Chapter 7 Caleb
Caleb
The next day I made good time getting Hank and myself up and ready for a Monday morning.
I used to love driving to work alone; it gave me a few minutes of peace before the insanity of the workday.
But being alone was a thing of the past. Calvin and Klein lay entangled in the back seat, snoring so hard that their jowls quivered.
Snort, snort, snort…inhale. Snort, snort, snort… inhale.
Next to me sat Hank. Humming.
Nell didn’t work Monday mornings, so he was coming to work with me for a few hours. He loved jobsites even more than he liked being naked, so he was beaming.
I was not. I was basically bringing three toddlers to work, none of whom could speak or follow directions to save their lives; all of them enjoyed pretending not to hear me and touching stuff they shouldn’t.
We went to the Colburn Restorations offices first, as always. I spent several hours most mornings behind my desk, taking work from Ryder’s plate onto mine, running through various systems to fix problems and put out fires with clients, inventory, contracts, payroll…wherever I was needed.
Grif, Ry’s personal admin and also keeper of the gate, met us at the door.
He was always impeccably dressed. He sat at the front desk, the sweetest but fiercest bulldog you could ever meet.
No one got past Grif unless he wanted them to.
He handed Hank an apple—the man’s favorite fruit—and me one of his famous green smoothies that were magic, because I could swear I ached less whenever I drank one. “Thank you,” I said fervently.
“It’s got turmeric and other healing properties in it today, so drink up. And here…” He handed me a stack of files. “Urgent stuff on top; shit that can wait on the bottom.”
“‘Urgent,’ as in now?”
“Or yesterday,” Grif said sweetly. “And Ricky’s meeting you on the Henderson job today. FYI, he’s still an asshole.” Then he sashayed back to his desk.
Two hours later, my parade and I hit up the Henderson job, which was a little off the beaten path.
The rural road had taken a hit from the recent barrage of summer storms. Branches were down, the asphalt guttered and slick as shit.
Twenty harrowing minutes later, I pulled into the large circular drive and parked.
I opened the back passenger-side door, and the dogs leaped out. They knew the drill. Barking with joy, they ran around, sniffing every single plant as I turned to Hank, grabbing the backpack I kept for him with his iPad, a few puzzles, and snacks.
He joyfully hefted his to-go bag, the one I’d stopped for when he’d begun yelling, Ah, ah, ah! as we passed Al’s Diner. Never mind that he’d already eaten.
A faded-green Subaru pulled up and parked behind me, and a sense of relief hit me that it was running.
I had no idea what to expect after the gala, if anything had changed.
I’d told myself it hadn’t, but that was a big, fat lie.
I’d had her sweet, warm body in my arms, and when she’d looked into my eyes that night, I’d no longer seen the past; I’d seen things I hadn’t been prepared for.
Luckily, she was on the phone, so no awkward greeting was required.
Her driver’s door was open, and I got a peek inside.
Not that I could see much because the back seat was covered in neatly stacked duffel bags, plus what looked like a few suitcases and boxes.
I started to segue closer, wondering if she was moving again, but she caught my gaze, narrowed her eyes, and… shut her door.
Okay then. Message received. I whistled for the dogs to follow me and took Hank’s hand to let him up the storm-ravaged yard to the manor.
A large material delivery had been left at the bottom of the porch steps. Looked like the guys had unloaded half of it. I opened the door and gestured the cavalry in. As we walked through the staging area in the front room into the kitchen, I turned to Hank. “It’s cold in here. You warm enough?”
He nodded, then smiled over my shoulder, making me turn to look.
Emma had come in behind us. Her dazzling gala dress had been replaced by black pants and a blue silky thing under a blazer, her hair piled on top of her head.
Professional. Simple. I’d loved the heart-stopping dress, but I liked this look even better.
Especially that glint of try me, I dare you attitude gleaming in her eyes.
I was ready to play. “Cute,” I said. “You drove all the way out here to tell me you’re free this weekend after all.”
“Dream on. I’m here to take progress pics for Mr. Henderson, who’s in Italy for the next few weeks.”
Reasonable, but when you grew up as I had, you got good at reading people.
Emma was shifting on her feet, chewing on her bottom lip, and giving me the same smirk that Calvin and Klein would after eating my phone cord.
She was nervous, anxious. At seeing me again?
No, that didn’t make sense. She had no problem telling me exactly how she felt about me. “Everything okay?” I asked.
“Other than the fact I need caffeine more than I need my next breath.”
I gestured to the far counter, where we had a coffee pot and all the supplies to go with it. “Help yourself. The roads were a mess. You have any trouble getting here?”
She hesitated oddly. “Nothing I haven’t handled before.” She busied herself making coffee.
Interesting. Emma Sumner had secrets. “We take progress pics too. You could always just ask me to send them to you.”
“It’s part of my job,” she said.
“Or…you don’t want to ask for help.”
She put the slightest bit of sugar in her coffee, no cream. “Yeah, well, I’m not great at that.”
“A lone wolf.”
“Yes. And you’re not.”
“I’ve got enough nosy siblings to make the lone-wolf thing impossible. Everyone needs help sometimes; it’s just part of being a team. And at the moment, we’re on the same team.”
She took a sip of caffeine and gave a sigh of pleasure that went straight through me, even though I had to strain to hear it.
“Listen,” she said quietly. “I realize that the other night I was all glammed up and probably looked like a delicate little snowflake, but I can assure you, I am not.”
The kitten had claws. I lifted my hands in surrender. “Carry on then.”
“Thank you for permission to do my job.”
Back to adversaries. Noted.
She took another sip of her coffee, then a deep breath. “I wanted to thank you again. For giving me a jump.”
“Caffeine hit, huh?” I chuckled when she winced. “And no problem.”
She opened her mouth, but from behind us came, “Ah?”
I turned to Hank, who was eyeing Emma curiously.
And vice versa.
I looked at the woman I hadn’t stopped thinking about. “Hank, this is Emma, our architect liaison on this project. Emma, this is Hank.” I paused. “My father.” I didn’t even choke on the word as usual.
Emma smiled warmly, and I was man enough to admit I was jealous as fuck since she’d never laid that smile on me, not once.
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“He’s nonverbal,” I said.
Hank grinned, like he was in on the joke. Only I knew that the joke was on only one person—me.
“Hope you both have a good day.” Emma slid me a look before leaving the kitchen that said maybe she preferred I didn’t have a good day.
I watched her go. She sure had no problem going toe-to-toe with me.
I gestured Hank to a chair and set up the iPad to stream his favorite show: Jeopardy!
“You good?”
He held up the bag from the diner. I took it from him, pulled out the breakfast bagel, and fixed the wrapping so he could eat it.
He took a bite like he hadn’t eaten in a week, then moaned as he chewed, everything A-okay in his world.
At least one of us was good. “Stay here, okay? I’ll come back every few minutes to check on you.
If you need anything, tap on the table a few times. ”
“Ah.”
“I’m serious. You stay right here.” Just last week, I’d lost him in the grocery store.
He decided he didn’t want to go in, but neither did he want to wait in the car.
So I left him on a bench in front of the store after making him promise not to move, and when I came back out, he was gone.
After I tried to avoid heart failure, someone said he’d gone into the store after me.
I ran back in and found him in the ice cream aisle, holding as many containers of mint chocolate chip as he could.
Except for the one he’d dropped, melting all over his feet.
“Choose good,” I said, then headed to the living room, only to still in surprise at the view out the slider.
About twenty-five yards off the back of the house was Emma.
She had a remote control in her hands, sunglasses on, legs in a steady stance, head tipped back to the sky, directing a drone.
Calvin and Klein sat calmly and politely at her side like her personal security detail.
It was possibly the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
She brought the drone in for a landing with the precision of an F1 fighter pilot.
When the drone landed gently without a wobble, Emma dropped to her knees to pack everything up, quickly and efficiently breaking down the equipment.
A minute later, she strode inside with her backpack, my dogs trotting after her like lovesick fools.
“I see you’ve met Calvin and Klein,” I said.
She smiled down at the dogs. “They’re the sweetest little things, and so well-behaved.”
I eyed the boys. Boxers are athletic, with muscular builds, strong legs, square heads.
There was nothing “little” about them. Their eyes were expressive and intelligent, capable of conveying a wide range of emotions.
They were playful, goofy, ridiculously mischievous, but sweet?
Maybe if I were holding a treat. “They’ve got their moments. Nice drone.”
“Part of the job.” Her phone buzzed. Tension filled her body as she read the preview line of the latest text on her phone screen. My gaze caught on a text preview farther down on the list from a… “Who’s Don’t Even?”