6. Aaron
CHAPTER SIX
AARON
There’s something you don’t know about me , Emma has said. I’m really forgetful, okay? I’ve tried fifteen different planners, I keep multiple calendars—paper and digital—and I set alarms on my phone, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to keep very many details in my head at the same time.
So I just forgot I’d asked for help tonight, okay? We’re going to try to work super fast, so I can still come over by six-thirty-ish.
My ire calms with every sentence I read. Then the foolishness starts to creep in. I glance over to the cute arrangement of succulents I’d bought from her shop, and I hope Tahlia and Lizzie haven’t told her it was me who did.
Unless you’re going to be Grumpy Gus, she continues. Then I’ll just go home and eat popcorn and pancakes for dinner, and we can reschedule. I’ve got the dates on my calendar for the Spring Fling meetings. Thanks for those, but I don’t think I can make it tomorrow. We’ll see how tomorrow goes—and if I remember.
I’m going to silence my phone now, so I can focus and get these flowers done, so I can come “hang out” with you tonight.
Okay , I send her. I’m sorry. I stare at the words, wondering if they make me pathetic. My momma wouldn’t think so. She taught me it’s always okay to apologize and clear the air, so I leave the words and send them before I let the Doberman back in.
Man, opening the door to the bad boy sure is dangerous, and I sigh as I look up to the ceiling in my office.
Let me know when you leave the shop if you’re coming, and I’ll still get the Thai. You can have it for breakfast, at the very least.
Someone understands the assignment , Emma sends back, and I can just hear it in her flirty voice. I smile, because I hope this means I’m not in the moody doghouse anymore. I can’t be if she’s text-flirting with me like that, right?
“Aaron,” Fonda says as she opens my office door. “Your next appointment is here, baby.”
I flip my phone over and get to my feet. “Thank you, Fonda,” I say as formally as I can. After all, she just called me “baby” in front of a client. It’s a curse of the South, for sure. I smile as a tall gentleman gestures his wife into my office.
I so should’ve cleaned up, as this woman is wearing a pencil skirt in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday. She screams money, and I remind myself they’re interested in working with me .
“Mrs. Lindsey,” I say smoothly as I extend my hand toward her. “It’s great to meet you.”
“You too,” she drawls out, and we shake hands before I indicate one of the chairs in front of my desk. I go left as she dodges right, and I grin at her husband, Clark.
“Thanks so much for coming in,” I say. “Sorry about the mess; I’ve got a lot of projects on my plate right now.”
And that’s putting it mildly.
I shuffle my folders around to get the right one as everyone settles in. My desk chair squeaks in an embarrassing way as I finally find the Lindsey’s folder and flip it open.
“We hope ours will be one of them,” Sara says, her smile positioned just-so on her face.
I have this file memorized, so I don’t need to look at it. I meet her eyes. “An above-the-garage addition is one of my absolute favorite things to do.”
Her face lights up, and Clark’s smile settles into one of satisfaction. “Is that right?”
“Your blueprints look pretty good,” I say, sliding a page from one side of the folder to the other. “But these pictures have me concerned…”
The Lindseys both lean forward, obviously anxious to explain to me why I should take on their project. I let them give their spiel, and I take several notes. Those I will need later, and when Mrs. Lindsey starts repeating herself, she reminds me so much of my momma.
“All right,” I say as she takes a breath. “I think I have enough to give you a quote.”
She reaches for her husband’s hand, and I wonder what my life would be like if getting a bid on the addition for my already-big house was the thing worrying me the most.
I take a deep breath. “I can take this on in about a month,” I say, making it sound like I’ll have to reschedule several other projects. I do have to finish my house first and get through Liam’s wedding.
“It’ll take me about ten weeks.” Which puts me really close to the Summer Faire, and I reconsider everything. I clear my throat and move my hand so it covers the number I’d written on my notepad. I’ll have to print out an official quote to add them to my building schedule anyway, and they won’t know the difference.
“And be in the mid-two-fifty range,” I say. It’s a lot of money, and I do love acting as a general contractor. But I’m almost hoping they say no.
They exchange a glance, and the tension in the room simply sits on my lungs. But I rescheduled my other two consults today, and I’m semi-anxious to get out of here so I can work on my own house.
I’m covered in fine dust when I hear someone enter my house. “Howdy-ho,” my momma calls, and my stomach tightens into a dense ball.
It takes me another moment to blink my way out of the drywall in the master bathroom. Once this is done, I can texture, put the baseboards back on, paint, and this room will be remodeled.
“In the bathroom,” I call. I should’ve expected to see my momma soon, because it’s been a few days.
“There you are,” she says just as I get the last piece of sheetrock in place. The nail gun goes pop-pop-pop as I get the nails locked in the right position. “The back deck looks stunning, sweetie.”
I smile over to her and lean toward her so she can kiss my cheek. “Thanks, Momma.”
“Daddy is sliding dinner in your oven.”
I hold my tongue about the Thai—and Emma. “Thanks, Momma. You guys staying?”
Please say no, please say no, please say no.
“Maybe for a minute,” Momma says. “We’re waiting for Thomas to get done with his community class, and then I think we’re gonna go get cheesy fries.”
My stomach growls, and of course my mother hears it. “You should take a break,” she says. “Come eat. I made you chicken and biscuits, and everything’s hot.”
“I want to finish this up,” I say. “You guys relax on the back deck, and I’ll be out when I get this wall done.” I wanted to tape and mud it too, and now I might not be able to.
I don’t tell any of that to Momma, nor do I mention that I can’t have Emma come “hang out” in my private master bathroom tonight, so I need this done before I move on to removing the popcorn ceiling in my office.
That’s the place I was hoping I could hang out with the pretty blonde tonight, while we flirt and eat Thai. Of course, my momma’s cooking might be a good meal to win Emma over with too.
You’re not trying to win her over , I tell myself. But I so am.
“Okay?” Momma asks.
“Okay,” I say, though I have no idea what I just agreed to. It gets my mother to leave, and I keep working, faster than before. See, now I have to get rid of my parents in the next…I glance over to my phone.
Twenty minutes until six-thirty-ish.
“Great.”
I tape and mud like I’ve never taped and mudded before. With everything where it needs to be for tonight, I leave the bathroom and pull the bedroom door closed behind me just as someone knocks.
“Come in, Tommy,” I call as I duck into the guest bath to clean up. No one comes in, which is a little weird. As I reach for a hand towel, I realize it’s weird for Tommy to ring the doorbell at all.
“Tommy?” I toss the towel on the counter and leave the bathroom. The house is open now, and I cast a glance through the kitchen to the back deck, where I catch sight of my parent’s heads.
I swivel my attention to the front door just as it opens, and there’s Tommy. But he’s not looking at me or watching where he’s going. He enters my house walking backward, with the fabulous, curvy Emma following him.
Was I so focused on finishing the bathroom that I didn’t hear her text come in? I don’t even remember my phone chiming, and I’ve assigned her a special one, so I can make my pulse go crazy without even seeing what she’s said.
No matter what, Tommy says, “Yeah, that’s why they had to go all the way into Mordor to destroy the Ring of Power, you know?” and I lurch toward the front door to rescue Emma from my younger brother.
But there will be no saving her from my parents, and to my great dismay, the squeaking of the back screen door fills the air as I say, “Hey, you made it.”
I have no idea who I’m talking to, as Emma wears a plastic smile and Tommy adds, “It could only be destroyed from the fires from whence it was forged, and only the hobbits could do it.”