another vehicle parked at the summit. Darn it. Probably a couple of teenagers up here . . . whoa! She smothered a little squeal when she recognized the silver truck and the man sprawled on its hood. Parking beside the pickup, she killed her engine. Jack thumbed up the bill of his cap and glanced over at her. He was still wearing his work clothes – jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved, unbuttoned blue plaid shirt over a gray t-shirt.
She chided herself for the little thrill that arrowed through her at finding him alone after work. If she weren’t so obsessed with him, her life would be much simpler. But she couldn’t turn off her feelings. Being around him was like a drug. She knew he wasn’t unaffected by her nearness either. The kisses they had exchanged had spoken truth. He wanted her, but he was keeping himself in check, which made her ache to push him over the edge.
She slid out of her car and walked toward him, putting a bit more swing in her hips and naughtiness in her smile.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, drawing a forefinger along the top of the truck’s bumper. “You come here often?” Without waiting for an invitation, she rested her rump on the bumper and looked over her shoulder at him.
“It’s a good place to ponder life,” he drawled, his gaze raking over her like a hot flame. “Bet my hood is a lot more comfortable than the one on that pitiful piece of metal you drive around in.”
“Hey, lay off my car. It’s unique.”
“Only reason you drive it is to get attention.”
“It happens to be reliable. I’m fond of it – and of the man who gave it to me.” She slipped off the bumper and turned to face him. “Besides, I don’t need a car to get attention. In case you haven’t already noticed. Which you have. Scoot over a little and give a girl some room.”
With a put-upon sigh, he inched sideways and she stretched out next to him, resting her head on her crossed arms. It was a clear night and they were far enough away from the city lights so that stars were visible.
“It’s nice up here. Hey, I smell rain. Do you?”
He sniffed. “A little. I think I heard something about scattered thunderstorms tomorrow.”
“It’s been a dry fall, so far. We need the rain.”
He made a scoffing sound. “That’s all year long in Oklahoma.”
She thought about that before conceding. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Propping herself up on her elbows, she admired the twinkling lights above them and tried not to let her gaze drift over his prone form. “Where’s Taylor?”
He jabbed a thumb behind them. “In the cab, snoozing. He’s had a big day running around, sniffing and peeing on stuff.”
She snickered at that. “I drove here to have one last look at the house. It’s sold!”
“Two couples bid on it, so we got four thousand over the asking price when it was all said and done.”
“Great! That will erase some of your carrying cost debt.”
“Most of it, actually. We got lucky.”
She tipped her face up to the sky again. “This is a good place to clear your head and let your troubles go for a while.”
He focused fully on her. “Is that asshole still running off his mouth about you?”
“T.L.’s nephew? Yeah, a little. Nothing I can’t handle.” She tried to sound nonchalant. “Eventually, he and his sister will give up and go away.”
“What’s their end game? They surely don’t think a court will overturn their uncle’s last will and testament.”
“I think they’re hoping that I’ll be so embarrassed by the rumors they’re spreading that I’ll hand over some money to keep him and his sister quiet. Hush money.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You should sue them for harassment.”
“I’ve thought of that, but it would make them think they’re getting to me.” She hunched her shoulders, dismissing the discussion. “So, why are you here? Are you lonesome tonight?” She hummed a few bars of the Elvis hit and giggled when he groaned.
