Construction Beauty Queen (6 page)

“Hi, Matt, this is Veronica.”

“Hey.” He sounded a lot less welcoming.

She forced herself to maintain the same level of cheerfulness. She wouldn’t let his lack of enthusiasm rub off on her. “Is your house intact? No one ran off with the good silver while she had free run of the place?”

“My niece can’t find her Barbie pillow. Otherwise, we’re fine.”

“Under the couch,” Veronica answered automatically.

He was quiet, probably mentally picturing her snooping under each piece of furniture.

She hurried to change the subject and keep her tone lighthearted. “I called to check on the agenda for tomorrow. What macho job do you have planned for me?”

“We’re stripping a roof.”

“Excuse me?” She’d tolerated blatant discrimination from the townspeople, her parents’ barbaric beliefs about marriage and working women, and Barney’s twisted ideas of edible gifts, but Matt had crossed the line. She absolutely was not going to stand for it. “If you want to see me naked so badly that you think you can make up a job where I have to strip on anyone’s roof—”

His booming laughter interrupted her tirade. “You obviously didn’t get to that chapter in your book yet. Stripping a roof is ripping off the old shingles, not your clothes.”

“Oh.” Of
course
it was an incomprehensible industry term. She’d made herself sound like a complete idiot and a shrew to boot. “I-I forgot my book when I left the job this morning. I’ll get it, so I can study up tonight.”

“I have it in my truck,” Matt said, his laughter subsiding but his voice still full of amusement.

“Oh,” she said again. She wasn’t sure what she thought about him picking up after her. It wasn’t quite as sexy as tucking a blanket around her shoulders as she slept, but no matter how much he protested, taking care of other people was clearly second nature to him.

“Do you mind if I drive over to your house and get it?” she asked. She definitely wasn’t going to walk, not with the way her feet were killing her from making the trip earlier.

“I’m pulling into the diner now. I’ll swing by your trailer and drop it off after I’m done eating.”

Pauline’s Diner. It was dinnertime. She shouldn’t have been hungry for a week after that magnificent omelet, but her stomach growled anyway. “I need to eat, too. I’ll meet you at the diner.”

“Veronica?” Matt stopped her before she hung up. There was a hint of mirth in his voice.

“Yeah?”

“If I wanted to see you naked, I wouldn’t need to get you on a roof. All I’d have to do is look through your bedroom window.”

…

“Come on, Uncle Matt. What’s taking so long?” Jenny tugged on his hand.

Matt pocketed his phone and allowed her to drag him out of his truck toward the diner entrance. He wished he could take back that last comment he’d made to Veronica. Whether she needed curtains on her windows or not, he shouldn’t have flirted with her. He was her boss, and his impressionable niece was within earshot.

“Hey, my favorite couple.” Pauline greeted them with a wide smile as they stepped inside the restaurant. “Take a seat, and I’ll be right with you. You’re in luck. I’m trying out a bunch of new espresso recipes today.”

Jenny led him to a table in the middle of the restaurant. He raised a hand in greeting to the chairwoman of the library board and her husband in a booth near the door and a family from Jenny’s school at the table next to them. All of them gave him a subtle headshake on the espressos.

Jenny picked the seat facing the door. Matt settled in across from her as Pauline bustled back. “I have cinnamon-mocha-apple, caramel pistachio, cherry-vanilla-squash, and hazelnut parfait espressos,” she said.

“We’ll just have the usual,” Matt told her.

“Are you sure?” Pauline’s enthusiasm deflated. “These espressos are the best yet.”

“Grilled cheese is the best,” Jenny declared.

The usual
meant milk to drink, along with grilled cheese for Jenny and the cook’s nightly special for Matt. Liver and onions was the only meal that Matt couldn’t stomach, and only on those nights did he reluctantly venture into trying Pauline’s bizarre concoctions.

Pauline set out two glasses and uncapped the jug of milk. The front door jingled, and she poured the milk right over the rim of his glass.

“You’re overflowing,” he said, since she didn’t appear to notice. The white liquid headed straight for his lap.

She set down the jug and handed him a stack of napkins, all with her gaze locked on the front door. “Oh my gosh. The city girl has come to my diner!” She rushed across the room to pump Veronica’s hand. “You are going to
love
my espressos, honey.”

“Uh, thanks. You can call me Veronica.” She shot Matt a questioning glance, as Pauline led her to a table directly in front of the door.

“I’m going to let you try one of each flavor.” Pauline rattled them off again. “And you have to give me your honest-to-goodness opinion if they’re better than what you drink in those fancy coffee shops, okay?”

“Um, sure. May I order some food, too?” Veronica’s eyes lit up with amusement as she smiled at Pauline.

“We’ll get to that. The good stuff comes first.” She bustled away.

Veronica’s gaze flicked around the room, where no one would meet her eye. When her gaze came to him, Matt nearly laughed out loud. “Welcome to the diner.”

Her eyes widened. “Are these espressos like Barney’s ‘gifts’ from the convenience store?” she whispered.

“Nope. Pauline doesn’t play favorites. She’ll try out her concoctions on anyone who’s not quick enough to order the nightly special.”

Pauline came back before Veronica could reply and set four mugs and saucers in a row in front of her, along with a pen and an inch-thick stapled booklet.

Jenny’s eyes widened. “Uncle Matt, she’s not really going to taste test, is she? Someone has to warn her.”

“I think it’s too late,” Matt murmured back as Pauline opened to the first page in the booklet.

“See this checklist? I want you to rate each of these drinks on a scale of one to ten based on the criteria on the paper. I doubt it would happen, but just in case, if you rate anything less than a ten, please write an explanation below. I have extra blank pages in the back if you need more space.” Pauline smiled widely at her.

“Okay,” Veronica said uncertainly.

“I need to check on the rest of my customers. I’ll be right back.” Pauline hurried away, a spring in her step.

Veronica raised an eyebrow at Matt.

He shrugged, but his stomach felt queasy. “If you want, whisper to her to mark everything perfect tens,” he said to Jenny.

“I’ll spill a couple on the floor, too, so she doesn’t have to drink them all,” Jenny said, jumping to her feet.

That wasn’t such a great idea, but Jenny had run off before he could say so.

She reached the table at the same time that Pauline did. “You only gave the cherry-vanilla-squash an ‘eight’ for smoothness? Why didn’t it deserve a ten?” Pauline demanded. “I used real cherries, none of that cheesy syrup the other places use.”

“Oh, I could tell that immediately,” Veronica said, tipping a cherry pit off her spoon onto the saucer. “I really like your decision to go with natural flavors. You’re right—it’s so much classier than the syrup, but it’s also a bit more challenging to make the drink smooth. I can tell you’re a woman who’s up to a good challenge.”

Matt stared openly as she smiled at Pauline and winked at Jenny, who was now standing next to her. Jenny hadn’t had a chance to warn her, but Veronica had turned the less-than-perfect score into a kudos for Pauline, all while smiling as if this behavior was exactly the kind of service she’d expected when she entered the restaurant.

“Would you like to order a grilled cheese?” Jenny suggested.

“I’d love to. Pauline, you have a fabulous helper here.”

Oh boy. Now Veronica wasn’t just pushing Pauline’s buttons. She was going after his. Anyone who could see what a great kid he was raising earned his instant goodwill.

Pauline grunted. “Do you think putting the cherries in a blender instead of throwing them in whole would help?”

“I’m not really a helper. I just come here a lot with my uncle Matt. My name’s Jenny,” she said.

“I’ve met your uncle Matt,” Veronica said to her. She smiled over his niece’s head at him. “He makes a mean omelet.”

Matt’s insides became uncomfortably warm, and he shifted in his chair.

But Veronica had already looked away from him, back to Pauline. “I think the blender will improve the smoothness a lot. I’m sure you’ve already thought of this, but just remember to take out the pits before you blend. You wouldn’t want to sacrifice your perfect ten on taste just to get the desired smoothness.”

Matt nearly laughed out loud, but Veronica managed to deliver her suggestion with a straight face.

“Would you like to sit at our table, so you’re not all alone?” Jenny asked hopefully.

Matt’s attraction morphed into unease. He’d always made sure his niece had women in her life—teachers, babysitters, her friends’ mothers—so she wouldn’t feel the sting of growing up without a mother or need to fill the void with an inappropriate role model. Yet, it had taken mere seconds for her eyes to fill with hero worship and adoration.

“She’s not alone.” Pauline sat down across from Veronica. “Now tell me, have you ever had a hazelnut parfait espresso before?”

“I have not. Perhaps…I might not be qualified to judge this one,” Veronica said, shooting Matt a hopeful glance.

“Nonsense. I’ll talk you through it,” Pauline said.

“
Charlotte’s Web
is my favorite book,” Jenny declared, a look of desperation on her face.

“Really? What’s your favorite part? Mine is when Fern saves the baby pig and feeds him with a bottle,” Veronica said.

“No way. That’s mine, too!” She swung her arm in exaggerated excitement and nearly knocked over a few of the espresso mugs.

Matt needed to call Jenny back to his table. She was getting out of hand, and Veronica seemed to be handling Pauline better on her own than anyone else he’d ever witnessed.

Pauline caught Jenny’s hand and saved the drinks. “Why don’t you run to the kitchen and ask Tom to make a grilled cheese. Tell him to bring your food to your table when it’s ready, too.”

Jenny frowned for a moment but then scurried off.

The rest of the patrons openly gaped as Veronica patiently smiled and nodded her way through Pauline’s dissertation. She must have caught on quickly, Matt mused, because she rated everything about the hazelnut parfait a dazzling ten.

Jenny came back through the dining room carrying a plate with grilled cheese and plopped it between the espresso mugs and Veronica. The cups tipped, and Pauline lunged to protect her precious drinks, but she overcorrected, dumping everything on the sandwich plate.

Jenny stared in horror. “Not the grilled cheese! You were supposed to eat that. I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Veronica jumped up as the liquid spilled over the edge of the table, leaving wet splotches on her jeans. “Jenny, is that offer still open to sit at your table?” she asked a bit desperately. “I think I’d like to take you up on it if your uncle doesn’t mind.”

“Let me get you more to drink,” Pauline said, standing up as well.

“Oh, you don’t need to go to the trouble. Just a glass of water would be wonderful,” Veronica said.

“You don’t like my espressos?” Pauline pouted.

“I do! In fact, I gave them all tens.”

“But you didn’t even try them all,” Pauline said.

“I’m sure they would have been wonderful. If you have more you’d like me to try, I will. But if you don’t, I understand.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Matt knew it even before Pauline sprang into action.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back.” Pauline bustled behind the counter.

“I was trying to save you from the drinks. I didn’t mean to ruin your sandwich,” Jenny said.

Veronica turned to her and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for trying to save me, for the fabulous table service, and for the grilled cheese, which I’m certain would have been delicious. You are the most welcoming, sweetest person I have met in this entire town. Your uncle must be very proud of you.”

“Follow me,” Pauline called. “I’m going to set you up in a booth in the back, so no one will disturb us.”

Veronica turned her gaze to Matt. He was absurdly proud—not just of Jenny but of Veronica’s ability to remain poised and regal.

“If you like, you can bring my home-improvement book to me when you’re finished with your meal. I’m going to hazard a guess that I’ll be here much longer than you. If you’d prefer not to interfere in the taste test, you can drop it off at my trailer. I left it unlocked.”

Of course she’d left it unlocked. She had no lock. Or door.

Veronica followed Pauline to the back of the restaurant before he could reply. Jenny stared after her, her eyes round and adoring.

“I can’t believe how rude city customers are,” the chairwoman of the library board muttered. “Only an ‘eight,’ just because of a tiny cherry pit. What was she thinking?”

Jenny leaned toward Matt and clutched his hand. “Can I have a pink bandana for my hair like she had in hers? Please?”

Matt groaned. “I’ll look around and see if we have one. But now you need to sit down and eat your grilled cheese.”

“Can we invite her over for dinner at our house? I have important questions to ask her.”

“Really? What do you need to know that you can’t learn from me?”

“About makeup and high heels,” Jenny said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Just like that, Matt’s appetite was gone. Jenny’s mother hadn’t worn a stitch of makeup or owned a pair of high heels. Steve and Leah had entrusted Matt to instill in Jenny their hardworking, wholesome values—values that didn’t include an entitled mentality and frivolous wants. If Pauline’s espressos didn’t drive Veronica out of town, he was going to have to push much harder to show her that the only thing she was going to get handed to her here was hard work, dusty doughnuts, and coffee with hidden cherry pits.

Chapter Four

The next morning, Veronica was wide awake early, thanks to Pauline’s never-ending supply of espressos. She ate a granola bar and a protein shake, the best she could do in her dysfunctional kitchen. She wouldn’t pass out for any reason today. Matt was going to see that she could hold her own in his world.

Judging from yesterday, T-shirts were the construction ensemble of choice, so she dressed in a pink Ralph Lauren design with jeans, along with her denim blazer, since the air blowing in her open window was chilly. The thumb she’d smashed yesterday was bruised but didn’t bother her as long as she was careful with it.

She covered her feet with Band-Aids and put on her black boots. Sneakers would have been more comfortable, but she’d already figured out that boots were expected in this industry. Matt needed to see her as a professional, so instead of waiting for him to pick her up at her trailer, she drove to the Kortville Construction office to meet him.

His truck was already parked in front of the small building across the street from the diner. She strolled inside and almost turned and dashed out again. Papers were strewn everywhere. A large desk in the middle of the room had teetering stacks nearly two feet high that completely obscured a computer monitor. If a keyboard was underneath the piles, she saw no sign of it.

“What are you doing here?” Matt stepped into the hallway from farther back in the dusty, dingy building.

“Thinking of hiring a cleaning service,” she teased. “I assume you have a method to all this and you don’t have a secretary smothered under these stacks?”

“I haven’t checked, but I assume not, since we haven’t had a missing persons case in Kortville for a while.” He stepped closer. “What have you eaten today?”

“I ate.” She glanced over the piles on the desk. One section was a stack of unopened bank statements. Her fingers twitched to open the envelopes and reconcile the number on the statement to the actual balance in his account.

“I don’t want a repeat of yesterday. I think you should stay home and rest.”

And not make it to day two, let alone day thirty? Not a chance. “Yesterday I needed carbs and protein, which you provided in stunning fashion. Do you know you’re the first man to cook for me?”

Awareness flared in Matt’s eyes but when he spoke, his tone was clipped. “Carbs and protein were
all
I offered.”

He’d actually offered her a lot more: on the floor of the trailer, laughter so strong it made her forget all her worries. The companionship of his adorable niece when she was overwhelmed with Pauline’s intensity. And the sweetness to go above the call of duty and open his home and his kitchen to her.

“It wasn’t a date, and I won’t cook for you again,” he finished emphatically.

“Gotcha, boss.” If he wanted to go the all-business route, she could suck up and accommodate. “I am one hundred percent prepared for this roofing job. I did a lot of reading last night. You’re going to be so impressed.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Okay, she’d probably gone a little over the top. “After today, though, you might want to think about putting me to work in the office.” Her blisters would weep with thanks. “I’m good at analyzing business plans and determining their profitability potential. I think I could probably even find your computer under that mess and show you how to turn it on.”

“What good would that do if I’m not going to use it for anything? I already have a fine handle on which jobs are the most profitable.”

“Most business owners think so,” she agreed, not the least bit intimidated by his curt tone. She’d seen how tenderly he dealt with his niece following the espresso-soaked grilled cheese incident in the diner. “It’s always interesting to see where the numbers meet your expectations and which ones surprise you.”

He was getting annoyed; she could see it in the tightness of his mouth. All of a sudden, she wanted to kiss it until it relaxed again.

“Anyway,” she rushed on before he could speak or she could act on her impulses, “you can think about it while we strip that roof.”

The awareness sprang to life in his eyes again. Her heart jumped when she realized that maybe he wasn’t thinking about ripping off shingles any more than she was.

…

Matt parked his truck on the street in front of the single-story home with attached garage. The Dumpster he’d ordered was sitting in the driveway, and the new shingles hadn’t arrived yet but were on their way. He glanced across the cab, wondering for the fifteenth time how Veronica had managed to produce something edible from her toxic kitchen. He refused to ask. It wasn’t any of his business.

However, in case she hadn’t eaten and was too proud to admit it, he said, “There’s beef jerky in the glove compartment and a thermos of water by your feet. Sit down and help yourself if you start to feel light-headed.”

She smiled as if he’d offered her a diamond necklace. “Thank you.”

Man, she had a great smile. He was far from immune to its effect.

He jumped out of the truck and slammed the door to resist leaning toward her and doing something monumentally stupid like tasting that delectable smile. He stood at the side of the truck, taking several deep breaths before rounding the back bumper.

By the time he had his hormones under control, Veronica had beaten him there and was pulling down the tailgate. She wrestled the long metal extension ladder from the truck bed. It seesawed as she struggled to keep both ends off the ground at once.

Matt took an instinctive step to help her. But he wasn’t her friend. He was her employer, and a reluctant one at best. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped back. The action kept him out of range of her shaky grip and from giving her a hand, but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about making her do more than she could handle.

She staggered toward the house, the back end of the ladder banging against the side of the truck. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t hit your truck, did I?” Veronica turned to look and nearly knocked him in the head with the long, unwieldy metal apparatus.

Matt ducked and inspected the damage. She’d given him a small ding near the gas door but had missed breaking his taillight…and his skull. “No damage. Just watch where you’re going with that thing.”

“I’m headed up on the roof with it, aren’t I?”

He hauled the pitchforks out and then glanced in her direction. Veronica had leaned the ladder against the gutter over the front door. She put her foot on the first step without verifying the equipment’s sturdiness, and it wiggled precariously. She ignored the warning and lifted her other foot.

“Stop!” Matt dropped the pitchforks and rushed toward the house. The ladder swayed.

He wasn’t going to get to her in time. She was going to crash to the ground—for the second straight day. But Veronica continued to teeter for another moment, allowing him to reach her. He placed his hands on her legs, ignoring her soft sound of surprise, and snatched her off the ladder as it tipped sideways.

Matt clutched her, turning her body away from the falling metal in case it shattered the front windows. The ladder timbered harmlessly into the bushes instead. He could feel Veronica’s heart thundering against his chest through both their shirts. Silky strands of her sweet-smelling hair curled around his face.

He was falling, and he wasn’t going to land as gently as the ladder.

He pulled her back to arm’s length. “What were you thinking?”

“You need a new ladder.” Her voice was shaky, making him want to take her in his arms all over again. “They’re not supposed to fall like that.”

Matt fought the urge to tuck her body against his and reassure her while he soaked in her warmth and softness. He made himself think about the expense and hassle of replacing the extension ladder. After a moment of concentration, the urge to hold her shifted into a need to shake some sense into her. Better. He could harness that energy.

“The ladder works the way it was intended.” At least it had before it toppled to the ground. “You need to learn how to set it up correctly. I’ll bring you the owner’s manual and you can read up on it tonight. In the meantime, make sure any ladder is steady before you ever step foot on it.”

…

After the ladder incident, Matt took over setting it up and testing its sturdiness. Veronica stood to the side and fiddled with her phone while she waited for him. Personally, she didn’t see a need to continue. The house already had a roof, and it looked perfectly fine to her. She’d probably only highlight her ignorance if she mentioned it, though, so she concentrated on her phone instead.

She’d missed a call from Trevor’s personal assistant. She considered immediately deleting it, but what if her parents were sick or injured and Paige was frantically trying to notify her? She took another step back and listened to the message.

“Veronica, this is Paige. Trevor asked me to check in with you. He’s not sure what problem you’re having with the engagement, but he thought you and I could talk and work things out. He has a full schedule of meetings today, but feel free to call me anytime and we can chat. The merger is very important to him.”

How could anyone not understand their problem after listening to a message like that? She didn’t want to marry Trevor
or
his overworked office staff. She hit the delete key hard, wishing she’d gone with her instincts and done so before she’d listened. Then she turned off the phone and set it inside the truck.

“The ladder’s secure now. Climb up,” Matt said.

This was her alternative—a job she was unqualified for in fifty different ways with a boss who made her feel fifty million times more than she’d ever felt for her father’s designated heir apparent.

She took a deep breath and started gingerly up the first step. It didn’t wiggle. Matt’s hand on the metal rail gave her additional confidence to climb until she was eye level with the shingles. Some were a little curled, but she couldn’t find any gaping holes.

“Move on so I can come up, too,” he called.

The book hadn’t mentioned any tips about coping with heights and steep slopes, but she couldn’t wimp out before she’d started. She moved her hands forward and put a knee on the shingles. Standing on the dangerously sloped surface was out of the question, but she could probably crawl high enough to get out of Matt’s way.

“Don’t go too far. I need to hand the equipment up to you.”

She was no expert, but that likely involved looking down. “What are the chances I’ll fall over the edge?”

“Slim, as long as you don’t dangle by your feet from the gutters. Grab the pitchfork when it comes up.” Although he sounded like he was rolling his eyes at her, he lifted the pronged metal tool high enough that she didn’t have to look down. Unfortunately, more tools followed—another pitchfork, two hammers, a bucket, and—

“What is that?” She stared as two handles and a big metal tub rose in front of her.

“A wheelbarrow. Take it. Hurry.”

She grabbed the handles, but it was heavy, and she was terrified she was going to plunge face-first onto the unforgiving concrete walkway below.

Matt climbed the ladder, pushing the bottom of the wheelbarrow with him onto the rooftop. Veronica scrambled up the steep slope with the handles, while Matt laid the wheelbarrow tub upside-down on the shingles, its single wheel pointed toward the sky. Her knees felt weak, so she sat next to it. Maybe if she’d been raised for this kind of work since birth it would be different, but going on a roof was, well, something people hired a roofing company to do.

“Just making sure I’m steady before I start working,” she assured Matt. Right now she didn’t have enough nerve to slide to the edge of the roof and climb down the ladder to leave the job. There were absolutely no railings or other protective devices to make for safe working conditions.

He grabbed a pitchfork and shoved it underneath the roof material inches from where she was sitting. He leaned his weight on the fork’s handle, then reached down with a gloved hand and ripped the shingle off.

“It looks the same underneath,” Veronica said. The picture in the book had prepared her for bare wood.

“Yep, another layer.” Matt worked the pitchfork again.

“Ah, so we’re down to the underwear in your stripping scenario.”

“Well, really the top layer was the sweater. Now we’re down to the actual clothes.” After a couple pokes, he popped out a chunk. It flew across the roof, revealing a black surface. “
This
is the underwear,” he proclaimed. He ripped away the black paper-like material that she’d forgotten the real name of, exposing naked wood underneath.

“No matter what you call it, you’re still not going to convince me this job is sexy,” Veronica said. She stood slowly, brushing the grit from the back of her pants.

“If anyone can find a way, it’s you.”

She raised a brow, her heart beating faster. “Is that a compliment?”

“Just a fact. Pry the shingles up with a pitchfork.” He went straight back to all-business mode.

She stood, frozen. He thought she was sexy in her gritty pants, denim work blazer, and wearing an expression of near terror?

“Be careful not to damage the plywood underneath. Pile them in the wheelbarrow. When it’s full, throw it over the side of the roof into the Dumpster.” He held the pitchfork out to her, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

She tried to copy his impersonal demeanor. “What are you going to do while I work? Go back to the office and clean your desk?” The state of his office intrigued her even more than the revelation that he just might find her attractive. She’d never be as good as Matt at the manual labor, but she
could
get his office in order. She could create an amazing filing system in a month’s time.

“Trust me, there’s plenty of roof for both of us.”

Resigned, she took the pitchfork. It was clumsy and other than feeding Paul Bunyan his dinner, it seemed like a useless tool, regardless of what her book said. She poked at a shingle. Nothing. “Wouldn’t a shovel work better?” She was pretty sure the book had recommended using one at some point. She at least understood the concept of a shovel.