Prejudice Meets Pride (23 page)

Emma loved that he thought of the girls—and her. He’d just taken away the one drawback to this project, and she could have kissed him for it. Actually, she
would
kiss him for it. Later. “As long as I have everything ready to go, five days should be enough time.”

“I’m also planning to give you an advance.”

When Emma opened her mouth to argue, his fingers rested against her lips, shushing her. “It’s what any professional would expect for a job like this, Emma. It isn’t a handout, it isn’t a favor. It’s just smart business.”

When she didn’t try to argue, his hand dropped from her lips, but he was still standing close. Too close. The smell of soap, mixed with a hint of something spicy, invaded her senses, clouding her thoughts.

“I’ll also give you a company credit card that you can use to buy all the supplies you’ll need. Then once you’re finished, I’ll pay you the rest.”

Why didn’t he seem ruffled by her close proximity? It wasn’t fair. Emma took a step back to put some distance between them. Then she pulled out a measuring tape and handed Kevin the end, gesturing for him to hold it against the far wall.

“What do you think of an Under the Sea theme?” she asked as she wrote down the measurement.

“You want to paint fish all over the walls?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“I don’t know.” He held the tape against another wall, and she pulled it taut, writing down another measurement. “Won’t that be overkill with the aquarium? I was thinking more of a fantasy type thing—like you did for the girls. Only less girly. You know, dragons, ogres, princesses in towers, magic carpets, unicorns?”

Emma smiled. “And your aquarium would hold what? Dragon food? Or did you want to throw in a few mermaids to tie it in?”

Kevin eyed the tank as though considering his options. “We could always get rid of it. It’s kind of a pain to keep up anyway.”

“It would be more of a pain to remove it,” she argued. “Besides, it’s beautiful and colorful, and what kid doesn’t love watching those pretty fish dart around in there? It makes
Finding Nemo
come to life. And with fish on the walls as well—it’ll look awesome.”

Still not looking entirely convinced, Kevin finally shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to trust your judgment on this. Under the sea it is.”

“That was easy.”

Kevin’s mouth pulled into a half smile. “What can I say? I’m in an agreeable mood today. The way I see it, the sooner we figure out a game plan, the sooner I get to kiss you again. Unless you’re okay with taking a quick break.” He started moving toward her.

She held out a hand to stop him. “No, not yet. You have to stay over there. I can’t think when you’re too close.”

“Close is a relative term,” said Kevin, stopping in front of her. “How close is too close?”

She pointed her pen at him. “That’s too close. Now back off and let me think for a second.”

Kevin chuckled and dropped down on the couch, resting his hands behind his head. “Better?”

“Yes.”

Emma considered the room once more, letting idea after idea flow through her mind. She dismissed some, mulled over others, and built on the few that remained. Finally, she smiled. “What would you think about building a wall in that corner?”

He frowned. “A wall? Are you serious? Why?”

“Nothing major, just a small one set at a forty-five degree angle.” Emma walked over and pointed to where she was talking about. “It’ll make a fun little hidden area back here that the kids will love. I’ll paint it to look like a sunken ship, and you can hide your little bookcase and Lego table behind it.”

“The Lego table is about to go bye-bye,” said Kevin. “I took your advice and bought one of those train tables. It should arrive any day now.”

“Really?” Emma liked that he’d taken her advice. It felt good. Like she was finally giving back.

“It was a good idea.” Kevin leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knee. “So a ship, huh?”

“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “Like an old, rotted pirate ship with portholes and an anchor and everything. What do you think?” She could see the hesitation in his expression—the concern that she was thinking much bigger than he was. “You did say I could do whatever I wanted.”

“I was talking about murals, not… building walls.”

She plopped down next to him and grabbed his hands. “C’mon, we can easily get it done this weekend.”

An eyebrow lifted. “When you say we…?”

“I mean you and me.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He shook his head slowly, as though she made life so much more complicated than it had to be. “Emma, I’ve never built a wall in my life.”

“I have,” she said. “All we’ll need is a dozen two-by-fours, some sheetrock, mud and tape, a sanding block, and a few cans of texture.” She tapped her foot against the hard, carpeted floor and pursed her lips. “And we’re going to need a framing gun and a concrete nailer.”

Kevin’s eyes widened as if to say
That’s all?
“Are you sure about all of this?”

“Positive.”

He shook his head as if to clear it, probably wondering what he’d gotten himself into. “I guess it’s a good thing a friend of mine happens to be a general contractor.”

She grinned. “When I’m through, you’re going to have the most amazing waiting room in the city. Now let’s go see about that large examination room behind that aquarium. It’s going to need some work as well.”

“Whoa—what?”

“Trust me, Kevin. Just trust me.”

There was something immensely satisfying about building a wall and changing a room. Kevin was hooked and suddenly found himself contemplating some changes he’d like to make to his own place, like changing the entrance into his closet from the bedroom to the bathroom or tearing out the closet in his office to make the space bigger. Maybe Emma would have some ideas on how to spruce his place up a bit. Maybe they could even work on it together. Friday had never flown by so fast.

Kevin sank another screw into the drywall and frowned. Unsatisfied, he flipped the switch on the drill to reverse and backed it out.

Emma poked her head around from the back side of the wall, holding drywall tape. “For the love of Pete! Will you stop that, already?”

“It was crooked,” he said.

She groaned. “How many times do I have to tell you it doesn’t matter? As long as it hits the two-by-four, we’re good. Everything else will be hidden behind mud and tape.”

“Hey, if I’m going to take some of the credit for building this wall—which I fully intend to do—it has to be done right. So if I want to fix a crooked screw, I’m going to fix it, okay?”

“No, not okay. We don’t have time to get every screw perfectly straight—especially when they don’t need to be straight. The girls will be coming home soon, and we still need to apply the first coat of mud if we want this to be done by Monday.”

Ignoring her, Kevin righted the screw and drilled it back in, more evenly this time.
That’s more like it,
he thought. Fishing another screw from his pocket, he set down the drill and picked up the tape measure, using it to mark off the spot where the next screw should go.

“Are you seriously measuring every screw?”

“You said they need to be sixteen inches apart.”

“I said
about
sixteen inches. Just eyeball it.”

Kevin shot her a look. “I don’t eyeball things. If they’re supposed to be sixteen inches apart, then that’s where I’m putting them. And straight, too.”

“That’s it. Hand it over.” A smile played on her lips as she moved toward him, holding out her hand. Dressed in overalls and a long-sleeved pink shirt, with her hair held back by a bandana, she looked cute enough to kiss. If only she wasn’t threatening to take away his drill.

“No way. We already agreed. You do the back side of the wall where people won’t be able to see your crooked screws, and I do the front. Sorry, but the drill stays with me.”

“Fine,” she said. “But can I at least have the tape measure?”

Kevin set it in her outstretched hand, then got bumped out of the way while she quickly measured off the holes, writing little X’s every sixteen inches down the lines she’d drawn earlier. “There,” she finally said, shoving the tape measure into one of her many pockets. “Drill away. But if you don’t let a few crooked ones slide, I swear I’m going to strangle you.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not a dentist,” he muttered, grabbing another screw from his pocket. “You’d be cracking kids’ teeth right and left.”

“And it’s a good thing you’re not a drywaller. The houses would never get done!”

Kevin lifted the drill and blew on the end of it, the way a gunfighter would a gun after a crack shot. “At least all my screws would be straight.”

Emma uttered another groan before disappearing behind the wall, muttering something about needing the patience of Job to work with him.

Kevin chuckled and resumed drilling while Emma taped. In what seemed like no time to him—and a century to Emma—they were finally ready to mud.

Emma ripped open the box and drove a wide metal trowel into the plastic bag, scooping out some of the mud. She immediately slapped it on the wall and began spreading it around in a haphazard way, making his nice clean wall look like a Venetian plaster job gone wrong.

He moved to intervene when his phone rang. He didn’t bother looking at the display. “Hello?”

“Kevin, it’s so good to hear your voice,” said his mother. “How are you?”

He groaned inwardly, wishing he’d let voicemail pick up the call. “Great. And you?”

“Wonderful, thank you. Your father just left for a meeting, and since I have a few minutes, I thought I’d call my favorite son to see how he is doing.”

Oh great. So it was one of those calls. The kind with no purpose other than to coerce personal information from him about his life—particularly his love life.

“So…” she continued. “How’s Nicole?”

“Fine, I think.”

“You think?”

Kevin watched Emma as she rose on her tiptoes to apply mud to an area above her head. But as she slapped it against the drywall, a large glob fell from the wall and landed squarely on her nose. A strangled squeak sounded as she quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of her shirt.

Kevin snickered, then covered his mouth to smother the laughter that followed. Served her right for ruining his wall.

“Are you laughing?” came his mother’s voice in his ear.

He attempted to stop, but couldn’t. “Sorry, it’s just that…” He had no idea how to describe how hilarious Emma looked with drywall mud smeared across her nose and cheek.

“Is something the matter, Kevin? You sound… different. Are you ill?”

“No, I’m good,” he said, then pointed at Emma and mouthed, “You have a little something on your face.”

“I did that on purpose,” she said.

Kevin covered the bottom of his phone with his hand and whispered, “You should do it again, especially if it keeps you from wrecking my wall.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’ll definitely do it again.” She reached into the box with her hand and scooped out some mud, walking purposefully toward him. “Let’s see if you think this is funny.”

“Kevin, is someone with you?” said his mother. “I hear a woman’s voice.”

“No, it’s the, uh, TV.” He took a couple steps back, bumped into the couch, and fell, landing with a thud on the cold leather.

Emma grinned and lunged at him, trying to smear the mud in his face. He grabbed her arm with his free hand and said into the phone, “Sorry, but I’ll have to call you later.” He pressed what he hoped was the end call button and tossed the phone aside. Then he grabbed Emma’s other arm, pulled her down beside him, and moved to hover over her.

“I don’t think so,” he said, grinning down at her.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s great for your complexion.” Even with the mud smeared across her face, Emma still looked so kissable. Kevin couldn’t resist. He leaned down and pecked her on the lips.

“I think this is better for my complexion,” he murmured against her mouth.

Her lips smiled against his, so he kissed her again. And again. And again. Until he forgot all about his mother, the unfinished wall, or the mud in her hand.

Something cold and gooey hit his cheek, bringing him back to his senses. Emma smeared it down to his chin and laughed. “Gotcha.”

“You are so dead.” Still pinning her beneath him, he leaned down and rubbed his freshly mudded cheek against the clean side of her face while she giggled, squealed, and squirmed.

“Stop!” she laughed. “We really have to finish the wall!”

“Okay, okay.” Kevin kissed her one last time and helped her up. Then he picked up his phone, checked the display to make sure the call had ended, and shoved it into his pocket.

“Sorry I made you shorten your call,” Emma said. “If you need to call someone back, feel free.”

“And leave you to make a mess of my new wall? I don’t think so.”

Emma paused, looking over the area she’d been working on. “This is how you apply drywall mud. Ask anyone.”

“Whatever you say.” Kevin nudged her to the side. “But I know you’re in a hurry, so why don’t you take the back side and leave this one to me?”

“Unbelievable,” Emma muttered. “You give a man a trowel, and he suddenly thinks he’s Michelangelo.”