Ruth: If I don’t like your way, we’re going to do it my way.
Dee: No.
Ruth: ???????
Dee: It’s my way or the highway. Take it or leave it.
Ruth: You’re pretty pushy for someone who works for me.
Dee: You taught me not to take crap.
Ruth: From men.
Dee: You’ve got bigger balls than most men.
Ruth: Flattery will get you everywhere. How early can you be at my house in the morning?
Dee: 7:30 if you have croissants. Otherwise, expect me between 8 and 8:30.
Ruth: No problem. See you at 7:30. Plan on spending the entire day at my house. Love you.
Dee: Love you, too.
I tucked my phone back in my purse and smiled. “Okay, I’m heading home. I’m going to open up a bottle of wine and take care of a few business things, since I won’t be working tomorrow.”
My dad arched an eyebrow. “You’re really taking the day off tomorrow?”
I nodded. “I sure am. Who knows? I might even introduce you to the new man in my life.”
“You met someone?”
“No. Not yet, but I’m going to make it a priority. And I also want to make a habit of seeing you more. In fact, let’s get together soon and I’ll make some pancakes, like I used to.”
“Deal,” my dad said. “I must say, I like the new you already.”
“Thank you. Having a brush with death can change your perspective on a lot of things.”
I hugged and kissed them both and caught an Uber back to my place.
After entering my house, I closed the door behind me, then turned around and screamed, dropping my bag on the tile floor.
A man stood there with a screwdriver in his hand.
It was the man from the gym.
The man I thought I’d never see again.
I dropped my purse and put up my fists. “You have five seconds to explain why you’re in my house or you will feel my wrath.”
I had taken countless self-defense classes and was trained for this exact scenario.
This guy was going down.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He threw his arms up over his head like I was the police. “Sorry to scare you. You must be Ruth. I’m Nick Morris. You know, your landscape designer? Glad we finally get to meet in person.”
I dropped my fists back down to my sides.
Another man approached and stopped next to Nick, smiling.
“And this is my partner, Brandon. We were working late to finish the doors today since Dee told us you were out of town. I assumed you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.” He studied me for a moment and then saw the brace on my wrist. “Wait a minute. You’re the woman from the gym this morning.”
“No way.” Brandon pointed at me with his index finger. “You’re wedgie girl?”
I wasn’t ready to die on that plane, but now I was all for it.
Chapter Six
NICK
I elbowed Brandon on the side of his arm and cleared my throat. “Why don’t you go put this in my truck and wait there for me. I’ll just be a minute.” I handed the screwdriver to Brandon, his eyebrows squishing together, not understanding that I was trying to get rid of him.
Run, you fool! There’s a chance you are going to be killed! Never call a woman wedgie girl!
On second thought, maybe I should have been the one hightailing it out of there since Ruth was smart enough to know that he had found out from me about her wedgie in the gym.
Brandon finally caught on, his eyes opening wider, his head nodding up and down like he was listening to his favorite song on the radio. “Right, right, right! I would love to put the screwdriver in your truck! I was hoping you would ask!”
Acting was not his forte, clearly. That was a ridiculous performance.
Thankfully, he snuck out the front door without another word or head bob.
Ruth just stared at me, tapping her foot on the tile floor.
I was pretty sure I saw steam coming off the top of her head.
I jammed my hands in my pockets. “Anyway . . . welcome back. We made a lot of progress today.”
Her face was flushed, her eyes beady, her jaw clenched so tight she looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon.
I swallowed hard. “I can go since I’m sure you’ve had a long day with the traveling.”
Ruth crossed her arms. “Wedgie girl? Really?” She articulated so well, like she was an ESL teacher and I was hearing the words for the first time.
My first impression was not one that I would ever be proud of.
“Don’t listen to him.” I pointed to Ruth’s brace. “How’s your wrist?”
She hesitated. “Not that I want to talk about my wrist or anything associated with what caused my wrist to get this way, but it’s not bad. Thank you for asking.”
A thank you was a good sign, but I decided my best course of action would be to change the subject. “Would you like me to show you what I did today before I leave? I think you’ll be quite pleased.”
She hesitated. “Please do.”
“Great.” I made my way down the hallway, wondering if it was a mistake to turn my back on her. Fortunately, I made it to her office alive and stopped, waving her through. “After you.”
“Actually, could you just give me two minutes to change before you show me?” Ruth asked. “These shoes are killing me.”
I was tempted to glance down and look but resisted. “Of course. Take your time.”
“Thank you.” Ruth disappeared down the hallway and returned a few minutes later, stepping inside the office. She had changed out of her business clothes and shoes and was now wearing a casual white summer dress and sandals.
“Much better.” Ruth looked around the office and then glanced down at the oscillating fan on the floor.
I pointed to it. “The fan is there to speed up the drying process of some touchup paint that I applied around the doorframe. It’s almost dry, and don’t worry, it’s non-toxic paint.” I smiled proudly and gestured to the french doors. “I hope you like them.”
Ruth stared at the doors, a blank look on her face.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a good read on her at all.
Say something. Anything. Tell me you love them.
If she didn’t like them, I would have made it right. I always made sure my clients were one hundred percent happy.
Finally, her shoulders and face relaxed. She took a few steps closer toward the doors, running her fingers along the smooth wood and nodding.
The oscillating fan rotated in her direction and—
Ruth screamed as the bottom of her dress flew up toward her head. She shoved the dress back down with both hands, holding it close to her body in the front and the back as she stepped away from the fan.
“Sorry about that.” I lunged forward to yank the fan cord out of the wall, dropping it to the floor. I stood there, not really sure what to say at this point. For fear of sticking my foot in my mouth, I did the safe thing and waited for her to say something.
She smoothed out her dress, obviously not having to worry that it was going to fly up again since the fan was no longer on.
Ruth turned to me slowly. “Did you see anything you weren’t supposed to see?”
I blinked, surprised by the question. There are certain things that women ask men that are problematic and have to be dealt with properly and delicately.