Designed for Love (Texas Nights) (10 page)

Oh my, didn’t Allie’s eyes light up at that news? And that hug she gave her dark-haired fiancé had excitement written all over it.

“Mac,” Ashton said, “would you mind uncovering the sketches?”

He circled the tent, flipping back blank pages on the six easels surrounding the group. One showcased the pavilion. The next was an art-quality drawing of the over-the-water gazebo decorated with fresh flowers. The others were renderings of a clubhouse, a public beach with a zipline into the water, bike paths, and finally, a modest yet beautifully crafted cottage.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is the vision we have for the Community at Lily Lake.”

Chatter erupted throughout the tent, and Ashton’s heart expanded. “Mac, would you say a few words?”

His smile looked more like he was baring his teeth than a genuine expression of pleasure, but he joined her at the podium. “I don’t have much to add other than Shelbyville is lucky to have a project of this scope being constructed in its backyard. Not only will it be a beautiful development once it’s complete, but it will also mean an economic gain for the community. Thank you.”

Short and sweet would do. That kind of straight talk meant more to these people than flowery phrases and empty promises. “Now,” she said, “if you would follow us to the lake’s edge for the groundbreaking, that will complete today’s presentation. Afterward, please help yourself to refreshments. Both Mr. McLaughlin and I will be available for questions. Thank you once again for coming.”

Mac escorted her out to an area marked off with barrier tape. First, he handed her a small shovel. Then, from behind his back, he withdrew a bright pink hardhat with her name on it. “Got you a little something,” he mumbled.

The knot she’d carried in her chest all day unraveled, and no doubt her smile was as wide as Main Street. “You got me a Barbie hardhat.”

“Hey, if you don’t like it, I can take it—”

“It’s the absolute best gift I’ve ever been given.” Leaning over, she planted a kiss on his jaw. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Jessup and Gigi. Jessup was nodding in approval, but Gigi was shooting her a watch-your-step-there look. Too bad if it wasn’t professional to kiss her general contractor. He was just so damned cute. “You have one too, right?”

“No way in hell would I ever live down a pink hardhat.”

He started to step aside, but she grabbed his arm. And sue her if she lingered over his biceps. “We should break ground together.”

And there was Mac’s panty-disintegrating smile. “Good thing I have a yellow one right here.” The one he shoved on his head was battle-scarred with scratches and black marks.

With the lake and the lily pads it was named for behind them, they sank their shovels into the soft earth. And oh, it felt like the first step toward this community respecting her, accepting her, embracing her. Pops of light flashed around Ashton’s vision as the magazine photographer snapped pictures. But not even their brightness could compete with her internal glow.

* * *

After she and Mac shoveled out scoops of marshy dirt, high-flying was low altitude for what Ashton was feeling.
It’s happening.
I’m doing something worthwhile.
Maybe even amazing.

She swung toward Mac and threw her arms around him, tried to dance him in a circle, but he was too darn heavy to move.

“You could decapitate a guy with that thing.” Gently, he pulled the shovel from her hand. “Or worse.” But he didn’t retreat, just let her encircle his waist. Even gave her a quick squeeze in return. “Looks like you’re a hit, and you’ve got company coming at your nine o’clock.” Only then did he step back. For a second, Ashton wished she could blink away everyone else, leaving her and Mac alone. Her in his arms.

But Ashton turned to find Allie hurrying toward her. With her petite size and pretty blue-green eyes, Allie might look like a china doll. But as owner of Personal Assets in the Kilgore house, she was Shelbyville’s resident sex therapist and was ballsy as all get-out. She homed in on Ashton with single-minded purpose, her body all but vibrating. “Your plans for the lake are amazing. Do you think you’ll actually...”

“Succeed?” That sure chipped away a piece of Ashton’s good mood.

Instead of shrinking back, Allie grabbed Ashton’s hands. Therapists were that way, treading where others feared to go. “No, have it ready soon.”

“It will be.” No other option.

Allie drew Ashton away a few steps, leaving Mac to field questions from other guests. “You’ve obviously put a great deal of thought into the project. It sounds...perfect. You said the pavilion was first on your list, right?”

The corner of Ashton’s mouth lifted. “Yes.”

“Do you think it will be finished by—”

“May 16?” Three days before Gigi’s eight-week deadline.

“I’m pretty transparent, huh?” With her natural blond hair, slim body and unusual eyes, Allie would make a gorgeous bride. And the pictures of her wedding ceremony would be a perfect addition to Ashton’s promotional plans.

“Are you thinking just the wedding or the reception too?”

Allie blinked. “You could accommodate both?”

Ashton led Allie to the pavilion sketch. “What would you think about staging the ceremony here?” She pointed to the suspended gazebo. “You could walk down the aisle over the bridge, and we’d hold the reception in the pavilion itself.”

“What about food?”

“I figured you were having Eden cater.”

“Of course, but it would be tons easier for her if she had a kitchen on site.”

She and Mac had discussed installing a full commercial kitchen in the clubhouse, but since that wouldn’t come until later, they were already running into an event-planning snafu. “Do you think an outdoor kitchen would work? Probably a large grill, bar station, maybe even a pizza oven. It wouldn’t be hidden away like a normal event-center kitchen, so the whole thing would have a more informal feel.”

Allie nodded slowly as though she was picturing the setup in her mind. “I think that might be perfect. Everything else I’ve pitched to Cameron has been—in his words—girly foo-foo. This is his wedding too and I want him to be happy. But when he started making noises about just using the bays at his garage, I hyperventilated.”

“Oh, a million times no.” Ashton imagined Allie walking through a puddle of motor oil at Wright Auto and Body and shuddered. Working on cars was a good way to make a living, but a commercial garage was no place for a wedding. “Surely you’ve considered the Kilgore house lawn.”

“Yes, but that means we’re completely at the mercy of the weather. And rain would mean shoving a couple hundred people inside the house. Can you imagine them standing between a rack of thong panties and a case of Promise Keepers for the ceremony? Heck, they probably wouldn’t even pay attention to the vows.”

“True. But you could give out condoms as party favors. Then again, that’s more Roxanne’s speed.” Not that she wanted to dissuade Allie from being the first bride to use the Lily Lake pavilion, but she wanted her to be sure. “But you always have the tent option.”

“As gorgeous as the lawn and house are, I don’t want to mix my wedding with business.”

“The view out here will be gorgeous, with the sun setting over the lake during an evening reception, and—”

“Sold.” Allie laughed. “But who will handle the rental arrangements?”

Of course, that hadn’t occurred to Ashton. She sure didn’t have the cash to hire someone else to oversee events so she popped on her I-have-it-all-under-control smile. “You’re looking at her.”

Chapter Nine

It had taken Mac time, sweet talk and extensive use of the Davenport/Chappell name to round up the subcontractors he wanted for this job. There were some skilled subs in the area, but he’d had to delve into the Houston arena for others. And not everyone he’d approached had been gung-ho about signing on. Because yeah, some people had heard he was still paying off people in Dallas.

Even with all his fancy talking and tap dancing, they were already a week behind schedule. Ashton had promised Allie the pavilion for her wedding, and in Mac’s world, that meant it needed to be ready for the punch-out work a week before that date.

He’d been neglecting the renovation of his mom’s shop, so after shoveling down a little dinner he headed that way to get started on the custom shelves and cabinets. If he didn’t get a move on, neither of these projects would be ready by their May due dates.

The door between his space and Ashton’s foyer swung open with such force that it bounced off the drywall he’d just installed, leaving a dent in it. Ashton rushed in, her hairy football right at her heels. “Can I borrow your truck?”

Granted, his old work truck wasn’t much, nothing compared to the extended cab he once drove, but it was his. And he had a feeling Ashton had never driven anything larger than her tiny convertible. Come to think of it, the woman seemed to like miniature things. Another reason he had no business wanting her. She was the kind of woman who would end up with some tennis-playing pretty boy who had his nails buffed weekly. Not a grizzly bear of a man whose calluses had calluses. “Something wrong with your car?”

“No, but I need to head out to the site and pick up something.”

The forms were up, but they hadn’t even poured concrete yet so he sure as hell wasn’t expecting any deliveries. “What?”

Her eyes shone and her cheeks were pink. “Just wait until you see them, Mac. They’re absolutely perfect for Allie and Cameron’s wedding.”

A weight settled in his gut. “What did you buy?”

“Come with me and you’ll find out.”

Something warm spread along Mac’s shin, and he caught Napoleon with his leg still hiked. He made a grab for the dog, but the little shit had the balls to scratch his hind legs at Mac, then take off to hide behind Mommy.

He and that dog would either have to come to some understanding or they would kill each other. And Mac might be about two hundred times bigger, but he wasn’t at all sure he’d come out on top in that fight.

“I assume whatever it is can’t sit out overnight,” he said.

“What if it rains?”

Mac unbuckled his tool belt, looked up just in time to catch Ashton eyeing it with an interest he didn’t think had anything to do with his measuring tape or screwdriver. The ivory-collar debutante had a thing for blue-collar men. Great. Because the guys out on the job site would definitely have a thing for her, especially if she came around in something like the body-skimming suit the color of plums she had on tonight. “You’re not dressed to go out there. I’ll pick whatever it is up when I leave here. You damn well need to wear jeans and work boots when you visit the site. I don’t need all the workers busy ogling your backside when they should be putting hammer to nail.”

That sent her hands to her perfectly rounded hips. “It doesn’t matter tonight because no one’s out there anyway. And I do know better than to wear heels on the job site. My wardrobe for the groundbreaking was a one-time thing. Now, are you going to let me borrow your truck or should I give Beck a call?”

“C’mon then.” When they approached his truck, Mac remembered the bag of trash sitting in the passenger seat. “Give me a sec here, okay?”

“It’s fine. I know this is a work truck.” Ashton yanked open the door, and the bag tipped. A landfill of food wrappers, water bottles and soda cans hit the pavement. Of course, Napoleon was interested and snuffled through the pile, coming out with a half slice of pizza that Mac wasn’t completely certain the age of. Didn’t matter because it was gone in two gulps.

“Get in.” He nudged Ashton and Napoleon inside, then scooped up the mess and dumped it into a nearby trashcan.

On the drive out to the lake, Ashton sat on the far side of the truck with Napoleon riding shotgun. Her dog braced his paws against the dashboard but looked away from the scenery occasionally to shoot Mac a you-know-you’re-not-good-enough-for-her look. How a dog could act so damned superior, he had no idea. And now he was reading the dog’s mind. They were both messed up.

They arrived at the site to find five massive boxes sitting just outside the pad’s wood forms. Shit. If those things were as heavy as they were big, his back would be one huge ache tomorrow. “What are they?”

Ashton scrambled out, Napoleon at her heels, so Mac had no choice but to follow. She circled one of the boxes, her face glowing as though she’d just come across a chest full of diamonds and gold. “They’re gorgeous chandeliers.”

Chandeliers. What? The? Fuck?

“Ashton, this is an outdoor pavilion. What the hell do we need fancy lights for?”

She rounded on him, her pouty little mouth turned down. “Of all people, I thought you would understand. This project is about more than functionality. It’s about giving the people in this community a beautiful place for celebrations. Roxanne made a start with the Kilgore house, but Shelbyville deserves more. Are you with me or not?”

Her disappointment in him was like a T-square to the heart. His breath came short and hard. Mac McLaughlin didn’t disappoint people. Not anymore. He honored his promises. Didn’t promise more than he could deliver, even under the worst circumstances. He jammed his hands into his pockets so he didn’t have to look at them. Because he could feel them shaking. Didn’t need visual proof of it. “I said I was committed to this, and I meant it. So show me what you bought.”

A cautious light returned to her face, and she scrabbled at the thick box, making no progress at tearing it open.

“Let me,” he said, pulling out his pocketknife to cut through the thick packing tape and pry the big staples from the box’s wooden framework. Once he had the top open, he stepped back to let her open the flaps.

“Beautiful. They’re perfect.” She executed some little shuffle-wiggle-jiggle around the box and grabbed his hand to dance him around it too. Napoleon circled them going the other direction and yapped his head off. Obviously, he was a fan. “Can you pull it out?”

A few droplets of rain hit Mac’s arms. They should really get these things loaded into his truck bed. Then again, it didn’t look as if they were in the path of an imminent downpour, so he carefully tipped the box to its side and eased the fixture out of the packing material.

Damn. She was good.

The chandelier had plenty of little crystal pieces dripping from it, but the fixture itself was made from a rusty brown iron. The curves of its arms were both sensuous and strong. Like the perfect combination of the feminine and masculine. Like a strong and lasting marriage. “How...” He cleared his throat because he hated to ask the question, but it had to be asked. “How much?”

The look of pleasure on Ashton’s face dampened. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure out how to—”

“How much, Ashton?”

“Five.”

Mac looked them over again. At five hundred apiece, she’d gotten a hell of a deal.

“Thousand.”

He almost dropped the fucking fixture and let his gaze land on each unopened box. “You spent twenty-five grand on lights?”

“I saw the look on your face. You think they’re gorgeous too.”

He couldn’t deny that. “We need to send them back.”

“I can’t. They were on closeout. Even at wholesale, they’re regularly fifteen a piece.”

“You’re a real bargain shopper, aren’t you?” He carefully, carefully nestled the fixture back into the packaging and slid it into the protective box. “Did you even think about talking with me before you placed the order?”

“I did, but—”

“But you knew I would kill the idea.” The rain was beginning to drop in earnest, so Mac muscled a box toward the truck. “Goddammit, Ashton, are we in this project together or are you going to continue to go behind my back to get your way?”

The expression on her face would’ve done a grouchy old mule proud. She lifted that uppity little chin, kicked off her high heels, and grabbed a corner of the box. “Are you willing to be reasonable?”

“Reasonable? I think it’s pretty damned reasonable to come in on budget.” The box weighed a freaking ton, but he hefted it up and slid it onto his tailgate smooth as silk. “If we don’t, then you lose Lily Lake.”

That brought her chin down, and she tucked it close to her chest. “We can cut some corners during...”

He took two huge Mother-may-I steps toward her, tried not to become distracted by her mermaid scent, intensified by the slow rain. “I do not cut corners. Not under any circumstances. At best, that gets you a crappy product. At worst, you end up with a dangerous one. Tell me, do you want someone hurt?”

She stumbled back, and a piece of paper fell out of her suit jacket and fluttered to the ground. “Of course not.”

“Then you will
not
make another purchasing decision without consulting me. Don’t even try to shoehorn me into something like this again. If you do, I’ll let you, your project, and Napoleon dog-paddle around on your own.”

Her lips tightened, but to her credit, she never looked away. “You’d be spiting yourself. You know you need Lily Lake to be successful as much as I do.”

“If we run out of money, it’ll just prove I’m as shitty of a businessman as everyone in Dallas thinks. That, I can do without. So are we clear on these little shopping sprees?”

“Waterford.”

He glanced down at the paper near her feet. It was slightly wadded up and the rain had already smudged the writing, but he’d swear those were his and Ashton’s initials inside a heart. “Huh?”

“Crystal,” she clarified.

“Glad we understand one another.”

“I’m no longer sure that’s even possible.” And something in her tone told Mac she wasn’t interested in trying.

* * *

Although things had been a little frosty between Ashton and him since the chandelier surprise, the job was starting to rock and roll. And the distance between Mac and the woman who could make or break his future in the construction industry probably wasn’t a bad thing.

Except it sucked.

She came out to the job site morning and evening. Otherwise, they communicated via phone. Mostly text when they could get away with it.

Mac surveyed the pavilion’s freshly poured concrete slab. Honestly, it was probably the most perfect pour he’d ever seen. And he’d seen a shitload of concrete in his day. Although it was gray and bland now, once it was stained and etched with the Texas star Ashton had decided on, it would rival anything in the state.

“Mac,” his concrete guy called from the other side of the slab. “Weather looks good. We okay to hit the road?”

Mac gave him the thumbs-up and walked to his truck where he had the job plans spread on his tailgate. Once the slab was finished, he and Ashton would hit their first checkpoint which meant a new infusion of cash from her grandmother in order to move on to the rest of the pavilion. He rubbed his hands against one another. This was all coming together. They might even make the deadline with time to spare.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” the concrete guy hollered. Those were not words Mac wanted to hear.

He took off around the truck and stopped dead when he caught sight of his perfect slab.

Yeah, perfectly fucked-up now. Because some old dude in a safari hat, corduroy pants, and army boots was strolling across the cement as though he was meandering down a sidewalk.

Mac’s feet started working again, and he hauled ass to the concrete’s outer edge. “Sir, what do you think you’re doing? That’s fresh concrete you just ruined.” From this vantage point, the man’s footprints—an inch deep at least—were obvious. They trailed from one corner of the octagonal-shaped space to the very center. “Sir, I’m talking to you.”

“What?” The man turned a complete circle, stamping a garbled pattern of boot treads into the space that was supposed to boast a sleek five-pointed Texas star. Ashton would have a wall-eyed fit when she saw this mess. If Mac didn’t beat her to it.

“Sir, you’re not only trespassing, but you’re destroying personal property. I need you to get off my concrete immediately.” Like that would do a damn thing to fix the damage already done.

The man finally homed in on Mac. “This your place?”

“It’s my project, my responsibility. And I need you to get off my slab.”

“I read in a magazine that some woman named Davenport’s behind all this. I want to talk to her.”

“You come over here and I’ll call her.”

“No,” Walkabout Man said. “I don’t believe that’s good enough.” And sonofabitch. The man sat down.

Mac jerked his phone from his pocket and hit the button that had become his second memory number, only behind his mother’s. “I need you at the site immediately.”

“I’m in the middle of filing the new plat for the phase-two home sites,” Ashton said. “If I leave now, I’ll lose my place in line and—”

“Screw the line,” he barked out. “We’ve got a problem so get out here pronto.”

“What happened?” Her voice wasn’t as steady as it had been seconds ago.

“We can’t deal with it on the phone. Just get out here.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

* * *

By the time Ashton arrived at the job site, her insides were a tangle, like unspooled upholstery thread left to knot up. This was the first time Mac had called asking her to come out between her morning and evening visits. She knew they were pouring concrete today.

But something had gone terribly wrong. That was apparent by the panic Mac had let bleed through the phone line. This wasn’t a man who got his feathers ruffled. He simply took care of business and moved on. And God knew she didn’t need Napoleon pissing off Mac when the man was already on the edge so she grabbed the carrier rather than letting her dog run free.

Lips tight and hands fisted at his sides, Mac strode toward her.

“What happened?”