Laying a Foundation: Bonus volume: Includes series prequel, The Groundbreaking (The Love Under Construction Series) (15 page)

Damn,
Tony thought.
I didn’t even introduce myself – how stupid.
“Tony. Tony Walters. I’m sorry, you’re Nikki?”

“Yeah. Nikki Wilkes.” She reached out her hand to shake his and he wished he’d had a chance to wipe the sweat from his palms before they touched. Her hand was small and delicate, with long fingers and beautiful nails, and when their palms touched he got the impression that something more than an introduction had passed between them. When he let go, she wrote the date and his name on the receipt. “And this is going to Annabeth Walters,” she repeated to herself out loud as she wrote, “over on Thrush Lane. I’m sorry – I can’t remember the house number.”

“Actually, it’s going to her work, Grayson Motors over on Taylorsville Road. She’s their financial agent.”

“Good! We have a delivery over on Taylorsville already scheduled for this afternoon, so we’ll take hers too. Pick out a card and we’ll include it.” Nikki pointed to the little rack at the other end of the counter.

Tony picked out a small birthday card and wrote in it:

To my beautiful Annabeth,

I hope you have a happy day today and every day.

I love you,

Dad

“There,” he said, handing the tiny card to Nikki. “That oughta do it.”

“Beautiful choice,” she told him as he handed her his credit card. The transaction was almost over, and so was his contact with her.
Should I ask her out? I don’t know what to do.
Indecision swallowed him. He didn’t want to leave, but he was afraid she’d laugh and turn him down flat if he asked her out cold turkey. Why could he make a five-minute decision on hundreds of thousands of dollars, but couldn’t ask a woman to dinner? Had Dottie really done that much damage?

“Sign right here, please,” she said, handing him the receipt.
Do something!
his brain was yelling, but his hands were shaking as he signed and handed it back. “Thanks and let us know if she’s not happy, okay? We’ll want to make it right.”

“Will do.” It was all he could squeeze out. He could feel his face getting flushed. And he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Well, have a nice day, Tony Walters. Guess I’ll see you at the gym, huh?” She smiled that smile again and looked down at her feet. His heart was hammering.

“Yeah, see you at the gym,” he mumbled. He stood there looking at her for an awkward moment, then turned and hoofed it to the door. When he made it to the sidewalk and the door closed behind him, he realized he’d been holding his breath. Why had he been so nervous? What was it about her that made him feel like a complete imbecile? Had she noticed how tense he was? He’d really screwed up. He hadn’t asked her out. But did he want to go out? He hadn’t given it serious consideration in a long time.

Once Tony was gone, Nikki finally took a breath. She’d barely been able to slip the receipt in the cash box because her hands had been shaking so hard. He probably thought she was some kind of freak because she’d acted so weird. She’d treated him like any other customer, but she’d wanted so much to talk to him, to find out what he was like. Was he as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside? She’d never seen a man so gorgeous. But it looked like he was just being kind. She tried to concentrate on how pleasant he’d been, not how disappointed she was. Kelly was wrong – he wasn’t interested in her at all, just ordering a gift.

Tony walked across the street and got into his truck, trying to think of an excuse to go back inside, but he couldn’t come up with anything. So he sat, head on the steering wheel, mentally kicking himself for not having the balls to come right out and ask her to dinner.

Across the store, Nikki called out to Carol, “Going to the bathroom.” She shut the door and let the tears fall. How ridiculous – someone like him wouldn’t give her a second look.

Tony started his truck and pulled out onto the street. At least he’d see her at the gym. He had to work up some courage. He never thought he’d want to date anyone, but if there was a chance she might say yes to going out with him, maybe it was time to give it a try.

“Oh, Daddy, the flowers are beautiful!” Annabeth was practically singing over the phone.

“Like them? Send me a picture of them. I’d like to see,” Tony grinned into the phone.

“I will!” She hesitated. “So, did you meet Nikki?” Annabeth asked.

She wasn’t going to give it a rest, so he figured he might as well tell her. “Yes, actually, I did,” he answered.

“And?”

“Turns out she goes to my gym. I recognized her when I walked into the shop.”

“Really? That’s cool.” It sounded like Annabeth was eating something.

“Are you eating birthday cake?” Tony asked.

“Actually, birthday cupcake. Katie picked them up for us. They’re very good. Stop by and have one, why don’t you?”

“I think I’ll do that.” He started straightening up his desk. “I’ll be there in a few.”

“Clayton and Brittany are here. We’ll save one for you. But only one. And if you take too long to get here, well, no promises!” she laughed into the phone.

“On my way!” He shoved his phone into his pocket, snatched his jacket from the sofa, and headed toward Thrush Lane.

Annabeth waltzed back into the living room of the little house, grinning, cupcake frosting all over her mouth.

“Annabeth Maria Walters! What have you done?” Katie cried out. “I can tell you’re up to something. Who did you call?”

“Dad.” She wiped frosting from her face with her finger and sucked it off. “I called to tell him thanks for the flowers.” She grinned even wider. “He got them at The Passionate Pansy.”

“Oh my god!” Katie squealed. “Did you . . . ? I know what you did! And?” Clayton and Brittany stared at the two of them.

“It worked! She actually goes to his gym! Can you believe it?” She held up her hand and Katie high-fived her.

“She? Who?” Clayton asked.

“Clayton, I think your sister’s playing matchmaker,” Katie laughed.

“With . . . ?”

“With Dad!” Annabeth shrieked, jumping up and down.

“No way!” Brittany squealed with delight. “Out with it!”

“B
oss, I hate to tell you this, but She Who Shall Not Be Named just pulled up.” Tony could hear Cheryl rustling around as she talked, trying to retreat to another work space.

“Aw, shit,” Tony muttered, throwing his pencil across the room. There went a perfectly good day.

She hit the office door like a bulldozer crashing into the wrong house. “Hey, Cheryl, Tony in his office?”

“Uh, yeah, I think . . .”

“Good. We need to have a little talk.” Dottie took two pieces of candy out of Cheryl’s candy dish, unwrapped one, and threw the wrapper back onto Cheryl’s desk, then walked straight into Tony’s office.

“Dottie.” He didn’t bother to ask how she was; he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t even stand. He reserved that sign of respect for those who deserved it, and she wasn’t included in that group.

She didn’t bother to ask how he was either, just threw her sloppy form down into the chair in front of his desk and crossed her legs. “I need two thousand dollars,” she announced, unwrapping the second piece of candy and tossing the wrapper onto Tony’s desk.

“And you’re here why?” He leaned back in his desk chair. God, she was a loathsome creature. He couldn’t believe he’d actually loved her at one time.

“Because. You’re my husband. You’re supposed to give me what I want.”

“In case you don’t recall, we haven’t been married for sixteen years,” Tony scowled, refusing to look at her.

“We took vows! We’ll always be married in God’s eyes,” Dottie railed.

“Oh, I see. We’re married when you want money and not married when you want to fuck someone else. How exactly does that work, Dot?”

“Do you have to remind me of every horrible thing that’s happened between us? God, Tony, you’re so hurtful!” Dottie whined and pouted, looking to drop some guilt on him. And she failed miserably.

“I’m hurtful? Me?” He could feel his ire starting to rise. “Look, I’m not giving you any money. Go ask the husband of the week for whatever you want. By the way, who is it this week?” He glared at her.

“Well, that’s really nice of you,” she spat sarcastically. “You know Hector and I are separated.”

“Who’s Hector?” That was a name he hadn’t heard before. This was her third since him? Fourth? Tony had lost count.

“Oh, you’re so damned self-righteous, aren’t you?” Dottie turned like the flip of a switch. Her Jekyll-and-Hyde brain was hard to follow. “Just because nobody wants you, you can’t believe anyone would want me. I can’t help it that you’re old and fat and have a big nose.”

“Me? That’s a joke. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” He knew she was full of shit, that she was sick and made everyone around her sick, but her words still stung. She’d spent so many years tearing him down, no wonder he couldn’t bring himself to ask anyone out. He looked in the mirror and saw a guy who looked perfectly fine, but he heard her words in his head and they tore him down again and again. He had to find a way to silence her voice permanently. “Dottie, I’m done. Go. I’m not giving you anything.” He pointed at the door.

“And what do you think your kids will say when they find out their mother is homeless because you wouldn’t give me a little bit of money, like you don’t have it or something?” She rose and shuffled toward the door. On her way out, she stuck out her arm and swept it down his credenza, knocking over framed photos, certificates, and a lamp.

“At least you got the ‘my kids’ part right. And my kids will say it was about time I told you to go to hell,” Tony growled, looking away from her. She cleared her throat and he turned to see what point she was trying to make.

She stopped in the doorway, turned, and pulled up her blouse to flash both of her breasts, leering at him. Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, get the hell out, Dottie.” She pulled her blouse back down, shot him a hurt look, and walked out of the office, her ass swaying back and forth, until she finally disappeared out the door.

“Sweet jesus, I saw that. And I wish I hadn’t.” Cheryl was grimacing when she appeared in Tony’s doorway. He folded his arms on the desk and rested his face on them, unable to look Cheryl in the eye. “Did she really . . . ?”

“Yeah. She did.” Tony didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or sick. He’d almost give Dottie whatever she wanted if it guaranteed she’d leave town and he’d never see or hear from her again, but she’d just come back, wanting more. Homeless? The two thousand was probably for another divorce. “You know how she is. I’m sorry, Cheryl. I’m sorry you have to deal with that, sorry you had to see it, sorry I ever married her.”

“Oh, hon.” Cheryl sat down in the chair in front of his desk and patted his arm. He looked up at her, his face drawn and tired. “Oh, don’t let her rattle you. And don’t apologize to me. She’s crazy – everyone knows that. And don’t you listen to her, you hear me? You’ll find someone special, I just know it. Of course, you kinda have to go out and look, don’t you?” She smiled warmly at him. If he’d had a sister and could’ve chosen her, Cheryl would’ve been his first choice.

“Yeah, right.” He shook his head. “I don’t stand a chance. Sometimes I don’t think I can get out of bed in the morning. I hear her voice in my head and, I don’t know, I just . . .” He put his head back down and closed his eyes.

“You’ve got to get past that. You can do it. You’re a good-looking guy and women drool after you. Any woman would be lucky to have you.” Cheryl patted him on the arm again and stood. “You don’t want to be alone for the rest of your life, do you?” she asked as she walked out.

Did he want to be alone? No. He didn’t. He had to find a way to ask Nikki out. He was tired of being alone. He’d do it even if it killed him.

“W
hat’s the deal with all of this stock?” Nikki called out to Marla. “I’ve got two cartons of dual-colored mugs here.”

“Secretary’s Day is tomorrow,” Marla reminded her as she came through the stockroom door.

“Oh, yeah. I guess we’re going to get hit today, huh?” Nikki took the mugs out of the boxes and put them on the shelf by color. There were pink ones lined with yellow, purple lined with green, and blue lined with orange, sixteen of each – four dozen. “Do you think we’ll have enough?”