Major Renovations (Ritter University #1) (4 page)

“Hey.” Did she really just say that? How pathetic.

“Hey.”

“Um… well. They’re here.”

“Dey?” His accent. It was so sexy. And kind of irresistible. “Who’s dey?” Ski smirked. He looked so adorable when he smirked.

Crappity-crap. Sexy? Irresistible? Adorable?
Shoot her now. Time to focus. Focus on the job. Not on the David statue in front of her. “They. The inspector. He’s here, and he’s in a hurry.”

“I’ll throw on clothes and head down.”

“Okay.” She watched his muscles ripple. Who knew muscles could actually ripple? She rubbed a hand over her mouth. Was she drooling? Please don’t let her be drooling. That would suck. She stared at him as he stood there, not moving.

“Want to watch?” He smirked.

Yes. Oh please, yes.

“I can promise good show, but the inspector will have to wait.” He picked up a pair of jeans from the arm of the couch.

No, dammit.
“I’m leaving.” Her eyes inhaled the body in front of her one last time. Maybe she should rethink the no-serious-relationships rule she had going on. She’d really like to get serious with them abs. Who wouldn’t? She was only human. She turned to the door. Evil thoughts. The man would be her undoing if she didn’t get her head on straight and lose these damn evil thoughts.

~»ΨΡ«~

Chapter
Five

Ski

SKI WATCHED as the inspector poked at the holes in the walls, pulling wires and writing things down on the clipboard. The guy made his way through the house, and ended on the new front porch. Ski hadn’t been around for the inspection of the porch, but he wondered if it was always this intense.

“Well, I got some bad news.” The inspector’s pen worked frantically over the piece of paper. He sat on the step that led down to the front walk. “You used indoor conduit here on the porch.”

“But it’ll be covered by the overhang.” She looked at the offending cable. “You can use indoor cable if it’s covered by an overhang.”

“Who told you that?” Doug Johnson laughed.

“My school.”

“Well, honey, you might want to get a refund. That’s not how things work in Cedar Glen.” He handed her a bill for today’s visit. Ski couldn’t make out the amount, but from what he’d seen so far of the construction business it was probably a lot.

Anger. Frustration. Disgust.
All her emotions stomped across her face as she leaned against the house. “I can get this done tonight. When can we schedule a re-inspection?”

The guy rolled a finger over a calendar on his clipboard. “The earliest I can get back is Friday.”

“Nothing sooner?” She tried to hide the aggravation, but her face was a wide-open book.

“Friday at three. Take it or leave it.” The inspector stood up, glancing at his watch.

“Take it.”

“Good. See you then.” He walked toward his car.

Ski watched Samantha pick at the wires and drop her forehead to the brick.

“Dammit.” Barry whipped out his phone and punched some numbers. He stomped toward the side of the house. “Your father would never let this happen. This is what happens when children are left to run a business.”

Samantha cleared her throat. Was she crying?
Gowno
, Ski was going to have to kick the shit out of the elderly today. “He was out of line,” he told her in a low voice.

“No. He wasn’t. I messed up. I installed this. I should have double-checked with Bob before I did anything.”

“Ms. Thunder, we have the appliances you ordered.” A man walked through the front yard, dodging plastic and tools.

She stiffened her back and made an attempt at a smile. A poor attempt. “The kitchen is at the back of the house.”

“I’ll show them where to go.” Ski jumped at the chance to help. To help Samantha. To help remove the worry pinching her eyebrows together.

He led appliance guy around the house to the back door, and the guy pulled out a measuring tape and checked the opening. “Your new fridge won’t fit through this door.”

“How about the sliding glass doors?” Ski pointed to the glass doors further down along the side of the building. Two years ago they’d driven a go-cart through those monster doors. Only cracked one pane of glass. Samantha still hadn’t fixed that yet, but he figured it was on her list of things to do.

“Perfect,” the man said, so over they went to the sliders. They both stared at the dusty glass. On the other side, furniture was stacked to the ceiling. The pool table, ping pong table and the bar were shoved together. Metal and plastic chairs were stacked on top, forming a large pyramid covered with plastic sheeting. Okay, maybe not.

The delivery guy shook his head. “We’ll never make it through there.”

“There’s the front door.” Ski led the way back to the front of the house, back to where he’d left Samantha. “Would that work?”

The man measured the door and nodded. “This will work.” He walked toward the truck, waving to his two helpers. They promptly put on gloves and loaded the behemoth fridge onto a hand truck.

Ski hung out and watched as they rolled the handcart up to the porch and popped it up one step. The trio of lifters popped it up another step and then onto the porch, rolling the handcart and fridge through the front door. They headed to the kitchen, stopping to move the old refrigerator out of the way.

“Will you be taking this one with you?” Ski twitched with the urge to help as the men swirled around getting the job done. Disconnect the old. Reconnect the new.

“Yep. We’re full service.” One of the men plugged in the new appliance and shifted it into place as another one handed Ski a piece of paper. “We need your signature saying you accepted the delivery.”

Ski signed the form and the men and the handcart headed out toward the front door with the old fridge. A nice, excitement-free delivery. He could totally do this. He pulled the plastic and tape from the new appliance and opened the door. Cool air snuck up his arm.
Ahhhh
.

Samantha walked in the kitchen door. “Thanks for the help. I needed a break.”

“No problem.” He smiled and handed her the form he’d signed.

She seemed to be calmer. The stress behind her eyes faded as she ran a hand over the outside of the open door. “This is a great model. My last kitchen customer ordered the same one. She said it’s the top of the line. Did you know that?”

“No, our president picked it out.” But knowing him, next year the frat brothers would be paying for his need to have top of the line in higher dues. Jackass.

“It’s nice.” She smiled. Actually smiled at Ski. It was like the Loch Ness monster. He knew it existed, but he’d never seen it himself. It was amazing, and then it was gone, her head dropping to look down at her tablet. She’d gone for a whole hour without the damn thing, but now it was back.

“What the fuck!” Barry burst into the kitchen. “What the hell happened to the porch?”

The porch?

“What?” Samantha followed Barry out the door and Ski followed Samantha.

“Oh, no.” She pushed the handrail back into place, but the thing had torn away from the porch support, and a crack ran for about a foot along the length. A couple of the things underneath— Ski had no idea what you called them— were cracked, too. “What the hell happened?” She turned to Ski. Her hardened eyes and squared shoulders said so many things. All of them R-rated, and not in a good way.

“I don’t know. They brought the fridge in through here no problem.”

“What about the old one? Did they go this way?” Her eyes stared right through him, picking him to shreds.

“Well, yeah...”

“So you signed this” —she shook the form at him— “but didn’t make sure they took out the old appliance without any issues.”

“Why is he telling you what happened? Where were you?” Barry’s face was purple again, but this time Ski was having trouble caring. Barry’s asshole tendencies might make the old bastard sick down the road, but right now? Right now, those tendencies were hurting Samantha and pissing off Ski. Because somehow Ski fucked up. Somehow this was his fault.

“I ran inside.” Her voice was thin as glass.

“For the love of God, what is wrong with you?” Barry leaned toward Samantha.

“Enough!” Ski had to jump in. If this guy laid one finger on her head, Ski was going to lay him out. No questions.

But Barry didn’t get any closer. “You’re right this is enough. First you fail the inspection, and now this. It’s like
Romper Room
around here. This is going to put us behind by more than a day or two unless you planned on redoing the porch construction. I sure as hell hadn’t planned on it. Dammit.” He punched in a phone number and lifted the phone to his ear. “Bryan, I know you’re on vacation, but we need to talk.”

Barry walked into the house, growling into the phone, and looking at Samantha’s drooping shoulders made Ski want to take back any good words about the man. He was an ass, hanging Samantha out to dry. He’d actually tattled on her. Tattled. Like a five-year-old. The urge to beat the crap out of the old bastard reared its ugly head.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I’ll fix it.” He really would do anything. Not that he knew how to fix it, but they had instructions for stuff like this online, right?

“No. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone with the crew.” She slid her fingers up and down her tablet. “I let my dad down.”

She dropped to the top step of the porch, and the look on her face just about broke his heart. The porch and his heart, both broken now, and he had no idea how to put them back to together. He hated that most of all.

“Samantha. Your father needs to talk to you.” Barry walked out the door waving his cell phone.

“Give me a minute.” She pulled in a long gust of air. “Crap. Crap. Crap.” A glare of volcanic proportions met Ski’s innocent hand as he tried to help her up. “Why are you still here?” She stood and wiped her hands on her jeans.

“I want to help.” Ski slid his hands into his front pockets.

“You’ve helped enough. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

The words cut, and the tone shriveled his— well, something. Why did he need a reason to be here? He lived here. “Just trying to find out what’s going on with my home.”

“Well, things are under control.”

“Really? Because things don’t look under control.” Had he just said that? Pretty soon he’d be in line to kick his own ass.

“You know what? I get enough of that between my father and Barry. I don’t need it from you.” Her snarl grew. “I’ll get my job done, Mister Kaminski. Of course, it would go a lot quicker without constant mindless interruptions from the babysitter.”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you then,
Samantha
.” He walked past her and stomped through the front door. The smell of chemicals and rubber filled his nose.

He needed out. Out of this cesspool of noise, stench, and anger. He was through with her. He tried. He failed. It was time to just move on. If it was only that easy.

~»ΨΡ«~

Chapter
Six

Ski

THE SUN streamed in the back windows of the house on Friday morning, the construction noise a dull roar in the background, and the view of Samantha a dull blade in his back. He’d made a point of avoiding her— he didn’t need to hear again how he was in the way or wasn’t wanted. He got that message loud and clear the first time.

Her black hair shone as she sat on her bumper and wrote in her tablet. She looked amazing in this light. Hell, in any light. He was so screwed.

“Enjoying the view?”

Ski spun around to stare at his frat brother Ryan. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi to you, too. Yes, the ride up was nice, very scenic. Thanks for asking.” Ryan waved a hand. “The place looks great.”

“Yeah, Sammy has everything under control.”

“Sammy?” Ryan asked, and of course that meant she walked in just in time to hear that. Could his luck possibly suck more?

“What have I got under control?” Samantha looked Ryan up and down.

Great. Ski could almost see her comparing Ryan to him. Ryan had on jeans and a button-up shirt and his perfect brown hair was in place— well, as in place as Ryan’s hair got. He looked like he at least tried, though. Ski, on the other hand, was standing there in sweats and T-shirt, with bed head. Homeless men looked more put together.

“Hi— Samantha, right? I’m Ryan Kent. We talked last month.”

“Ryan. The deposit guy. Nice to finally meet you in person.” Samantha was all business, playing cordial hostess. Ski recognized that particular tone of voice. His mom used it at every doctor-party function his father dragged her to.

“Would you like to see the progress?” Samantha smiled at Ryan and Ski tried not to growl.

“Sure. So how’s it going with my boy here? Is he driving you crazy with his freakish intelligence?” Ryan’s eyes went from Ski to Samantha. He saw something. He must. He was always way too perceptive.

Samantha’s smile was more like a smirk now, or maybe that was just Ski seeing things. “No, not with his freakish intelligence.”