Bounty (Colorado Mountain #7) Page 6

  With me there.

  Yeah, God was feeling frisky and the blank way Deke was staring at me, I knew this was very frisky.

  I stared back, thinking, in Wyoming, he only gave me a minimal spark. The drink, our brief discussion and him asking me out for a ride were the only ways I knew he was into me.

  Now there was nothing. Not even words.

  Finally, he gave me words.

  “Max is gonna show me around but could take a look before he gets here, you let me in.”

  God, I was staring up at him mute and barring the door. And he’d been staring back, mute, waiting for me to get out of the way.

  Shit.

  “Right, of course,” I murmured, stepping back and to the side.

  He moved in, ducking his head slightly to do so.

  The door wasn’t small, it was normal height.

  Deke just wasn’t.

  He moved in to about the place I’d stopped dead to look at the space when I’d first entered it and he did just that.

  Stopped dead.

  Then he muttered, “Jesus.”

  I left the door open and headed his way, coming to a stop not very close, and agreed, “I know.”

  He didn’t look at me but approached the stack of drywall, inspected it, glanced around and finally gave me his attention.

  “Gonna need at least ten times this for this job,” he stated.

  “There’s more in the garage.”

  Though, that being so, I didn’t think there was ten times more. As far as I could see, there was another stack about that height.

  He didn’t nod or anything, just moved to the pile of wood flooring. He studied it briefly before heading to a blanketed cabinet.

  He pulled back the blanket to expose a few inches of the wood and mumbled, “Custom-build.”

  I said nothing because he knew it was and so did I.

  He wandered to boxes of grout, tile, and I watched, trying to figure out a way to get out of this.

  I couldn’t tell Max I didn’t want Deke doing the work because I had no reason to do that. I could ask that he switch Deke out for another guy on one of his other jobs but I had no reason to do that either. And Max and I both knew I needed the work done so I couldn’t back out and say I’d wait for the full team.

  I was stuck.

  Stuck with days in, days out of a man who moved me with one meeting then stood me up and didn’t remember me working in my house.

  “Hey.”

  The voice came from my front door and I turned to see Max walking in, hand wrapped around a travel mug, smile on his handsome face, and I was not surprised I was so deep in my thoughts I didn’t even hear his truck approach.

  “You got here before me,” he said to Deke.

  “Yep,” Deke agreed to the obvious.

  Max looked at me. “Hey, Jus—”

  “Jus!”

  It was not loud but not normal level either, it was quick and it sounded desperate.

  It was all this because, in front of Deke, I couldn’t have Max calling me Justice and maybe reminding Deke we’d met, something I had not done.

  I pulled it together and said, “Jus. Or Jussy. Sorry, that’s what friends call me.”

  Max gave me a funny look before he shook it off and replied, “Right. Cool. Jus. Good to see you again.”

  “You too.”

  I shoved my phone in my overalls pocket as Max approached to shake my hand.

  I shook his and he noted, “So you’ve met Deke.”

  “Yeah.” It was my turn to agree to the obvious.

  “Great,” Max said and looked to Deke. “Told you it was a big job, man.”

  Deke didn’t agree to this assessment.

  He stated, “Weather’s gonna turn. She needs insulation. She got a furnace?”

  Max nodded, heading toward Deke. “She’s got one, AC too, ducts in. Been months, Deke, think they’re good but need you to go over them and install the thermostats.”

  “Insulation first,” Deke returned.

  Max shook his head. “Got that equipment working at the Porter place next couple of days. It’ll be free on Thursday.”

  “Can’t drywall without it, Max. And she needs the walls up,” Deke retorted.

  Max looked to me. “Got a choice, Ju…uh, Jus,” he started. “We recommend that you blow foam insulation in and that’s what’s on your job spec. Lasts longer, works better, keeps utility bills down, doesn’t settle or need replacement as quickly, keeps rodents and bugs out, doesn’t hold water. Deke’s right, we were ready to spray the foam in before this build came to a halt. Deke can sort out your furnace but not much more he can do until the insulation is in. You want him to start, we can get cellulose or fiberglass but it’s not recommended.”

  “Work on the deck.”

  Both Max and I turned to see Deke had moved to stand at the big window where the kitchen would someday be.

  When he had our attention, he kept his on Max and declared, “Not a priority but she’s got the lumber somewhere, can get that going. Spend today inventorying what she’s got here, make sure it’s what she wants and it’s enough. We need more, you get on that. Something she doesn’t like, she works with Mindy to order it so we got it when we get to it. Spend the rest of the time after I get heat sorted out until the equipment is free on the deck. Weather turning and if we have a rough winter, that deck might not get done until spring.”

  Max moved his way, speaking. “On the plans, there’s an outside fire pit meant to be built in stone, up the middle of the deck. Got a gas line laid to it, but plan has it multi-functional, gas and wood burning. Stone’s under a tarp outside. So is the lumber, if a miracle happened and no one got to it while this house was sitting, waiting to be sold.”

  That miracle happened. I’d seen those stacks outside.

  Thank God.

  “Got the plans?” Deke asked.

  “In my truck,” Max answered.

  “Right, won’t be a problem. Show me the rest?” Deke prompted.

  “Let’s move,” Max replied.

  I stood there feeling like I wasn’t there until Max caught my eyes and grinned at me when they were going to move by me.

  Deke didn’t even look at me.

  “Uh, can I just say…?” I called when they’d almost hit the doorframe to the hall.

  Both men stopped and looked at me.

  “I’m happy for anything getting done but when work starts inside the house, can I get my utility room first?” I requested.

  Another grin from Max. “Women and laundry.”

  I gave a slight shrug. “What can I say? We can’t recycle clothes like dudes can, turning them inside out and wearing them again.”

  Max chuckled.

  Deke stared at me, expressionless.

  “Once the insulation is in and we got your furnace running, Deke’ll give you a utility room,” Max agreed.

  “Awesome,” I said on a bright smile I hoped didn’t look too forced.

  Max lifted his chin, turned away and disappeared through the doorframe.

  Deke just looked away and disappeared through the doorframe.

  As for me, I stood there and stared at the empty doorframe.

  Right, this was happening.

  I met a guy who asked me out and stood me up and now I’d met him again and he didn’t remember me.

  Whatever.

  It was not a big deal.

  Sure, I’d written a song for him. I’d recorded it. I’d released an album with that song on it. It and the whole album had been critically acclaimed, sold relatively well and nominated for awards.

  So what?

  He didn’t know that.

  He didn’t know me, the me he asked out or the me I turned out to be.

  Now he was going to install my deck, inventory the stuff in my house, blow insulation in my walls, make my furnace work and give me a utility room.

  No big deal.

  I had bigger things happening in my life.

  Deke
Whoever-He-Was and the fact he was totally immune to me was not one of them.

  I’d learned one thing in my life really well.

  How to move on.

  My dad was dead and I’d made the decision to move on.

  So I was moving on.

  * * * * *

  Two hours later, I stood in one of the minimal open spaces left in my packed-full garage and watched Deke set a box on top of an alarmingly large stack of boxes he’d shifted aside as we’d gone through the stuff that was there.

  Prior to putting in the offer on the house, I’d had a look, but not knowing what was what or where it would go, I obviously didn’t look closely.

  Now that I’d lived in the house and we’d gone through things thoroughly, that large stack of boxes was fixtures and fittings I’d nixed.

  This was because the stuff chosen for the Jack-and-Jill bathroom was dire. The guest suite bathroom stuff was uninspired. And I had an entirely different vision that was far more dramatic for what I wanted for backsplashes and countertops in the kitchen.

  Deke turned to me.

  “Didn’t use it. They’ll take it back, ’specially since you’ll be gettin’ more and buyin’ more,” he announced.

  I would assuredly be getting more and buying more. The assertion that all that was needed was included with the property because it was housed within the property was not true.

  This I knew beforehand as Max had already warned me more materials would be needed prior to me signing the papers not only with him to do the job, but to buy the house (one of the reasons I got the price I wanted on the house).

  Just how much more I needed was a surprise, even though Max had called what was needed “significant.”

  “You know Mindy?” Deke asked, taking me out of my thoughts.

  “The lady that works in Max’s office?” I asked back, for I did know that Mindy since I’d met her when I’d gone in to talk to Max about finishing the job.

  “Yeah, part-time and not normal. She’s got another job but Max’s regular woman is out on maternity. Instead of getting a temp who don’t know dick and messes everything up, since Mindy worked there before gettin’ her degree, she’s helpin’ out.”

  His sharing this with me was surprising, considering for the last two hours since Max left his conversation was minimal as he studied plans, opened boxes, counted stuff, measured stuff, got a ladder from the garage, brought it in and wandered around upstairs, told me where the materials were meant to be used, this last being the extent of his conversation.

  It hit me that this was his way of saying that it wasn’t normal operating procedure at Max’s office, so I could not assume someone would be at my beck and call and thus I’d need to deal.

  He was looking out for his employer who was also, obviously with the way I’d noted they interacted, a friend.

  This said good things about him.

  “You call her, she’s got brochures,” he continued. “You can go in, look at ’em, decide what you want and she’ll do the orders. She also knows the places you can go to look at tile, stone, slabs, whatever. Make your choices, tell her, she’ll get it in. Yeah?”

  I nodded my acceptance of this.

  “I’ll let Max know he’s gotta deal with these returns,” he stated and jerked his head to the stack of rejections.

  “That’d be great,” I replied.

  He said nothing to that. He simply grunted, “Furnace.”

  Apparently, it was time for him to get to his next order of business.

  “Right, yeah. Furnace. Good,” I mumbled. “Nights are getting a bit chilly.”

  As mentioned, this was the truth. I was glad Dana’s interior designer had sent a down comforter with all the bedclothes I’d chosen. It kept me cozy. But I was still thinking about hitting the local mall Lauren had told me about to get an electric blanket. It had to drop twenty, thirty degrees at night and I was feeling that.

  Deke again had no comment, just moved my way.

  “Do you want me to make a pot of coffee for you?” I indicated the mini-fridge I was standing in front of, on top of which was a small, four-cup Mr. Coffee. “I also have bottled water in the fridge,” I went on to share. “Yogurt, fruit, not much else. You’re welcome to any of it.”

  “Need caffeine, take a break, go into town, get it from Shambles,” he muttered as he moved by me, through the door and into the house.

  He didn’t hold the door for me and so it closed behind him.

  I stood where I was, looking at the closed door, wondering if perhaps it had been a good thing he’d stood me up seven years ago.

  He wasn’t full of conversation. He was brusque when he actually did say something. And he was kind of rude.

  However, he was still the man who’d rocked me, closed off in a way I wanted to put in the effort to open him, and I liked the way he moved. His hair was a lot longer so now he didn’t wear it in a ponytail but an unkempt man-bun at the back of his head. And his cheeks and jaw weren’t covered in stubble but a full beard.

  It didn’t matter, none of it did.

  I was a job to him, nothing else, he’d made that clear.

  Whatever drew him to me seven years ago was long gone.

  I had a feeling I knew what it was, no longer mini-skirted and nursing a drink at a biker bar.

  He was of his people. I was not his people. Then, he didn’t know that. Now, it was clear he did.

  So be it.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t been around hot guys I was attracted to who were either taken or weren’t taken with me.

  I’d been wrong. He wasn’t the only man who mattered in my personal universe.

  He was just Deke, the guy who was now going to make progress on my house so when the team could come and finish the job, they had less to finish.

  That was it.

  I walked to the door, opened it and moved through, these being my thoughts.

  These and the fact I was doing my best to tamp down the feeling that, ridiculously and way-too-keenly to be comprehensible or even logical, those thoughts hurt.

  * * * * *

  Deke

  Deke Hightower sat in the low, folding deck chair in the grass, his long legs stretched out, his hand wrapped around a bottle of beer, his eyes on the glassy surface of the small lake in front of him that looked now like a mirror but would soon color with oranges and yellows. Then pinks and purples. Then blues.

  Until there was dark cut only by shards of silver.

  And he sat there thinking that he had no idea how any woman who had a body like the woman who called herself Jus would wear bulky overalls, the only thing making them worthwhile being that tight tank and the glimpse of skin you could see inside at the hip, which also included a glimpse of her panties.

  Right, so there was that, the glimpse of skin. Smooth. Tan. Nice.

  “Fuck,” he muttered to the lake, lifting his beer and taking a sip.

  Then again, down all hippie and messy and parts braided, or up in a jumble with bits of it hanging, the woman had a serious shit ton of hair and hair like that meant she could wear anything and a man’s thoughts still would be consumed with what he could do with that hair.

  Deke took another sip, not letting those thoughts consume him, and repeated, “Fuck,” as he lowered his beer.

  He had to work on her house. He just had to hope she had a lot more ridiculous clothes to put on that would put him off while he was doing it.

  Didn’t matter. The bitch was loaded. Her bullshit beat-up truck that was sitting outside her fucked-up house—a truck she bought because it was cool and she thought it augmented her style, not because she couldn’t afford anything else—couldn’t hide the fact that she was rolling in it.

  Her crazy-ass clothes didn’t hide it either.

  He knew what a house like that cost, especially on the land it was on, even if it wasn’t finished.

  He also saw the plans and knew how much more she was pouring in it.

  After getting her furnace sor
ted and taking a look at the deck, deciding how to tackle it the next day, he’d left and she hadn’t given him a key or told him she’d be out to work the next day so they’d have to figure out how he could gain access to her place in the morning.

  She’d just said, “See you tomorrow, Deke.”

  He’d watched her say that as she was closing the door on him to close herself in the fucked-up house she’d bought, and not for the first time he’d been unable to shake the feeling he’d looked into those big brown eyes before.

  That didn’t matter either.

  Out of his league. Even if he wanted to go there (and being essentially his boss, he wasn’t going to go there, he’d learned that lesson all too well), he wouldn’t go there.

  He didn’t need her shit. Didn’t need to feel less when it was obvious she could give herself more.

  What he needed was a job. His resources were running low. It didn’t take him a lot to get by but it was coming time when weather could not be assured he could jump on his bike whenever he felt the need to take off. This meant it had come to the time where he settled in Carnal, got a job and made some cash so when the weather turned, he could jump on his bike whenever he felt the need to take off.

  It would not suck, shoving his hand down those overalls to trace with his fingers the lace he saw of her panties. This being before he took those fucking ugly things off.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Deke knew her kind and he’d learned a long time ago not to go there.

  He set her out of his thoughts and stared at the lake, thinking about her deck and the fire pit, which, once done, were going to be dead cool, just like the rest of the house.

  A house Deke knew was not a place he’d ever belong.

  And he watched the mirror of the lake turn yellow and orange, pink and purple and then blue.

  When it was blue, he got up, walked to his Airstream, climbed in, closed the screen behind him and started dinner.

  Chapter Three

  Bounty

  Justice

  Loud banging on my door made me open my eyes.

  I blinked, rolled, reached out, missed the nightstand, shoved forward, tagged my phone and engaged the screen.