Chapter Six
Gwen
W ithan infuriating loop of hold music playing in my ear,I paced the peeling linoleum of The Grille.
Yep. Two weeks later, it was still The Grille and not The Rosewood thanks to yet another contractor flaking on me. It was truly astounding how hard it was to pay someone to show up and work. I could have just left the door unlocked and let the local teenagers loot the place quicker—and most definitely cheaper.
A gentle rap at the door caught my attention. I glanced up to see Cooter—I mean, Lucille —standing on the other side, an umbrella held over her head. I barely recognized herwith her long gray hairflowing over her shoulders. We’d been in contact a few times since that day at the diner. I’d texted to let her know her job was secure, and she’d called to let me know she’d spent one weekend at her daughter’s house before her “mouth breather of a son-in-law” had made her run for the hills. So she was back in town if I needed help sooner than planned. It was a kind offer, something that I was learning was not uncommon for her.
“Open up. I come bearing gifts,” she said, lifting a Tupperware container filled with what I could only identify as something chocolaty.
Unfortunately, the gift wasn’t the professional with a toolbelt that I needed or even the bottle of wine that I wanted, but I was never one to turn down chocolate.
After unlocking the door, I shoved it wide. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
She tipped her chin at the phone. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You aren’t. I’m on never-ending hold with my contractor’s office. Come on in. Get out of that rain.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” With the click of a button, she closed her umbrella and left it outside the door.
She looked amazing in astylish pale-pink T-shirt dress cinched at the waist with a thin brown belt. I, on the other hand, was in my best comfort chic of yoga pants and a stained T-shirt. Whatever. Tearing downbathroom stalls didn’t exactly require formalwear.
Her lip curled as she scanned the dining room. “You should probably fire that contractor when he answers. It doesn’t look like he’s done anything around here.”
“Oh, he hasn’t. That includes stepping foot inside the building for any reason other than to pick up the deposit check. It’s starting to feel like hiring a reliable contractor is nothing more than an urban legend.”
She carried the container to one of the tables I’d pushed into the corner and set it down.“That’s men for ya. Always playing games, even with their work ethic.”
“True, but I don’t know of any women in the construction business. Do you?”
“Nope. Don’t know any women with a dick, either, which is why I never got remarried.”
A loud laugh bubbled up my throat.“I like the way you think.”
“And I like the fact that you didn’t get all prickly when I said dick.”
I shrugged. “Half the world has one.”
Carefully, she took two of the stacked chairs off the table and set them on the floor. “And it sounds like all the contractors in this town are one. Have a sit-down and fill me in on this renovation runaround you’ve been dealing with. Call it sixth sense or female intuition, but I just knew you needed some of Coot’s famous brownies.”
Shifting the phone to my other ear, I lifted the edge of the Tupperware and peeked inside. “Oh, wow,” I moaned as I took in the most amazing brownies topped with caramel sauce, pecans, and white chocolate chips. “With the day I’ve had, I’m going to need at least three.”
“Girl, you can have ’em all. With a figure like yours, I was worried you’d be one of those calorie counters who can’t eat sugar or orgasm.”
I slanted my head. “Do those two things usually go together?”
“In my experience, almost exclusively.”
I laughed again, relishing in the much-needed moment of levity. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”
“Anything for you, Boss.” She winked.
A woman’s voice finally cut through the elevator music. “Ms. Weaver?”
“Yes! I’m here.” I lifted my finger in Lucille’s direction, asking for a second. “Yes, I was on hold for Ryan Meeker.”
“Sorry, but Ryanis already gone for the day.”
“Uhhh, was he gone before I spent twenty minutes on hold?”
She ignored my sarcasm and replied with all the charm of a doorknob. “It’s six o’clock. What do you expect? Just give him a call back tomorrow.”
“No, thank you. He was supposed to be here with a whole crew to clear out my restaurant today .”
“And just like I already told you, they got tied up at another jobsite this morning. We’ll get you back on the schedule for some time next week.”
Screwing my eyes shut, I pinched the bridge of my nose. I could not afford another delay. Whether the restaurant was open or not, I had bills to pay. Power, water, insurance. Those things didn’t stop.
“Why were they even at another jobsite today? You told me they’d be here at seven this morning and it’s now six p.m. Eleven freaking hours later.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to watch your language.”
My chin jerked. “Freaking isn’t a cuss word.”
“Oh really? So what exactly does freaking mean, then? Is it something you’ll be doing on your darn way to heck?” She scoffed.“I can read between the lines, ya know.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it incredulously. What in the nonsense hell was this woman talking about? I opened my mouth to give her a piece of my mind that she wouldn’t have to read between any lines but managed to stop myself. I’d always been a firm believer in the whole catching-more-flies-with-sugar-than-vinegar thing. Besides, I was shit at confrontation. I talked a big game but would probably end up sending her flowers and an apology the next day.
Filling my lungs, I held my breath as I did a mental search-and-rescue for my patience. This was not the time to lose my shit, my contractor, and more than likely my deposit too.“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just a little frustrated. That’s all.”
“Oh, hell no!” Lucille exclaimed just before she snatched the phone from my hand. “Listen up. You’ve got exactly twelve hours to get that contractor to my doorstep or I’m calling my lawyer. He’s a real class act with a penchant for courtroom dramas. He makes Perry Mason look like a teacup poodle.”
Oh, sweet Jesus.
“Lucille,” I hissed, frantically trying to get the phone back.
She swirled, swatting me away as she continued her rant.“What do I look like to you? Google? Search up Perry Mason on your own damn time. Right now, you’re on my clock. Twenty-four hours, I tell ya! You’ve been giving us the runaround for too long, and my girl here might be too nice to say it, but when you mess with the bull, you get the horns. And guess what, baby? I’ve been horny my whole life.”
“What the fuck?” I whispered.
Lucille never slowed. “Oh, you heard me right. We expect him here first thing in the morning, tools in hand, shirt off.”
Shirt off? Dear God, forget about my deposit.I was going to have to flee the country after this.
I grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”
She covered the speaker of the phone and whispered, “This contractor of yours is hot, right?”
“No!”
She looked at me like I’d suddenly grown snakes for hair. “Why the hell wouldn’t you hire a hot contractor?”
“Because I don’t care what they look like as long as they do the damn job.”
“How’s that working out for you?” She shook her head in disappointment and then uncovered the speaker. “Never mind. Shirts are required. However, considering the inconvenience, I think a little discount is in order—say, twenty percent?”
My ears perked and I immediately stopped trying to retrieve the phone. Embarrassment be damned, my deflating checking account could definitely use a break.
“Hey,” I whispered, waving frantically to catch her attention. “Tell her you’ve got connections at the Better Business Bureau.”
She beamed at me with pride. “Oh yeah, laugh it up now, honey. If my lawyer doesn’t bury you, my connections at the BBB will. I’ll wait while you Google that one too.” She paused. “Uh huh, right. Then you already know how damaging something like that could be for a small business.Do you really think Mr. Meeker is going to be able to pay your salary after I flip his business belly up?” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Then as his wife, you really understand the ramifications of bankruptcy. I promise you, I am not a woman you want to mess with.”
I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. Note to self, Lucille could be scary.
With my fingers crossed and my hopes high, I waited anxiously as she listened, her silence broken only by the occasional, “Uh huh.”
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she flashed me a triumphant grin. “Absolutely, I’ll be here at seven tomorrow to speak to him directly. Just tell him to ask for Cooter.” Her face got tight. “Yeah, seriously. That’s my name. Write it down. C-O-O-T-E-R. Got it? Mmhm. You have a good one too. Bye bye, now.”
As if she hadn’t just gone full Tony Soprano,she casually ended the call and handed me back the phone. “They’ll be here in the morning.”
“And the discount?”
“Ten percent is the best she could offer, but I’ll be here tomorrow to chat with ugly contractor Ryan myself. Should be able to get that up to fifteen percent, no problem.”
Dollar signs flashed in my eyes. Ten percent was a lot of money when you were already spending a lot of money, but fifteen sounded a hell of a lot better. “Oh my God, Lucille!” Bouncing on my toes, I wrapped her in a tight hug.“That was amazing.”
“All right. Calm down now. You’re wrinkling my dress.”
I released her, but my smile was permanent. “Sorry, sorry. I just… Wow. I’m impressed.”
She popped a shoulder. “Now that you own the place, you gotta remember the goal isn’t just to be the squeaky wheel. It’s to get the whole oil change.”
“I’m not completely sure what that means, but I’m sure it’s sage advice. You are seriously the best. Brownies and a discount? You better be careful or I’m going to have to promote you.”
She waved me off. “Ew, no. Management is not for me. You can keep that nightmare all to yourself.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She patted me on the shoulder as she passed me. “Now listen, I gotta get out of here. I have a date.”
“Ohhhhh, do tell.” I followed her to the door.
“A lady does not kiss and tell.” She paused dramatically. “We screw and tell. I’ll fill you in when I see you in the morning. Don’t forget. Seven a.m.”
My loud laugh echoed off the glass. “You’re one of a kind, Lucille.”
“I feel like I’m talking to my pastor when you call me Lucille. That’s going to be really weird when we’re talking about scrumping in the morning.”
Dear lord, this woman was amazing and insane. Dylan was going to love her. I pulled the door open, holding it with my back so she could pass. “Sorry about that. I just know another Cooter, so it’s easier for me to call you Lucille.” With an awkward laugh, I made a mental note to brainstorm a nickname for her that wasn’t slang for vagina. “Be careful. Stay safe. Use a condom.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The rain had picked up again, so she opened her umbrella before stepping out to avoid the leaks in the awning. “Oh, don’t you worry, I—shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I followed her gaze across the street.
A swirl of contradictory emotions made my stomach sink the moment I saw him.
Fucking Truett.
I knew there was a chance he’d come back this week. I’d prepped a whole “stalking is illegal” speech and everything. I was going to read him the Riot Act, tell him to take a hike, and then threaten to call the cops if need be.
However, the moment I saw him, my anger transformed into a vile brew of guilt and pity. Logically, I knew that my buying The Grille wasn’t the reason for the anguish so thick in his body language it made my chest ache even from a distance. But the poison still coursed through my veins regardless how hard my brain tried to formulate the antidote.
Clad in a black jacket with gray panels on its sides, he had the hood drawn tightly around his face. It looked like he was shielding himself from more than just the weather. As if somehow those synthetic fibers could block out the entire world, hiding him in plain sight. His hands were buried deep in his pockets while his drenched jeans clung heavily to his legs. The spring weather had warmed, but there was no way he wasn’t freezing in those wet clothes.
And for what? To follow some Wednesday dinner routine in a grease pit that had sucked even before it closed?
“Damn,” Lucille whispered. “I was really hoping the hot gargoyle had found a new place to perch by now.”
“Me too,” I replied.
“Just leave him be. He’ll leave eventually.”
I nodded absently, never tearing my gaze off him, my mind swirling in a million different directions. Why, how, and what-the-fuck warred for the forefront of my thoughts.
“See ya in the morning.” She gave my arm a squeeze before she walked toward the side parking lot.
That should have been the end of it. After the stunt he’d pulled the week before, I had every right to be pissed. Livid even. There was no reason I shouldn’t have walked back inside, locked the door, and then carried on with my life—without him. God knew that was what he’d done to me.
My feet never moved though.
I was supposed to be angry.
I was supposed to hate him.
I was supposed to feel a sick sense of relief that he was exactly as miserable as I’d once hoped.
But as my chest tightened, I unfortunately learned that emotions didn’t always follow the path you paved for them.