Читать книгу Sweeping The Bride Away - Michele Dunaway - Страница 11

Mistake number one had been letting Lillian Morris, neighbor from hell and her future mother-in-law, in the front door. Yes, it would have been much better to have just ignored the doorbell and pretended she wasn’t home. But Cassidy Clayton had been waiting for the city building inspector, and when she’d opened the door, unfortunately he hadn’t been standing on the other side.

Cassidy looked at her fiancé’s mother and grimaced. Once again, this time within five seconds after Lillian’s arrival, Cassidy had been hit up to set an exact wedding date.

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, for it was always wise to choose your words carefully around Lillian, “exactly, if Dan and I want to marry this June. We haven’t discussed it. After all, we’ve only been engaged two months. I was thinking more like October. That’s eight months from now.”

Lillian Morris peered over her horn-rimmed glasses and with a dismissive wave brushed off Cassidy’s concerns.

“Darling Cassidy, engagements should be short. Yours can be even shorter than normal, given that you’ve known my son all your life. Besides, a June wedding is perfect for you and Dan. Even Ed,” Lillian mentioned her husband, “agrees with me. He’s going to announce Luke’s candidacy for senate right after the best man’s wedding toast. Of course, Dan already agreed that his brother, Luke, would be best man. It’s only fitting.”

Great. Before Cassidy could even fully open her mouth to remind Lillian whose wedding it was supposed to be, Lillian went right on. After all, Dan was her baby boy.

“Besides,” Lillian said, “Dan and I discussed it just last night and he agreed that June is perfect. Of course he wants to see his older brother win the senate race and keep the seat in the family. Luke would be the third generation you know. And we’ll hold the reception at the Diamond Country Club. I’ve already contacted the manager, booked the room and arranged the menu. We’ll be starting with roving waiters carrying trays of appetizers that are—”

If only for a brief moment, the doorbell’s ringing interrupted Lillian’s prattle. The older woman blinked, as if startled, as she glanced at Cassidy. “Are you expecting anyone?”

Even the devil himself was welcome at this moment. “City building inspector,” Cassidy replied as she rose from the overstuffed armchair that had been her mother’s latest attempt at redecorating.

Lillian nodded. “Oh, that makes sense. I had wondered why you were here. Usually you’re at work by now.” Lillian waved her hand dramatically around Cassidy’s family home.

“You must be so grateful, Cassidy, to have sold this albatross. I’d imagine it gives you terrible memories, especially with your father divorcing your mother clear out of the blue like that after what, thirty-seven years of marriage? No wonder she took off for Cannes. I’d do the same. Not that my Ed would ever leave me. Some marriages are just meant to last. But I’ve always been lucky. I hope your mother isn’t taking too much of a loss on the property. She should have fetched quite a price for this neighborhood, especially selling it furnished like that.”

Cassidy’s smile tightened. Next-door neighbors for almost twenty-five years, Cassidy’s mother had always said that if Senator Ed Morris had thought divorcing his wife was less of a liability than was keeping her, then the tactless Lillian would have already been history.

Cassidy opened the front door. The elderly inspector standing between the columns looked like a smaller version of Santa Claus. Cassidy sighed. He seemed harmless enough. Grateful for the welcome diversion from Lillian and the already insane wedding planning, she bade him to come in without shooing Lillian out. Right after that, Cassidy discovered that not getting rid of Lillian was mistake number two.

FOUR HOURS LATER Cassidy tossed her handbag onto the wooden bar. It landed with a thump, nearly knocking the half-empty bowl of peanuts off the other side. She ignored the curious look crossing the face of the man seated to her right.

“Bud Light.” The words coming from her lips sounded foreign to her own ears.

But the bartender simply nodded as if dodging flying peanuts was the norm, and without a word of judgment, she took a beer from the cooler, removed the top and handed over the longneck bottle.

Cassidy placed the cold brown glass to her lips and took a long slow slip of the golden liquid. Normally she avoided beer, but today an ice-cold one sounded like just the medicine she needed. Besides, it would serve her fiancé and his silly mother right. When she was with them she only drank wine, for in their “crowd” domestic beer was frowned upon as something bourgeois. As if millions of Americans who tossed cold ones back every night could be wrong.

Oh well, drinking beer could be mistake number three in her perfectly ordered world. With satisfaction Cassidy mulled over that thought. After all, what else could happen?

Thanks to Lillian’s inane prattle to the building inspector, which caused him to find even more code violations to cite, Cassie now had a multitude of problems all needing to be repaired by the home closing date in just two weeks’ time. If the code violations weren’t fixed, the house sale couldn’t be completed, and she couldn’t take a well-deserved vacation and close on her cute new condo in Clear Lake.

Cassidy took another long sip. The building inspector hadn’t missed a thing. She had to do everything from painting to fixing a cracked concrete pad under a screened-in porch.

Closing her eyes, Cassidy again let the cool liquid slide down her throat. Perfect. She opened her eyes. At least this one thing was what she needed, which was good because right now the rest of her life was absolutely falling apart.

And, of course, Sara wasn’t on time, and that was after Cassidy, preparing for her former college roommate’s perpetual lateness, had arrived fifteen minutes past their designated meeting time of seven o’clock. There was nothing Cassidy hated more than sitting in a bar by herself.

Making the best of it, she took another long swallow and drummed her manicured fingernails on the bar as she surveyed the place Sara had picked out. “No one will know you there,” Sara had said after Cassidy had called her in the throes of desperation. Now after seeing the place for herself, Cassidy couldn’t agree more. As an image consultant, she’d helped some of Houston’s elite refine their images, and this wasn’t where anyone worth their salt would ever be caught dead.

At least it wasn’t smoky, although that was about all it had going for it. There was no question that the place was a dive. The wooden tables had seen better days, the chairs were vinyl, and the waitress sported a tattoo under her Harley-Davidson T-shirt. All that was missing was sawdust covering the floor and musicians behind chicken wire.

“You know, most people at least try to relax when they come into a bar.”

Cassidy turned toward the deep silken tone coming from the man seated to her right. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Excuse me?”

“Perhaps, as long as you relax a little,” he said, his drawl rolling over her in waves. He grinned, and inwardly Cassidy groaned. Not another one.

Ever since she’d been a cheerleader in high school she’d attracted the wrong type of men like a refrigerator door attracted magnets. But at least this one was attractive. More than attractive.

From where he was sitting on the stool, he looked as if he would tower over her by at least a foot. His body was lean and wiry, and his shoulders were wide and broad. She liked that. Too bad his upper body was covered by a T-shirt that looked as if had been laundered too many times.

He twisted his beer in his hand, and Cassidy shivered despite herself. Maybe the air-conditioning inside the bar was set too high.

“Can I buy you another one?” Without waiting for her answer, he gestured to the bartender.

As he smiled again, Cassidy immediately gave him credit for having wide sensual lips, twinkling dimples and a roman nose that wasn’t too long. Too bad she wasn’t interested in men with dark-brown eyebrows and eyelashes, no matter how deep and sensual his greenish-blue eyes. Bedroom eyes. For that’s what they were, given the blood racing in her body. She made a show of studying her fingernails.

No, she told herself, as she tried to ignore the man’s magnetism, her fiancé Dan suited her just fine. At five-eight Dan only stood two inches taller than she. She could look Dan right in the eye. Plus he was always impeccably tailored, and his profession allowed him to keep his hands clean, unlike the man next to her, whose cuticles looked as if they’d recently seen some hard washing with Fast Orange.

Besides, she rationalized, she’d been dating Dan for more than two years now, and that was after they’d been friends forever. He’d been the boy next door of her childhood, and no one had been surprised when he’d proposed to her with a flawless diamond in the middle of the annual Morris New Year’s Eve party. Even better, Dan was easy, comfortable, not at all unsettling like the man seated next to her.

She hadn’t been this unsettled since—She brushed that thought aside. In college she’d learned that burning passion did just that—burn you and leave you singed.

Still, Cassidy had been raised in the spirit of Texan hospitality, and the man had just bought her a beer. She gave him a courteous smile and made her tone politely neutral. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugged, as if it were a gesture he made all the time. “You look like you had a hard day.”

It had been hard, but Cassidy was loath to tell him that. She’d learned long ago not to engage men in bars with idle chitchat. It always gave them the wrong ideas. Besides, would the man really care about her problems?

Doubtful. Even Dan didn’t think the fact that Cassidy’s parents were divorcing after thirty-seven years of marriage was a big deal. After all, her well-to-do parents had been estranged for years. Her mother just hadn’t looked the other way this time.

“Cat got your tongue,” he observed. He signaled the bartender. “Bring me my regular, okay, Dee?”

“Sure, Blade,” she replied with a warm smile.

“My dinner,” he offered, seeing Cassidy’s look.

Cassidy nodded benignly and pinned her gaze to the door. Just where was Sara, anyway? She was never this late.

He ignored her nonverbal cue.

“Say, would you like something to eat? The food here is actually pretty good. I can personally recommend the strip steak. It’s the best around.”

She drew herself up and chilled her posture, sending down her nose the ice maiden look she’d perfected long ago. “No thanks,” she replied. Perhaps now he’d get the idea.

At her change in posture, Blade Frederick almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it. For once he hated being right. For once, why couldn’t he be wrong?

Nope.

Not this time. He’d pegged her from the moment she’d arrived in his bar. One of those upper-crust women, slumming in an environment not her own, for reasons she felt like keeping to herself. Perhaps she was having second thoughts about her perfect life. Maybe wedding-day jitters?

His beer tasted stale in his mouth as he studied her left hand. Judging by the Rock of Gibraltar diamond on her third finger, no wonder she didn’t want to be noticed, or bothered, either.

Although not noticing her was damn near impossible.

Her suit, especially its short skirt, showed off her figure perfectly. With her long blond hair she could rival a Barbie doll for perfection. Being raised around the fake stuff, he could tell natural color when he saw it, and she had it. He’d wager money on it, and nowadays that was something he had plenty of to spare.

Since she’d walked into his place, she’d judged and juried him into a neat little box, a box he’d long ago broken out of. He didn’t like her assumptions of who he was, but what the hell. When whoever she was waiting for finally arrived, she’d be gone. Just this once he might as well act the part she’d already assigned to him, a persona he’d long ago shed.

“You know, darlin’,” he drawled, “you really should eat something if you’re going to be slamming those beers down that fast.”

That got a rise out of her. He grinned. Yep, she was one of those high-and-mighty ones. She may have him pegged wrong, but he hadn’t made a mistake. He sure had her number.

“Excuse me?” Those golden eyebrows of hers arched again, and despite himself, Blade felt a bit of glee at getting a rise out of her.

He knew he shouldn’t delight in it, but after being looked down upon by the high and mighty of Scott Creek while he grew up, it was fun to toy with a woman of her class knowing that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. No matter what, he knew her type and her game, and never again would he let a woman out of her perfect world slum with his heart.

She continued to glare at him, and he found himself staring into her baby-blue eyes. Damn, she was pretty. But they always were.

God built them that way just to torment men. Blade shifted, trying to get that image out of his head and his now tightening jeans.

“Look, I didn’t come here to eat but to meet someone,” she said in a haughty tone that bordered on indignation. Blade bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from chuckling at her. She was too cute. “And since we do not know each other, and I’d like to keep it that way, please refrain from stating your opinion on my activities.”

The smile he’d been trying to restrain cracked open. “You almost sent the peanuts flying with your purse, honey. I was just concerned for Dee’s safety. She’s the best bartender around.”

“Thanks, Blade,” Dee called from where she was wiping up a residual beer ring.

Cassidy swung around toward him, her hosiery-clad legs connecting with his. She didn’t seem to notice, but he did. Immediately.

Her baby blues flashed fire. “You think I’m dangerous after two beers? Since you have no idea who I am or what I can do or how much I can drink, your opinion is best kept to yourself.”

Worrying about her drinking was now the last thing on his mind. His mind had headed south, and he wondered if she could feel the heat rising from his jean-clad thighs simply because of her touch. He suddenly hoped not. He hadn’t gotten this much of a rise from a woman in a long time, and despite himself, he wanted to prolong it.

“Most people value my opinion,” he drawled, giving her his best wink. If he’d worn his Resistol, he’d have tipped the cowboy hat’s brim to her.

She recoiled as if she’d seen a snake. “I am not most people.”

He could agree with her there. Actually, she was different from the others he’d met of her class. She had spunk, style. Perhaps his first impression of her had been wrong. He didn’t mind being wrong, not in this case.

A slow smile edged across his face. She’d said she wasn’t most people, meaning she didn’t value his opinion. He had the perfect reply. “Then that makes you one of the few that don’t know better.”

If she weren’t waiting for Sara, Cassidy would have shown him her beer up close and personal by dumping it in his lap. She bit her tongue from the barbaric reply that sprang to her lips, and instead replied through clenched teeth.

“I see your mother forgot to raise you with manners.”

He had to give her credit. She was fast on her feet. But so was he, and he was enjoying this challenge way too much. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who could match wits and spar with him. “What I lack in manners, ma’am, I make up for in other areas.”

“Really.” Those areas were not something she wanted to think about, but unable to resist his bait, she exaggerated her Texan drawl to match his. “Too bad I’m so unimpressed with any of the areas I see.”

The electricity between them sizzled. His voice silky, he drawled, “Then perhaps you should investigate the areas you don’t see. I’m sure you’ll find something to your liking.”

Her legs pressed even more into his, and she deliberately allowed her gaze to rove over his body. “Nah. Those don’t interest me, either.”

He arched an eyebrow at her and laughed. He hadn’t seen this much spirit and spunk in a woman in a long time. He had to admit, it intrigued him. Better, she intrigued him. He had judged her too quickly, and now he wanted to peel off her layers in more ways than one.

Besides, he would remain in control. He was all grown-up and practiced in the art of womanly wiles now.

Cassidy bristled, annoyed at his obvious ease. Still she maintained her outward composure as she dug a little deeper. “What, a woman not being interested isn’t a reply you hear every day?”

“Can’t say that it is.” He signaled for another round of longnecks and his expression sobered. “Seriously, though, why don’t we make peace and then you can tell me what’s got you in such a foul mood.”

Cassidy blinked at him, her suspicion obvious at the sudden shift of conversation. Oh, what the hell. It could be mistake number four, or was she now on five? She’d lost count, and all she knew was that she needed to vent, and Sara sure wasn’t around.

Suddenly noticing that her legs were touching his, she moved herself a safe distance away. Her body immediately missed his touch, and Cassidy frowned. That wasn’t a feeling she should be having. She found her safe topic. “I had the house I’m selling inspected by the city today.”

He nodded his understanding. “I should have guessed. Hit you hard, did he?”

“Four pages worth of predications,” she replied, reaching for the bottle of beer the waitress deposited in front of her.

He whistled low. “Not good.”

“You’re telling me,” Cassidy replied, her comfort level with him escalating.

Finally, here was someone who actually understood. Dan had been too busy with some project to talk to her. Not even her real estate agent had been sympathetic, and she stood to make a huge commission from the deal. Blade’s roast beef sandwich arrived, and it did look good. Cassidy’s eyes glazed as she stared at it. Maybe she should eat something. “I thought you recommended the strip steak.”

“I do, but my usual is roast beef.” He dipped the French bread roll in the juice, and Cassidy’s mouth started watering as he raised the morsel to his lips.

He gestured with a French fry. “So you were saying, about the house?”

She blinked as the French fry disappeared. Darn her. She’d been staring at his lips! “Oh. Right. It’s all Lillian’s fault.”

“Lillian?” His dark-brown eyebrow shot up and Cassidy again noticed his eyes. Those bedroom blues had turned boardroom. He was actually interested in what she was saying. Danger signals went off in her head. Whoa, she thought. Time to stop drinking beer.

She reached for the plastic dish holding the remaining peanuts. She should at least eat something. “Lillian’s my mother-in-law. Well, she’s not my mother-in-law. Not yet. Not ever if I could help it. She means well, but…”

Cassidy shuddered. Immediately forgetting her resolve, she took another sip of her third beer. She tried to gather her thoughts and retrench. Had she just criticized Lillian aloud? “She kept talking and the more she talked, the more he wrote.”

The inspector certainly hadn’t been impressed that Lillian had been the wife of Senator Ed Morris of Texas, or that she lived next door, or that she could get him fired. He’d just kept writing, turning the paper over, filling the back, and then beginning a new sheet.

Even worse, Lillian had remained calm about the whole thing.

“You’ll just need to build a new house,” Lillian had said. “I’ll talk to Ed and Dan about it tonight. If you contracted for one now it might be ready when you come home from your honeymoon. A month in Alaska, doesn’t that sound wonderful? June is the perfect month to see Alaska. It’ll be Ed’s and my gift to you both.”

At that moment Cassidy was glad she’d never taken advantage of Texas’s concealed carry law.

“Sounds pretty bad,” the man next to her sympathized as she finished the story.

“It is,” Cassidy said. He finished his sandwich, and her mouth went dry. What had gotten into her? She’d just told him everything. She never did that. She never drank beer, either, or held conversations with strange but attractive guys in a bar. She blinked. He was gorgeous, enough to be a calendar pinup. She shoved another handful of peanuts into her mouth. Sober. She needed to be sober.

“Look,” he began, “I know some handymen who can help you out. I can call them and…”

“Oh no,” Cassidy managed through the mouthful of peanuts. She shook her head firmly and cut him off. Do not accept favors from strangers in bars. Especially good-looking men like him that would break your heart. Rule number thirteen or something like that in the Single Woman’s Guide to…something or other. “No. No.” She couldn’t believe she sounded so nervous. “Thanks for offering, but I’ll take care of it.”

Somehow she would, although frankly, she had no idea how. Maybe one just looked up handymen under the letter H in the yellow pages.

“Here.” Cassidy almost jumped out of her skin as he handed her a small card. Why was he making her so nervous? Even she could see that it was only a business card. People handed her business cards all the time.

“Uh,” she stammered, suddenly feeling the urgent need to flee and get out from his magnetic proximity. It was either that or kiss him. Where had that thought come from? She would never drink beer again. Ever.

“Take my card,” he said. Then he reached forward and uncurled her fingers. Never had a man violated her personal space like this.

But the rage at his invasion of her space didn’t come. Instead Cassidy felt heat flow through her. Underneath his touch all rational thought evaporated as he closed her fingers around the card. “Call me if you need me.”

Oh, I do, she thought, heat rising into her face. At least the words hadn’t been voiced.

Wait! What was she doing? What was she thinking? Dan. Think of Dan. That’s right. Think of nice, safe Dan who never made her quiver like this. The thought evaporated as Sara walked in the door. Relief filled Cassidy. Finally.

“Look, there’s my friend.” Cassidy jerked her hand away from his, her fingers instantly missing the heat of touching his. She shoved his card in her purse and edged her way off the bar stool. “Thanks for the drink. Enjoy your dinner.” Grabbing her beer, she tottered over to meet Sara.

With a mixture of relief and frustration Blade watched her walk away. Relief filled him because she had been one of those women and he’d actually found himself enjoying the conversation with her. Frustration filled him for just about the exact same reason. She was one of those women, and he’d been enjoying the conversation with her. Would he never learn?

Dee came over and stood for a second as they both watched the two women take a seat at a back booth.

“How was the food?” Dee asked.

“Fine,” Blade replied.

Dee’s expression, as she looked down her nose at him, said it all. “Just fine?”

“You know it was great, like always.” He shoved the empty basket toward her, his concentration still on the woman he’d just been sitting next to.

“Pretty thing,” Dee observed, following his gaze. She could take those liberties. Blade had hired her four years ago when he’d bought the place from the elderly man who owned it. Greg had wanted to retire, and Blade, flush with money, had seen the need to own something that wasn’t just concrete and steel.

“So did you get her phone number?”

“Please, Dee. I don’t even know her name.”

Dee dropped the basket on a tray beneath the bar. “You sure looked like you were getting friendly with her.”

Blade gave a short, bitter laugh. “Please,” he said, denying the attraction he’d felt, that he still felt. “She’s not my type. Heck, she doesn’t even belong here. Can you see her in the back room shooting pool?”

Dee cocked her head and watched as the other waitress, Lisa, took the women’s order. “Maybe not,” Dee replied. “But looks can be deceiving.”

He turned back around so he couldn’t see the women, especially her, anymore. “I’ve never discovered that to be true,” Blade protested, already knowing that whoever she was, she’d gotten under his skin.

At that lie, Dee simply shook her head and walked away.

“SO WHO’S THE GUY?”

Cassidy’s fork hovered over her strip steak. “You mean Dan?”

“No, not him.” Sara said. She pushed a dark hair off of her face. “The guy at the bar who keeps staring at you every few minutes. You were sitting by him when I arrived.”

“I don’t know him,” Cassidy said, spearing her cut piece of meat with such a force that Sara leaned back.

“Well for not knowing him, he sure got under your skin.”

“He did not,” Cassidy said with a vigorous shake of her head. “He’s just a guy sitting at the bar, that’s all. If you’d been on time, I wouldn’t have even been talking to him. You weren’t even your usual fashionably late self.”

“No, but my extremely late self got you next to him,” Sara said. She let her gaze rove over him, and Cassidy found herself bristling. “Man, he’s hot. I’d do him.”

“Sara!”

“What?” Sara looked taken back, as if surprised at the force of Cassidy’s reaction.

“You’re married.”

“Only until the divorce paperwork’s final,” Sara said. “Believe me, I’m allowed to look.”

Cassidy knew that. Never had she been so rattled. It had to be the beer. She stared at the empty bottle in front of her. She’d stopped at three, thank goodness.

Sara turned slightly so she’d have a better view. Cassidy watched as Sara put the end of her pinkie finger in between her teeth and gazed over toward the guy again. “I mean, he’s hot. And you know what they say, that you can tell a guy’s size by the distance between his thumb and pinkie. From the look of his hands…”

“Sara!” Cassidy put her fork down.

Sara’s brow furrowed. “Come on, Cass. Lighten up. You were never this prudish in college.”

“I wasn’t engaged then,” Cassidy said.

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t be engaged now, either.”

“Sara!” Cassidy realized she’d shouted that last one at her former roommate.

“Sorry, Cass. You know me. I call them the way I see them. All your friends are married, and now you’re settling down just because it’s the right thing to do. Believe me, I settled, and look what happened. He cheated on me right from the start.”

“I am not settling,” Cassidy protested. “I love Dan.”

“Dan is dull,” Sara said. “He’s like dishwater. You need it, but you don’t want to keep it.”

“I love Dan.”

“Yeah, as a brother,” Sara said. “I think that you’ve waited so long for Mr. Right you’re settling for Mr. Wrong. Come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t think that guy over there is to die for.”

Cassidy couldn’t get her lips to voice the lie. Instead she found another argument tack. “Yeah, but look where passion got me last time. Jeff the jerk.”

Sara nodded, but didn’t concede. “I’d forgotten about good old J.J. No offense but he was a loser.”

“Yeah, but passionate. He swept me off my feet and burned me bad.”

“True.” Sara thought for a second. “But we all go through the bad ones to find the good ones. Consider J.J. a learning experience.”

Cassidy shook her head. “I don’t have time for more learning experiences. I want children and a family. I’m twenty-eight. Dan is perfect.”

He was. She jutted her chin forward stubbornly.

Sara simply shook her head. “I hope for your sake you’re right.”

“I am,” Cassidy said. As long as I don’t run into that guy again.

She’d throw his business card away as soon as she got home.

IMAGE CONSULTANTS were not supposed to have hangovers. In fact, no one was supposed to have a hangover after only three longneck bottles of beer, then dinner and then another two hours of conversation with only water to drink before either she or Sara had done any driving home. Even that guy had left long before she had.

Cassidy rolled over and shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight pouring in her bedroom windows. Lillian’s mantra suddenly filled her mind. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Make the best of it.”

With that annoying thought, Cassidy sat up straight in bed. Today already sucked, and if today was a crystal ball of the future then she wanted no part of it. She blinked and glanced at the alarm clock—7:00 a.m. Great. Her alarm wasn’t scheduled to go off for at least another fifteen minutes.

Figured. She hadn’t even slept in.

Cassidy flopped back on the pillows and covered her eyes with her arm. Not that she could go back to sleep, anyway. The only concession was that she’d slept soundly, with no dreams of said men to haunt her.

Begrudgingly she rolled out of bed, hit the shower and within forty minutes had seated herself at the breakfast table with the yellow pages.

As she munched a grape-jelly-covered bagel, she frowned. By the time she’d finished the last of the bagel, she was sure lines ridged her brow, as well, creating a look her mother had always chided would give her premature wrinkles.

The yellow pages listed hundreds of contractors, and Cassidy had no clue whatsoever who to call.

Three hours later, after dialing for over an hour, she faced failure.

“Your problems are too small,” one contractor had said. “We don’t handle residential,” another’s haughty secretary had replied. “We can’t put you on the schedule for at least three weeks,” most had told her.

She was already at the Hs. She rose and faced her nightmare. Two steps took her to the stainless steel trash compactor. She’d run it last night when she’d gotten home.

Grimacing, she opened it up. Gingerly she picked through the remnants, finally finding the tiny cardstock paper she was looking for.

Glad the sauce had been white not red, she brushed off a leftover fettuccini noodle and read the words embossed.

J & B Construction. Blade Frederick, President.

Rather a fancy title to disguise what was probably a sole-proprietorship. She shivered as her gaze swept over the card again. His name was Blade.

She’d briefly heard it once or twice at the bar, but it hadn’t really registered. It did now, and his name fit. Sara’s prophetic words came rushing back, and Cassidy dropped the card back into the trash compactor.

She couldn’t call him.

She stared at the card, lying faceup on the congealing fettuccine Alfredo. She had to call him. She had no choice. Besides, he said he would recommend a handyman, not do the work himself.

Inaction paralyzed her, and finally anger overtook her. She was being silly. Last night had just been too much beer and too much of feeling sorry for herself because of her home situation.

She grabbed the card back out of the compactor and kicked the stainless steel door closed.

She’d simply make it clear to…Blade that she needed his help and that she wasn’t interested in any of his other services.

Besides, over the phone she wouldn’t be tempted to look at his hands and wonder if…

She brushed that distracting thought aside as she swore never to drink beer again. I can do this, Cassidy whispered the pep talk to herself as she reached for the phone. She dialed the number for J & B Construction. Besides, it’ll be fine, she told herself. After yesterday I deserve a break.