Chapter Two
Wyatt
“I’m headed out, Bossman,” I called to Jace as I grabbed my tools.
He raised an eyebrow.
“He’s talking to a potential client about a side project,” Layne said, elbowing Jace. “Remember?”
Jace’s eyebrows rose, and he nodded quickly. “Right, forget about that. Uh, let us know how it goes.”
“Okay,” I said, confused by their reaction. I took on side projects all the time when we were slow. Why they were acting all weird about this one, I had no idea. I’m sure they would just miss me.
I got into my Wild Timber Homes truck and started the engine. Wildrose Bend was a tiny place, all things considered, so it wouldn’t take me long to get there. Even if I hit the one stoplight in town on a red, it wasn’t exactly rush hour.
I arrived at my destination in no time and I parked my big white diesel in front of the house, then grabbed my tool belt and secured it around my waist. I was used to building homes so building furniture would be a piece of cake. Which was perfect.
Work was actually smoking busy, but we were waiting on materials for a big project we affectionately called the Beast. It was a hurry up and wait game, and I couldn’t handle standing still.
I glanced up at the house as I walked up the driveway.
It was a small place with a one car garage and a loose gutter to the left of the door.
I made a mental note to mention it to the homeowner.
Hell, I could fix it while I was here if they wanted me to.
My brain automatically made a list of repairs wherever I went.
My mom always said I’d try to fix heaven’s front gate if they ever let me in.
I knocked on the door, and a moment later it swung open.
I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but no words came out.
The woman in front of me had her dirty blonde hair pulled back from her face.
She was wearing light blue jeans and a t-shirt, arms with visible muscle on display.
I was six feet tall, more with my boots on, and she wasn’t far behind.
Her blue eyes were big and round, and there was a small smile on her light pink lips.
So much for my professional greeting. My brain had apparently clocked out early.
“You must be Wyatt,” she said, her smile widening. “I’m Vera.”
She stuck out her hand. I gripped it in mine, and shook it. “You look familiar,” I blurted.
Real smooth, Wyatt. Next, ask if she comes here often.
Her cheeks colored, and she let her hand fall from mine. “Oh, uh, I wait tables at The Bent Rose if you’re ever there.”
I nodded. “This town only has so many places to eat, and Bent Rose is great, so I’m there all the time.”
She moved past my awkwardness, and stepped back. “Come on in.”
I stepped into her house; it was tidy and well kept smelling like something delicious. Meatloaf, maybe. I expected her to lead me to the garage, but we ended up at the kitchen table.
She sank into a chair, and I followed suit.
I glanced around the table. There was a notebook with the corners rolled from use, a ruler, a pencil, and a collection of items that made my cheeks burn red.
“Uh, are those…relevant to the project?”
She followed my gaze, looking completely unfazed. “Oh, yes,” she flipped through her notebook, but didn’t explain why she had what looked like dildos and vibrators in a variety of sizes in the middle of her kitchen.
“Ah, here we go,” she said, turning the notebook in my direction. I studied the image. It was a carefully hand-drawn blueprint for a small dresser or nightstand. “Okay, that looks simple enough.”
She let out a long, aggravated groan. “That’s what I thought too, but there’s a curveball.”
I blinked. “Care to fill me in?”
“Do you have kids, Wyatt?” She rested her head in her hand.
I shook my head, trying to keep up with her train of thought. Pretty sure we’d taken a sharp turn somewhere after I noticed the sex toys, and I was lost.
She nodded. “Well, kids have a way of embarrassing their parents, either with what they say or what they do. I can tell you from experience that they can come across mommy’s special toys and decide to parade them out into the living room when your in-laws are over, or mention them to strangers at the grocery store. ”
“By special toys you mean…” I gestured towards the sex toys, and she nodded.
I fought to push down the image that was building in my mind of her using one of the vibrating bullets, sliding it between her thighs and making her own legs quake.
The full HD mental picture my brain supplied was extremely unhelpful.
“Okay, I can see that being a problem, but what’s this got to do with the furniture?”
Her eyes lit and she tapped the drawing.
“I want to design a nightstand with built-in hidden storage for things you don’t want your kids to stumble across.
I know how to build a nightstand. I used to work in construction.
What I can’t figure out is the design. So, basically all I have is an idea, a nail gun, and enough sex toys to make a porn star blush. ”
I wondered if she bought the toys to test the nightstand design or if she already had them. Again, not a helpful thought. “So you need me to help with the initial design, and build for your, uh, toy box?”
She laughed. It was a pretty sound that made my chest feel light. “Toy box, oh man, that is a great name for this. Do you mind if I use it?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m not just building this for myself; I want to make a business out of it.”
I blinked a few times, slotting all the information she’d given me into place. She mentioned a kid, and she mentioned in-laws, which implied there was a husband in the mix somewhere. Disappointment settled low in my gut, although when I glanced at her left hand there was no ring on her finger.
I should be focusing on the design, but her relationship status felt more important.
“So you’re married,” I blurted, my brain going from two steps behind to ten steps ahead.
She shook her head, “Divorced, single mom to one very strong-minded eighteen-year-old boy. I don’t have to worry about this with him anymore, but I bet lots of parents do.”
Single? Yes! Single mom? This new information tempered my excitement.
Not that I had anything against single moms; I was raised by one.
That experience is exactly why I usually keep my distance.
I watched my mom try over and over again to find love, only to find one more obligation.
One more person to take care of. I did everything I could to help her out: took on odd jobs, cleaned the house, and told every stupid joke I could come up with to make her smile.
I would never want to be one of those guys like my mom dated.
Demanding attention from someone who was already overworked.
“Is that something you can do?” She asked, pulling me out of my own head. “I know Wild Timber is known for custom builds, but this is a bit different from a cabin or house.”
A nightstand wasn’t exactly the Taj Mahal, but adding an element like hidden storage could be tricky. I knew I was going to say yes to whatever she needed from me. I was invested in this strange little vision she had, and I wanted to help her.
My curiosity about her collection, and what she did with it had nothing to do with it. Okay, maybe a little to do with it.
“Leave it with me. I’ll go over your design ideas and we’ll come up with something.” So long as I could keep myself from being distracted by my sexy new client. And the most awkward kitchen table meeting of my professional career.