Chapter 9
“Hey, boss?” Harold, my senior team foreman, interrupted while I was showing Phoebe the two options she had for the back deck. My hair stood up at that tone.
“What’s up?” My team only ever came to get me if something was seriously wrong.
Given the amount of shit Winterbourne Manor had coughed up since I’d started, they’d come to get me a lot.
“Is something wrong?” Phoebe became alert.
Harold looked unsure. His eyes shifted to Phoebe and then to me. Odd.
“I can give you guys a minute if you need?” Phoebe offered, noticing the move. She was an observant little thing.
“If you don’t mind?” Harold asked, which rocked me. If it was about the house, she was the homeowner, so why would he want to speak—Ah, hell. It was probably time.
“Do you need to go?” I asked, wondering why the hell he was being so cryptic. His wife giving birth to their fourth child wasn’t exactly a secret.
Harold gave me a confused look then rushed, “No. No. Cheryl’s not due for another two weeks.”
Then the problem was…? “Okay, man. Just give me a second.”
A minute later, I was rounding the front of the house to go see what was going on.
I left Phoebe in the backyard sitting on a large tree stump going over the options for her deck. I was annoyed I was being dragged away from her. I found I liked being around her. Her voice soothed something inside me. It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous as hell, either.
“What’s going on?” I met Harold in the hallway.
“I found something in the basement and wanted to know how you wanted it handled?” His voice was low in an effort to keep the others from hearing. The house was a virtual radio of noise, so I didn’t really think that was necessary.
“So? Is there a problem with the foundation?” I prompted impatiently. What the hell was up with him? I’d never known Harold to be anything but direct. Foundation issues weren’t unexpected.
He blew out a breath. “No. The foundation is surprisingly rock solid.”
Thank God for small fucking miracles. I’d dreaded Harold’s report, but I wasn’t going to be shocked if there were issues. The house seemed to breed issues like rabbits.
“Out with it,” I demanded.
“I should clarify. The foundation is solid; however, there was some tampering with some of the stones in the cold room.” Harold rolled his shoulders. “Ah, fuck. I feel like shit for saying this given she seems nice, but I found drugs behind one of the tampered bricks.”
“Drugs?” I repeated, unsure if I heard him right.
“Drugs?”
My head snapped around, and I found Phoebe standing just a few feet away.
“Shit,” Harold muttered.
“What do you mean, drugs?” She marched straight over to us. “The only drugs I have in the house are Advil and children’s Advil. Maybe some Gravol.”
I believed her. “What kind of drugs?” I turned to Harold, whose lips were flattened in displeasure.
“Looks to be cocaine, but I can’t be sure.”
“WHAT?” Phoebe’s jaw dropped at the same time mine did. “Where is it?” she demanded.
Harold looked to me for direction.
In a surprising show of steel, Phoebe crossed her arms over her chest, which pushed up her breasts.
Despite the fact I now had a huge fucking problem, my eyes couldn’t help but appreciate the way she filled out the green sweater she wore.
I really liked the V-cut that showed off some of her creamy skin.
It was a modest sweater, and yet I found it more appealing than that bar bunny from last week with the short skirt and corset top, her breasts practically spilling out.
I’d sent her on her way, my body not interested.
But here was this small woman with her small expanse of skin on display, and I was practically drooling.
I tried not to stare, but damn…what was it about her?
“Harold, is it?” She stepped closer, moving until she was almost in front of me. “I appreciate that you work for Ty,” she said when he hadn’t answered her. “However, if there are drugs in my house, I’d like to know what and where they are.”
There was so much steel in her voice that I looked her over to see if she was the same woman.
And okay, I might have enjoyed another look at her hips and the way her jeans curved around her ass.
There was no shifting on her feet; her hands were calm and still; her gaze focused on Harold, who was the one squirming.
“They’re in the basement.” Harold gave in under that stare. Honestly, I felt a little sorry for him. Her focus was relentless on his face, despite her appearance of absolute calm.
“Show me.”
“I—” Harold looked at me.
“Show us.” I gestured, my initial shock turning to curiosity at this new Phoebe, who was striding with purpose ahead of me, following Harold as he led us to the back of the house. I was so shocked I didn’t immediately realize that she needed a hard hat until we were almost down the basement stairs.
“Fuck. You need a hard hat. I’ll be right back.” I raced up the stairs, expecting her to be waiting for me at the bottom where I’d left her.
“I didn’t even know this cold room was back here.” She turned in the small cold storage room, head tilted up when I came back down.
“Ma’am,” Harold pleaded. “We should wait at the stairs for Ty to get you a hard hat. It’s not safe without one.”
“Phoebe,” she corrected him. “And I’m what? Fifteen feet from the stairs? If the house comes down, I doubt that will make much of a difference.”
“It can make a huge fucking difference.” I stomped over to where she was. “Put this on,” I ordered, then put it on her myself, careful not to push it down too hard or catch her hair that was in a ponytail. “Is there a reason you didn’t listen to me?”
Jesus, what was wrong with her?
“Thanks,” she muttered, presumably for the hard hat, only to turn away from me, walking to corner where I saw a large brick was removed. “Did you touch this?”
“Only to pull the package a bit until I saw what it was,” Harold answered.
“Phoebe.” I ran a hand down my face. “You can’t just walk around the house without a hard hat. Next time, you need to stay where I tell you.”
Waving me off, she muttered, “Sure. Whatever.”
Sure? Whatever? “Are you listening? This is serious.”
“There’s no dust in here.” She frowned, peering as best she could into the hole.
“We need to call the police. No one should touch anything until they come out here.” She continued surveying everything else in here, which wasn’t a lot.
A large cement post in the middle of the room, some old wooden shelves that were barely hanging onto the wall, and a broom that had seen better days.
“There’s no need to call the police.” I reached for the walkie on my belt.
Green eyes narrowed on me. “Um…yes, there is. If these are drugs, they need to be collected and—actually, we should all leave. We’ve already contaminated the scene enough. But I’m calling the police.” She patted her hips and her back. “Damn it, my phone is outside.”
“Hold on there.” I caught her arm, more than intrigued by this turn in her personality. Where was the shifty, anxious woman I’d seen all week?
Maybe not all week. Flashes of her staring down her ex yesterday came to mind. Along with the way she stood her ground with Lachlan.
“Is there a reason you don’t want to call the police?” She rounded on me.
I tried not to smile. Ferocious thing, I thought. “We don’t have to call them. A cop is already here,” I reminded her, pulling my walkie and radioing for Wade.
Her mouth fell open, and I bit my tongue. Laughing at a woman under these circumstances was a good way to die. Between my mother, Aunt Louise, and Aunt Helen, I knew when the time not to laugh at a woman was. This was it.
Her cheeks turned that shade of pink I really liked, the color deepening when she glanced at Harold out of the corner of her eye.
Harold, like me, kept his mouth shut. He had a wife and five sisters.
I’d almost feel bad for her embarrassment, but I really did like the darker almost dusty rose—yes, I knew my colors; I was a contractor—shade.
It made the slight gray swirls around her pupils stand out.
I saw her hand twitch and decided to distract her before what I suspected was a serious amount of anxiety took her back over. “You never answered me.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “About what? I haven’t decided on the back patio, but I think I agree with the circular one you suggested.”
The one that would take an extra week of time to do, something I wasn’t so upset about. “Not that. About the hard hat.”
“It’s on my head? What’s there to answer?
” She frowned and I couldn’t think of another way to describe it other than “adorably.” Fuck, she was adorable, even as she was hot as hell.
This woman messed me up something fierce.
Usually, I either found a woman hot or not.
Period. No in-between. If a woman was adorable, it was because I was related to her, but here Phoebe was adorably sexy, and she wasn’t even trying to be.
Maybe I did need to get laid after all, as Wade suggested.
Putting my hands on my hips, I gave her my best “boss” voice.
“I told you to wait at the bottom of the stairs for the hard hat.” I went over the events for her.
“Instead of waiting, you put yourself at risk and left. You also put Harold in a position where he was responsible for your safety but had no way of ensuring it.”
Of all the things I said, that last part seemed to get her. Her head swung to Harold, a look of horror on her face.
“Harold, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that to you. I—sometimes I get a one-track mind and everything else fades away,” she confessed.
Harold gave me a panicked look, not used to such sincerity. Especially from a client. Usually, even the nice ones didn’t care much about the position they put us in. Their home was their home, and they’d not be told what to do.
“It’s okay, ma—I mean, Phoebe,” he finished when her eyes narrowed. “I just didn’t want you gettin’ hurt. Especially seeing as you were so nice to bring us those delicious muffins.”
I didn’t get a muffin, I thought suddenly. Well, that was just great.
Phoebe’s face warmed at the compliment.
“Yo.” Wade announced his arrival, lumbering down the stairs. “What’s up?”
Harold gave him a quick rundown of what he’d found, Phoebe adding in what she noticed, making certain to be clear she hadn’t even known this room existed and hadn’t touched anything to maintain the crime scene.
After Wade checked things out, I knew we were in for a delay and cursed.
“House has to be cleared, Ty.” Wade pulled his phone off his hip, already dialing his chief. “Get the boys out and tell them to just leave the tools where they are. Keep’em on the yard, though.”
Just when I thought I was making progress, the house had to spit out a new problem. Again.
“All right. Let’s go.” Harold and I turned to go when I stopped. “Phoebe? You need to come with us.”
Wade’s brow furrowed as he told the Chief what was going on, his eyes on Phoebe.
“Phoebe,” I called again, this time annoyed. This was serious and she needed to get her butt out of here. “Wade said we need to get outside.”
“I’ll round up the guys,” Harold offered, heading upstairs.
Instead of answering, she stepped forward, entering the room again, completely ignoring Wade’s bark for her to not go in there.
“For God’s sake, we need to leave.” Why wasn’t she listening? Unless she was staying on purpose? Was she hoping we’d leave first and then she could maybe grab the drugs? Were they hers and she was just a really good actress?
No. Hell, no, my gut roared. I’d never needed to know someone long to get a sense of them, and Phoebe Lebonaire had no idea those drugs were here.
Head upturned, she moved closer to whatever it was that caught her attention. Her hands were clasped behind her back.
“Chief is on his way. It’s time to leave, Phoebe.” Wade used his most authoritative cop voice and, like me, got nothing back.
She went up on her toes in the low-heeled black boots she wore, still keeping her hands clasped tightly behind her back.
“Phoebe,” Wade barked.
Just as he did, she said softly, “I think there’s a camera there.”