Make You Mine, page 13
Chapter Thirteen
“I don’t know how good an idea this is,” Maddie whispered as she and Anna lay side by side on their yoga mats, lifting their behinds up in what Tierney called Setu Bandhasana, but Maddie had always referred to as bridge pose. “I mean . . . I don’t know these people. Maybe I should wait for the next play.”
Anna grunted softly as they shifted into Eke Pada Setu Bandhasana, each of them slowly lifting their left leg into the air while maintaining the bridge posture. “I think you should do it. The theater group is full of great folks, and there’s no better way to get familiar with a town and the folks in it than being in a play.”
“Oof, ow!” Maddie exclaimed, and she dropped the pose and landed flat on her back.
“There is no ow in yoga,” Tierney intoned in the same quiet, sing-song voice she used for instructions. But she grinned in Maddie’s direction with a raised brow.
“There is tonight,” Maddie grumbled and arched her back. She’d been pounding nails and lifting two-bys all afternoon and her back was achy from the unusual work.
“Just do what you can,” Tierney crooned and changed to Ananda Balasana or happy baby pose in Maddie’s vernacular. Lying flat and raising her feet into her hands seemed to ease the twinge in her lower back.
She’d gone back to the spec site and pitched in after checking on the other projects Walker had going. Tomorrow, Charlie and Max would leave the renovation at Vevay and lend a hand at the spec house, getting the rafters back up, and they’d be on track again.
“Come back down,” Tierney instructed. “Now Supta Kapotasana.” She demonstrated the supine pigeon pose. “This one is so good for aching backs.”
Putting one leg on the other knee and pulling that knee toward her chest did ease the sore muscles, and Maddie released a long, relieved breath. A few more poses and Tierney eased then into Savasana—corpse pose—to end the session. Eyes closed, Maddie breathed slow and deep, relishing the quiet, letting the hum of the lazily circling ceiling fans settle her mind.
It had been such a stressful day, made even more so by the fact that Jack had come back to the site in jeans, a Walker Construction hoodie, and his steel-toed leather boots to pitch in and help repair the damaged wall. Within an hour, he’d shed the hoodie, and she’d been distracted by his muscles in a tight-fitting T-shirt that also bore the Walker logo of a W entwined with a triangular set-square tool, a hammer, and a tape measure pulled out as if it were measuring the bottom of the W. The same burgundy-colored logo was on the glass door entrance to the Walker building, on their website, and on the brand-new business cards that arrived via courier a couple of nights after Maddie had accepted the job as crew supervisor.
She’d teased Jack as they took a short break, asking how long you had to be on staff before you earned a hoodie, and he’d offered her his. She’d declined, of course, although the thought of wearing it, of having the clean, new-mown-hay, sunshine scent of him in her nose was tempting. How did one man turn her back into high school Maddie, wanting to have his letter sweater—or, in this case, his hoodie—to wrap up in? Yeesh. She’d been grateful when the day ended and she could get into her truck and meet Anna for class. Jack had been involved in a discussion with Don and she’d slipped away. A cowardly move, granted, but as exhausted as she was, she simply didn’t have it in her to deal with whatever was happening between her and Jack.
“Hey. Did you fall asleep?” Anna’s voice brought her back to the high-ceilinged studio and the murmur of voices as the class broke up. “Get up. We’re going to Mac’s for chicken and noodles. It’ll be off the menu soon and he’ll be back outside with nothing but salads and his big old grill.”
Maddie pulled her tired body up, swiped her towel over her face and neck, and rolled up her yoga mat. “How can you think of eating chicken and noodles after this?” She waved one hand around at the others filing out of class.
Anna gave her an are-you-kidding look. “Clearly, you’ve never had Mac’s chicken and noodles.”
Tierney ambled up, looking dewy and refreshed despite the curls escaping her long ponytail. “You okay, Maddie?”
“I’m fine.” Maddie tightened the strap around her mat. “I had a really physical day. I’m out of shape for pounding nails. Been spending too much time in my truck, going from work site to work site.”
“Well, stretch before you go to bed.” Tierney tapped her shoulder lightly and hustled them out so she could lock up. She had kids and a hot husband to get home to, and Maddie couldn’t help the tiny bit of envy that arced through her. Not that she was in any way prepared for a family, but something about this town made her think about it more than she ever had in her life.
Something? Or someone? Her conscience nudged her, and she shoved the thought away before Jack’s image could form fully in her mind. Not tonight. Just . . . no . . . “Okay, I need food, so let’s go to Mac’s,” she said over her shoulder to Anna, who didn’t even try to hide her triumphant grin. “Get that look off your face, Annabelle Walker. I’m ordering the Cobb salad, dressing on the side.”
*
Turned out Mac didn’t have chicken and noodles—he’d changed his menu a couple of days before, and although he hadn’t gotten the grill and the alfresco dining set up in the open space between his place and Clyde’s antiques store yet, the special was grilled salmon with couscous, which Maddie ordered with a side salad. Dejected and a little whiny, Anna opted for a burger and fries, slathering mayo on the former and ketchup on the latter.
“Stop looking so smug,” Anna said, forking up a couple of fries and popping them into her mouth.
“Smug? Me?” Maddie batted her lashes at her friend across the table. “I’m just eating my healthy, well-balanced, yet amazingly delicious supper here.”
Anna narrowed her eyes. “Whatever. Mac’s burgers are the best—totally worth the calories.” Easy for her to say—calories didn’t appear to cling like sticky vines to Anna’s slim frame.
“Sure, they are,” Maddie agreed, taking another bite of the round beads of perfectly seasoned couscous. She was discovering that Anna’s relationship with food was much healthier than her own body-morphic attitude. Anna ate for fuel and enjoyment, which was how people should eat. But Maddie’s mother’s harping about her weight had turned food into both enemy and comforter for Maddie. As she watched Anna’s pure pleasure in Mac’s burger and fries, she decided, in that moment, that enjoying whatever food she ate, rather than fearing it, would be her new goal. Her salmon was perfectly grilled, the couscous delicious, and the salad fresh and crisp. She took another bite and savored the flavors of fish and pearl pasta. Savoring . . . a new concept and perhaps the best way to approach food, or maybe even life, for that matter.
“What do you think is going on with the spec site?” Anna changed the subject so fast Maddie had to stop and think for a moment what she was talking about.
She set her fork down, pausing to get out of her own head and consider Anna’s question. “Damned if I know. I keep wondering if it’s me, but how and why? I mean, nobody in this town knows me well enough to develop a grudge. Besides, I haven’t been here long enough to piss anyone off that bad.”
“It’s not you.” Anna ate a couple more fries. “I met Jack in the hall when I went home to change before yoga. He was in jeans and looked beat down to his socks. He said he’d been out, helping clean up the mess.” She shook her head. “I wish I’d had a ticket to that. Jack hasn’t worked a site since he took over from Eli.”
“He worked hard. We all did.”
“He said he’d talked to the other big guys in the area—Beakins, Thacker, and Dave Cromwell. None of them were having problems. Jess Beakins even offered some of his crew to help us get the damage fixed, which was way above and beyond for the competition.”
“That was kind.”
“Yeah, Jess is okay. All three of them want to win this housing contract as badly as we do, but they wouldn’t stoop to this kind of shenanigans to win it any more than we would.”
Maddie recalled the grim look on Jack’s handsome face when he talked about the other construction companies, who also wanted to build houses for the Japanese car company, and a thought occurred to her. “Do you think Hiko might use all of us for the houses? That would give their employees some choices—you know, like the neighborhoods up in Indy where several custom home builders are working together?”
Anna took a bite of burger and chewed thoughtfully before replying. “I dunno. That’s old-school thinking. Nowadays, all you see is one home builder offering several different models in an addition where they are the only builder. They’ve bought the land and subdivided it.”
“We could get about thirty or so homes on the orchard acreage where we have the spec homes,” Maddie mused, her mind racing with ideas. “What if we sold a couple of lots each to Beakins and Thacker and Cromwell? That way we wouldn’t be in competition. We’d be working together. And if the other guys would do the same with their lots.”
Anna sat back. “Hmm. I dunno if Hiko would agree to having their employees spread over several different neighborhoods or giving them too many floor plan choices, and I can guaran-damn-tee you that this is a gig Jack would not be willing to share. But maybe Hiko would consider using more than one builder up on the old Swenson place . . .” She pursed her lips as she deliberated.
The idea was building in Maddie’s head, and she wished she had a notepad and pen handy. Instead, she fumbled in her gym bag for her phone, tapped on the Notes app, and thumbed a few quick lines.
Anna shook her head. “I’m telling you, Mads, Jack’s never going to go for it.”
Maddie saved the notes and dropped her phone back in her bag. “It can’t hurt to bring it up.”
“Ya think?” Anna’s doubtful expression gave Maddie a momentary pause, but now that the idea was brewing, she wasn’t about to let it go.
*
Maddie’s truck was in the driveway next to the garage, but when Jack hurried up the stairs and knocked on the apartment door, she didn’t answer. The apartment was dark, even though her vehicle was there, which meant wherever she was, she’d walked. So he sat down on the top step to wait for her. It was Thursday. Yoga, maybe? And the diner was open late because Mac and Carly weren’t home, either, or he’d have wandered downstairs to knock on their back door. Instead, he leaned against the newel post, gazing at the tall trees that were starting to leaf out, some pink blooming stuff down along Mac and Carly’s patio behind the hot tub, and other green shoots in the gardens around the house. He didn’t remember ever noticing the gardens here before, but he’d usually been here at night for poker back when Aidan lived here.
It would be nice to have a house, gardens, trees. Not that he didn’t at his Box Factory condo—the groundskeepers created a lush and colorful landscape every spring that carried into fall, but he had no idea how it all happened. Joe would know. Hell, Joe probably designed the gardens at the Box Factory. Was Maddie into gardens and flowers and growing vegetables? His imagination took off like a freight train, picturing Maddie on her knees, her fingers in the dirt, planting stuff. Tomatoes and peppers and herbs and flowers. Lots of flowers in a riot of colors. Quiet candlelit dinners under the stars on a deck or patio with Maddie. Red wine and good steaks. He could learn to grill. How hard could it be? Light the flame, toss the meat on the—
“Jack?” Maddie’s questioning voice interrupted what had turned into a domestic fantasy so unfamiliar, and yet so sweet, he’d closed his eyes.
He opened them, and there she was, standing a few steps below him, her yoga gear slung over her shoulder, a carryout box from Mac’s in one hand, her keys dangling from the other. Tendrils of auburn hair escaped her messy bun and curled over her ears and forehead, while the last of the evening light made an aura around her. Her gray-green eyes sparked with curiosity in the porch light. God, she’s beautiful. So incredibly—
“Is everything okay?” She came up another couple of steps. “Did something else happen out at the site?”
He blinked. “Oh, um, no. Everything’s fine, as far as I know.” He stood, suddenly not at all sure this visit was a good idea. “I-I brought you these.” He grabbed the bag he’d set down on the landing. He hadn’t intended to stay if she wasn’t home. His plan had been to just hang the bag on the door and leave. Somehow, that hadn’t happened.
“What is it?” She trod up the last few steps until she stood right below him.
“Take a look.” He held out the sack.
She shoved her keys in her jacket pocket, took the bag, and peeked inside. “What on earth?”
“Your hoodie,” he offered, as she tugged it and a couple of other items out of the bag. “And a T-shirt, a can koozie, a thermal go cup”—he stuck his hand under the bag to support it—“oh, and careful now, some pens and notepads and one of those string bag things that frankly, I’ve never understood a use for, but . . .”
“Oh, Jack. You didn’t have to. I mean, I was only teasing earlier, not hinting.” Rosy color filled her cheeks, which only made her more adorable.
“No, you should have this stuff.” He held the bag as she searched through it, her smile growing with each item she pulled out. “You’re one of us now.”
“This is all great. Thank you so much.” She gazed at him for a moment, a look of indecision on her face, then she pulled out her keys. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I have an idea I want to pass by you before I present it to the board. You want to come in for a minute?”
Did he want to come in? Hell, yes, he wanted to come in. He wanted to come in before he ravished her right there on the tiny landing, probably risking life and limb, as well as being seen by any passing neighbors. “Um . . . yeah, okay.”
He followed her in as she flipped switches, bathing the immaculate apartment in soft light. She dropped her yoga gear on the seat of the vintage coatrack, hung up her own jacket, and held out her hand for his.
Jack shrugged out of his lightweight coat, letting his fingers linger against hers as she accepted it. She allowed the touch, her eyes meeting his over the collar for a few seconds. One of them was trembling; he couldn’t tell if it was her or him. But the moment was gone as if it had never happened, and she slipped past him and into the kitchen, indicating the tall stool at the bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment.
“Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Wine? A beer? Tea?”
He needed water—his mouth was dry as dust, like he’d been roaming the desert for hours. God, her effect on me . . . “Water would be great, thanks,” he managed and licked his lips as he sat down.
“Sure.” She went to the fridge, stuck the takeout container inside, and pulled out two bottles of water, handing one to him, and opening the other to take a long drink. He drank, too, eyeing her as she paced the kitchen. She was fidgety. Nervous. Maybe more nervous than he was, if that was possible.
“What’s up?” he asked, recapping the nearly empty bottle.
“I have an idea about the spec houses.” She was still pacing.
“Okay.”
“It’s kind of weird and not the way things are done, but . . .” she said to the fridge.
“Tell me.” Now he was ready to pace, panic starting to set in. Please don’t let her tell me she wants out of her contract already.
“Here’s the thing . . .” She walked to the table, tapped her fingers on it, came back to the bar, recapped her bottle, then uncapped it and took another long drink.
She was driving him crazy, so he reached across the bar and gently took her wrist. “Maddie, stop. Just say it.” He tugged her closer to the bar. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Pulling away from him, she took a deep breath. “I think we should have a meeting with Beakins and Thatcher and Cromwell, and all of us work together on the spec houses. Sell them each a couple of lots up at the orchard to build specs on, and all four of us—together—can offer Hiko a four-builder custom home subdivision where their employees can have more than a cookie-cutter vinyl village. If we do, maybe Hiko will let all four of us build on the acreage they bought up north.” She said it fast, all in one breath, then snapped her mouth shut, a question in her expression.
Jack simply stared at her, trying to get his head around the idea she presented. No way she could be serious. Why on earth would he hand even a piece of this contract over to the competition? It was the project he was counting on to put Walker Construction back in the black. He reacted immediately and straight from his gut. “That’s a terrible idea.”
Her face fell. “Why?”
“Because we need every damn house we can build, and not only the employee homes, but the executive ones too.”
“I’m not including the executive houses in this arrangement, only the ones they want to build for the factory workers—a deal that could turn into several hundred homes for each of us if we do this right. The burden of all the houses wouldn’t be on just one of us.”
He shook his head. Has she lost her mind? “I doubt Hiko would ever go for using four different builders. My understanding is that they’re looking for consistency. Maybe not every house exactly the same, but close enough that the neighborhood looks uniform.”
She released a frustrated breath. “Shouldn’t we at least talk to the others? Or to Hiko? We won’t know if we don’t try, will we?”
Jack’s stomach twisted. He didn’t want to fight with her, but this was truly a horrible idea. “Maddie, no, that’s just shooting ourselves in the foot. We’re not giving up a single house to the other guys.”
She gave him a disgusted look. “Okay, what if we do win the contract? How are we supposed to build all those houses in the next three years? We don’t have that kind of crew power, unless you want to close down Walker Commercial and only be a custom homes builder.”
“You’re being ridiculous. That’s not going to happen. We can do it all.”
“You’re being short-sighted.” Maddie glared at him. “We can’t possibly build an entire neighborhood of homes—literally hundreds of homes ourselves with only a couple of crews. And what if they want another neighborhood? If this collaboration thing works, everybody wins.”
