Construction Beauty Queen Page 10

“Now you need to push the wheelbarrow around the house to the gazebo spot,” Ron ordered.

  She straightened her shoulders and sucked in her breath. How had Matt ever thought this woman was a quitter? She didn’t give up and didn’t back down. But he couldn’t let her push the wheelbarrow. Yes, she was wearing gloves, but the wounds on her palms couldn’t take that kind of pressure.

  “If we need a second batch of concrete, we’ll mix it right by the holes,” Matt said, walking down the driveway. “No need to push that heavy wheelbarrow through the wet yard if we don’t have to.”

  She swung toward him, surprise and that same mix of vulnerability and determination on her face that she’d sucker punched him with at the hardware store yesterday.

  “Leave it here until I set the posts in place,” he continued. “Then I’ll bring it to the backyard, and you can scrape the concrete out while I tip the bucket.” He moved quickly to his truck to start carrying the posts. He couldn’t take back what Ron had already done, but he could stop Veronica from injuring herself more.

  “You don’t have time to wait,” Ron argued. “If you don’t get that quick-drying mixture poured in the holes in time, the concrete will dry in your wheelbarrow. You won’t be able to use it, and you’ll have a heck of a time cleaning the equipment.”

  “It can wait,” Matt said with authority. He hefted a post on each shoulder. As he headed around the side of the house, he had the pleasure of seeing Veronica’s eyes slide appreciatively over his straining biceps. Just like that, every ounce of effort was worthwhile.

  He set each post in a hole and turned around. Ron was marching toward him, glaring furiously. The sexual chemistry buzzing between Matt and Veronica was too thick. Was Ron finally stepping up to defend his granddaughter from Matt’s baser thoughts?

  “You want her gone or not?” Ron demanded.

  That wasn’t much of a defense. And Matt didn’t know how to answer the question anymore, either. He didn’t like what would happen to his town if she stayed, but she wasn’t the spoiled snob he’d assumed when she’d first rolled in. “Normal manual labor is tough enough on her. You don’t need to dream up ways to make it more challenging.”

  “You’re welcome to get your heart broken again,” Ron said. “But my daughter already broke mine when she left home and never returned thirty years ago. I did everything I could to get her back. I’m not letting Veronica worm her way into my heart until I have a guarantee that she won’t run off like her mother did.”

  “Guarantees are hard to come by. Three years ago I’d have sworn up and down there was no way I’d ever raise a little girl alone in the town I grew up in and couldn’t wait to leave,” Matt said. “But now there’s no place I’d rather be.”

  “I’m sure Veronica would rather be somewhere else right now.” As if to punctuate Ron’s comment, she staggered into view pushing the wheelbarrow around the side of the house. She hadn’t waited.

  Ron put his hand on Matt’s arm to stop him from running across the yard to her. “You came back and did us all proud. My daughter never came back. She was too good for me.”

  “So, you’re going to punish your granddaughter?” Matt yanked his arm free and jogged toward Veronica and the load that was too heavy for her.

  “No,” Ron shouted after him. “I’m going to send her back to her mother, so she doesn’t break Angela’s heart the way Angela broke mine.”

  “Set it down,” Matt called to Veronica. The ground was soft, making the single wheel dig in instead of rolling over the grass. “I’ll take it the rest of the way.”

  “I’ve got it,” she wheezed. “This is construction, not a tea party, remember? I’m supposed to work, not sit around and let you wait on me.”

  “I changed my mind.” Regardless of the hell Ron would give him for it, he couldn’t watch her fail, not with the guilt eating at him for how much her hands had to be killing her.

  “You want to wait on me?” She looked up from her load, and the anticipation in her gaze tempted him to haul her in his arms and kiss her eyelids and lips until she forgot everything that had ever given her a moment’s pain.

  Before he could reach her, though, the wheelbarrow’s front wheel hit a muddy divot. Veronica stumbled, and the tub tipped. Her arms twisted as she tried to balance the equipment, but she didn’t have the strength to muscle it upright. The wheelbarrow turned on its side, taking her down, too. Her shoulder gouged into the mud. Her hip banged against the metal tub. Concrete poured out onto her leg and the grass.

  Matt’s heart sank. This was his fault—he should have stood up to his heartless partner sooner. No matter how much she wanted to foolishly ignore her limitations, she didn’t deserve this. He pushed the wheelbarrow aside while she struggled to sit up.

  “I have cement shoes.” She wrestled herself to her feet. “You could dump me in the river. No one will ever know.”

  “I’m not going to dump you in the river. It’s ten miles from here.” He strove to match her light tone, but he couldn’t laugh—not when he’d treated her so progressively worse with each job that the possibility he’d stoop that low sounded almost believable.

  “Well, gosh, that’s comforting.”

  He managed a grin this time at her sarcasm.

  “We won’t dump you in the river. We’ll send you home to your mother!” Ron shouted. “I’m going inside to find out why she’s not here yet. Use the outdoor faucet to clean up. Your mother won’t want that mess inside her car.”

  “Yet?” Veronica asked, bewildered. “What does my mother have to do with anything?”

  Ron slammed the back door in reply.

  She turned to Matt. “Does concrete wash off, or did I permanently gain fifty pounds?”

  He brushed his thumb over the mud on her cheek. “It washes off, but you’re not going to like it. You’ll have to hose down your clothes. If you don’t want to strip, we’ll have to do it with you in them.”

  Her blue eyes widened in horror. “Hose down my clothes? You’re joking, right? Is this one of your industry terms that translates to ‘build a two-story gazebo with six birdhouses in the backyard and have it done by noon’?”

  “I wish.” He wanted that hot appreciation back in her gaze when she looked at him, not this humor.

  Veronica closed her eyes and sank to her knees. “Ron hates me. I thought he was the first person to ever believe in me, but he wants to see me fail more than anyone.”

  Matt kept his hands steady on her arms and lifted her to her feet. Right now, he would do anything to erase the defeat on her face. He wanted the woman back who believed no obstacle was too big to overcome. “I don’t think his motives have anything to do with you. He still seems fixated on the fact that your mother broke his heart when she left home.”

  “Don’t attempt to convince me he has a heart.” Her voice took on a hard edge Matt hadn’t heard before. “If he treated my mother this way, it’s no wonder she hasn’t spoken to him for my entire life.”

  Matt swallowed. “How about we make a deal? I won’t try to convince you if you don’t let his bitterness taint you.”

  She studied him for a moment. He could feel her resolve strengthen as she held up her weight instead of relying on his hands. “You’ve got a deal, with these conditions. I’ll hose myself down. Then I’m going back to the trailer and crawling under the covers. I’m going to start this whole day over again; I don’t care who’s supposed to be the boss. I’ll decide what job I’m going to spend my day on.”

  The woman of steel determination was back. Veronica marched to the faucet and twisted the knob. The hose jerked and rippled with the hard stream of water pumping through it. She picked up the nozzle and pointed it at her shoes. The water splattered up to her face.

  She flinched but moved the hose higher up her legs. “Oh my gosh, this is cold. So cold, and it stings. Is there a temperature adjustment?”

  “It’s an outdoor faucet,” Matt reminded her. “Cold is the only option.”

  Pro
priety demanded he look away. But as the water hit her body and splashed in every direction, it drenched her pale pink shirt. Matt wasn’t a testosterone-laden teenager hoping for a wet T-shirt contest, but his body reacted like he was.

  Veronica shivered so much that she dropped the hose, shooting water over the muddy grass and onto his boots. She made no move to pick it up and finish rinsing.

  “Your left side is still completely covered.” He didn’t want this job. Right now, he’d give up his half of Kortville Construction to wrap her in a towel and warm her abused flesh, instead of doing what he had to do. Grimly, he picked up the hose and pointed it at her.

  The concrete slowly came off, thanks to his merciless pounding. He’d rather turn the hose on himself—maybe it would cool his own body down.

  “So this is how the Kortville Mafia takes care of its victims. Next time give me the cement shoes and throw me in the river.” She should have looked like a drowned rat. Instead the water sparkled off her in the sun, and she looked like a glorious water queen.

  He flicked off the nozzle. “Is all the residue gone?”

  Concrete was drying in the wheelbarrow and the grass, empty postholes littered the yard, a muddy river flowed next to the faucet. But all Matt could think about was taking Veronica in his arms and burrowing under her covers with her.

  “How would I know? I can’t feel my skin.” She shivered uncontrollably, which took away from her royalty but not her sparkle, as she peeled off her gloves.

  “Your hands are bleeding.” The evidence stained the wet gauze. He set the hose down and gave in to his need to hold her. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I take complete responsibility.”

  She tucked her hands behind her back and stepped away from his embrace. “You’re responsible for my klutzy walking and astounding ability to lose control of a wheelbarrow?”

  “Veronica.” He reached for her hand. “Please.” He needed her to let him touch her, not just to ease his thick wad of guilt, but because he was a man who took care of and protected others. He needed her to give him another chance to do that.

  Her gaze warmed as soon as he said please, and she stopped moving. “I’m not really going to spend the day under the covers. I’m taking an early lunch hour. Then I’ll go to the office to put in the rest of my time. All I need is a little favor from you.”

  “Anything.” He closed the distance between them again and settled his hand on the small of her back.

  Her breath slid in and out shakily. He’d like to think it was from his touch, but his ego wasn’t that overblown. The morning’s ordeal was the only thing on her mind. “Explain to Ron that you’re doing the job without me. I’m not returning to his house.”

  She was not, however, stomping back to Chicago, either, vowing never to set foot in his town again. Ron might be immune to her grit and charm, but Matt wasn’t. He stepped closer and brought the hand that wasn’t resting on her back up to brush a drip of water from her cheek.

  “Take the next two days off, along with the rest of today. Kortville Construction doesn’t work on Saturdays or Sundays, unless there’s an emergency. Go with your plan to crawl under the covers for the rest of the day.”

  “There aren’t enough blankets in the trailer to get rid of this chill.” Her eyes focused on his lips. She was battered and soaked, all but begging him to warm her up.

  There was nothing Matt wanted more. If they were going to start something, he wanted to be the one taking the initiative, not following blindly.

  He pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips were cold, but soft and sweet, and they warmed instantly to his touch. He cupped his hand against her wet cheek. She shivered in response, her breath steamy and shaky against his mouth.

  Matt released her and stepped back. He had no choice. His body was nanoseconds from shaking, just like hers, and he didn’t have the excuse of being freezing cold. He rubbed his hand over his face, praying it wasn’t trembling.

  Everything he tried with her spiraled out of control.

  …

  In two short hours, with an astonishing amount of stupidity, Veronica had managed to ram her independence completely into the ground. She’d failed to hold up her end of the workload—literally. Not only had she turned the job into a slapstick disaster, she’d let Matt hose her down like a piece of machinery, and then acted so needy he kissed her.

  Ron was waiting for her at the front of the house, leaning on his cane with obvious disapproval. “Your mother is on her way here to take you home.”

  Her skin was bruised and icy, her muscles aching, and her pride raw. But it was frustration that finally got the best of her. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know why you keep bringing her up. You and I had a deal that has nothing to do with her, and I intend to honor it. Are you going back on your word?”

  “Of course not. You’re the one who can’t—”

  “Good. Then call my mother, and tell her you made a mistake. I’m already home.”

  With her head held high, she walked to her car parked in the street. She couldn’t stop her eyes from stinging, but she turned her head away so he wouldn’t notice.

  Matt bounded out of Ron’s house with a big blue blanket over his arm.

  She wished she’d left before he could join her. She needed so badly to be alone, where she could sort through her humiliation and craving for Matt.

  “Wrap this around you.” He set the blanket, which turned out to be a hand-knitted afghan, around her shoulders. “Get in the truck. I’ll drive you to your trailer.”

  She hugged its warmth to her chest, willing her teeth to stop chattering. “I’m not leaving my car here. He’ll have it towed.”

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.” Matt kept his gaze steady on her, even when Ron snorted rudely. “In the past three days, you’ve nearly fallen off a roof, passed out in the grass, and swam in concrete. Not to mention your hands are the consistency of raw hamburger and your feet probably aren’t much better. You’re not in any condition to drive.”

  The only reason her driving ability was in question was because the kiss had rattled her reactions and senses beyond comprehension. But if Matt hadn’t already guessed the truth, she still had enough pride left to keep it to herself.

  “I’m not out to ruin your job. I’m well aware physical labor is my weakness. No one is more eager than I am to work in the office where I can capitalize on my strengths. When my month is up, I will leave Kortville Construction in better condition than it was when I came, and you can thank me then.” She marched to her car.

  “You have to contribute something to make things better. You haven’t done anything that proves you have anything to offer,” Ron called, limping down the driveway toward her. “And don’t you dare leave with that blanket, or I’ll call Connor O’Malley and report you for theft. Your grandmother knitted that herself.”

  Veronica folded the blanket and marched back, setting it in his arms. Then she returned to her car, turned the ignition—letting it grind for a full minute before it finally caught—and backed out of the driveway.

  As she drove to her trailer, her mind raced. Staying at a job site she had no qualifications for wouldn’t prove anything except that Ron was right. Well, she wasn’t going to let him and Matt blow off her real skills the way her parents had.

  Trevor had blown her off, too, in favor of his many meetings and business contacts that were always a higher priority than her. She had a lot to offer, both personally and professionally. It was time she took action and made a man see that, instead of letting him lead the relationship in the direction he wanted it to go.

  Speaking of men, she realized Matt was following her in his truck. Her Olds crunched over the gravel in the trailer park and stopped in front of her trailer. As he pulled in directly behind her and got out of his truck, she stepped out of the car and squared her shoulders.

  “I know you probably want some time alone,” he said. “But I want you to think about this.”

  She tried not to sh
iver. If he’d decided he had something important enough to say that he followed her across town, it couldn’t be good news.

  “I know you have good intentions,” Matt continued gently. “But Kortville Construction doesn’t need you. The distribution center doesn’t need you. You’re better off taking your strengths somewhere that appreciates them.”

  Well, now she knew the direction he wanted her to go—straight out of town and down the interstate. “Really? You don’t appreciate my strengths? You don’t need me?” She sauntered to him, not stopping until her body was flush with his. “So, then can you tell me you don’t need this?”

  She pressed her lips to his. This time she was taking the initiative. She’d decide how fast and far she wanted to go, and she’d decide when she had enough and end it. Except her control melted as her body brushed his hard muscles and her mouth molded against his soft lips. The delicious, sweet taste of him consumed her.

  She disentangled her limbs from Matt, horrified that she hadn’t taken control of anything. She’d simply been carried away by instinct and desire. Her only saving grave was that Matt’s glazed eyes and swollen lips proved he’d been swept up as much as she had.

  She wanted so much more than she could ever have, and right now none of it had anything to do with career plans and independence.

  Veronica showered and changed, the one thing she excelled at in the construction business. She was also at the end of her stack of clean clothes. She would have to check out the Laundromat that evening. But first, she needed to go into the Kortville Construction office. She’d found her way around the place yesterday. Now she was going to make her mark on it.

  She walked outside to her car and grimaced. She was finally dry, but the driver’s seat was soaked from the short drive to the trailer. She should have kept Ron’s blanket and taken her chances with the police.

  She squared her shoulders. A wet seat was a minor inconvenience compared to the aches and pains of muscles she never knew she had and which were now threatening to immobilize her. She wouldn’t crumple, no matter how close to the edge she felt.