Chapter Six

“Damn hard-headed woman,” Greg muttered under his breath as he climbed into his truck and pulled out of the parking lot. He had offered to follow Ginger home, to make sure she made it okay, but as she had so firmly told him, she was a big girl, and she could take care of herself.

He scowled. Big girls could sure be a pain in the ass. He wasn’t worried about her driving ability; she had switched to soda after her second glass of wine. With the setting of the sun, though, darkness would soon follow, and he was not quite as confident in her navigating ability. If she found herself in a strange area with nightfall upon her, it could turn into a dangerous situation.

That scenario was ridiculous because she had been driving back and forth to work for a week now, but it was as good an excuse as any he could think up. He just wanted the peace of mind in knowing she had made it home safely. He knew, better than most, how one freak accident could change the course of many lives.

The party for Becky had turned out to be a huge success, a perfect way to visit and say goodbye without all the hassle of the office grind. He wished he’d had some time to talk one-on-one with Ginger, though. He wanted to find out more about her plans for her house. To say he was intrigued was an understatement. How could such a petite woman, maybe five-feet tall and probably weighing around 115 pounds, manage the heavy lifting required to do the repairs on her home?

The questions would have to wait, though, because Gerald had stayed glued to her side the entire evening. And if the sly, teasing looks Gerald occasionally shot him during the evening were anything to go by, Gerald had been acutely aware of Greg’s frustration.

As of two hours ago, Greg no longer counted Gerald as one of his best friends.

He understood Gerald’s attentiveness to Ginger. She was extremely easy to talk to, not playing any of the usual female games that required flattery on the man’s part and coquetry on the woman’s part. Hell, the other night he had divulged more private information about himself than he ever told his closest friends. And all she had said to get him to open up was tell me about your childhood. The woman was a sorceress, no question.

They were getting close to Ginger’s neighborhood. He could easily make out her taillights, so he slowed down just enough to let a couple more cars get between them. Restless, he leaned forward and turned on the radio. A soft, slow country tune filled the truck. What was he doing following a woman just to make sure she was safe on a Friday night when he could be out dining and dancing? Maybe he would head out to one of the clubs to hear some live music after making sure Ginger made it home safely.

He settled back in his seat, his thoughts shifting to the party this afternoon. Several times, he had noticed a sad, almost wistful expression cross Ginger’s face when she didn’t think anybody was looking. When he learned Becky was hoping to meet up again with her high school sweetheart, the nagging question arose again regarding Ginger’s past. Had she been thinking about someone she left behind in California?

With a frown, Greg rubbed his chest in the area right above his heart, wishing he hadn’t eaten quite so much of the spicy salsa.

Ginger’s left signal light came on, and he slowed. He coasted to the street corner and turned off his lights, watching as her car pulled into her driveway midway down the street. After a few seconds, her car door opened, and he was able to see her walking up to her front door. He waited for a few minutes and then turned down her street, driving slowly past her house. Satisfied that all was fine, he sighed deeply, turned on his headlights, and drove to the end of the street.

Maybe he would just head on home instead of going out tonight. It was early, but it had been a hell of a week. A good night’s sleep would not hurt him.

****

Ginger locked the door behind her and quickly greeted Jack as she hurried to the front window without turning on any lights. “Just a minute, big guy,” she soothed as Jack squirmed against her legs. A few minutes passed before she saw the black truck drive by her house. When it vanished from view, she grinned and bent down to give the Lab a thorough pat. “I have to tell you,” she said as she stood and headed for the back door, “our friend, Greg, is one sweet, thoughtful guy even if he is a cad. He followed me all the way from the restaurant even after I told him it wasn’t necessary.”

Jack didn’t seem too impressed at the moment. He pushed through the back door almost before she had it open.

Crossing her arms, she leaned against the open doorway and let the cool evening breeze settle over her. Try as she might, she just couldn’t picture Greg in the role of Master Manipulator. Was it because she didn’t want to believe he was capable of such disgusting behavior when it came to women he dated? If he truly was a monster, what did that say about her judgment?

She knew the answer to that question. It would mean her radar was still broken.

The next morning, she woke early, feeling energetic and surprisingly optimistic. The oppressive cloud of worry and doubt she’d lived with for so long was finally lifting, allowing hope and self-confidence to rule with the beginning of a new day. It felt so good to just feel good that she ended up adding to the list she had made last night of the things she wanted to accomplish this weekend. She wasn’t going to let worry and doubt ruin this feeling.

An hour later, she returned home after picking up some general supplies, singing at the top of her lungs to the classic Born to Be Wild song. She turned onto her street and almost sideswiped a neighbor’s car when she spotted Greg’s truck in her driveway. She frowned and turned down the radio. What is he doing here?

She pulled into her driveway and climbed out of her car. Greg’s truck was empty, and he wasn’t at the front door. A slow anger started to burn. She would shoot him if he’d gone into the backyard. Poor Jack would be going crazy at not being able to get outside—whether it would be to greet Greg or to bite his arm off was irrelevant.

She started to march toward the back gate when a lazy drawl called out, “Mornin’. Where did you go so early?”

She whirled around. She was a little old for hide-n-seek and in no mood to play the game. Cocking her head, she placed her hands on her hips. “Where are you?”

“Right here.” A hand grasped the side of the truck bed, and he pulled himself up to a standing position.

Her eyes widened, and she walked to the back of his truck. “What are you doing in the bed of your truck?”

“I decided to take a nap while I waited for you.” Yawning loudly, Greg stretched, the sleeveless T-shirt he wore pulling tight across his chest.

“You were napping in the back of your truck?” She stood on tiptoe and tried to see over the sides of the truck. “What do you have in there, a fully-furnished bedroom or something?”

He held out his hand while a wicked grin crossed his face. “Want to come up and see?”

She swatted his hand away. “You’re incorrigible.”

He laughed and jumped over the side of the truck. “Actually, I have bags and bags of leaves I haven’t taken to the dump yet. They make an unusually comfortable bed.” He was dressed very similar to the way he had been when she first met him. Cutoff jeans, tennis shoes, and a baseball cap. The only difference this time, unfortunately, was he wore an old T-shirt with the sleeves cut out, effectively covering his smooth, sinewy chest.

She cleared her throat. “That still doesn’t answer my question. Why were you waiting for me?”

“Because,” he said, drawing the word out as though she were an infant, “you said you wanted to start working on your bathroom this weekend, and I’m here to help. Of course, I would have waited an hour or so before coming over had I known you were going out gallivanting so early this morning.”

She blinked. “You’re here to help?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “But first things first. After waiting so long, I’m hungry. Did you pick up breakfast stuff by any chance?”

She circled her car and opened the back door. “Nope. I didn’t go to the grocery store. I have leftover pizza or cereal. Take your pick.” She reached in her car and pulled out two bags.

He looked at the logo on the bags. “You went to the hardware store?”

“Yeah, I needed some supplies. Get that other bag, will you?”

He sighed, grabbed the bag from her back seat, and followed her to the door. “Pizza it is, then.”

Jack performed his usual boisterous welcoming ritual when they entered the house, and Ginger, familiar now with the dog’s height and strong body, expertly avoided tripping over him as she made her way to the kitchen. “Just set the stuff here.” She placed her own bags on the counter. “You can heat up your pizza in the microwave while I go change into work clothes.”

“Your innate hosting talents amaze me,” Greg muttered as he tried to command Jack to keep all four of his paws on the floor.

Ginger closed her bedroom door to the sound of Greg puttering around in the kitchen. Smiling, she pulled off her shirt and headed for the closet. Surprising how natural it felt for him to show up unannounced and simply fall into whatever was going on at the moment. He was just so comfortable to be with.

It was that way when she had first met him and he had helped her with Jack. She tugged an old tank top over her head and donned a pair of shorts in place of her jeans. Slipping her feet into tennis shoes, she remembered also his thoughtful gesture in following her home last night, in helping her jump her car the other day when the battery died, and now, remembering her comments about working in her bathroom, he had come to help.

If he played the field and didn’t care about anybody, as Gerald had intimated, then why would he be so thoughtful and considerate? The man came across as just too naturally kind. She prayed she was right and that he did not lead women on for ulterior motives because she was discovering the more she got to know Greg Tucker, the more she really…liked him.

Ginger exited her bedroom. The house was quiet, and the kitchen was empty. Surely, Greg wouldn’t have left without even saying goodbye, would he? No, of course not. She looked on the countertops and the dinette table for a note but found nothing. Out of curiosity, she opened the microwave and then grinned. Two slices of warm pizza sat on a paper plate. Greg must have changed his mind about the pizza and run out to grab something a little more appetizing. With a shrug, she pulled out the plate. Pizza might not be the breakfast of champions, but the aroma had her mouth watering.

Taking a healthy bite, she walked to the back door to let Jack in. But when the spoiled dog wasn’t panting at the door as usual, she stepped out on the patio and chewed thoughtfully as she debated her decision to work inside. It was promising to be a gorgeous day, and she could understand why Jack was happy to stay outside.

She was about to call out when movement on the far side of the yard caught her attention. Her eyes widened, and she grinned. She took a small step back so she could peer around the corner of the patio without being seen. Greg hadn’t left at all. He was busy giving Jack some kind of training lesson, and the sight was adorable. Evidently, her dog wasn’t the smartest cookie in the jar, but his enthusiasm was sure to score high points, along with Greg’s patience.

After making the dog sit, Greg walked backward a few steps with his hand outstretched while repeating the word stay. Jack would do fine for a minute, but then his tail would start wagging, and his right front paw would lift as if he wanted to wave. Then, within mere seconds, Jack would charge toward Greg with all the gleeful energy of a puppy. Greg braced himself against the onslaught, gently scolded the dog, and then the process would start again.

Ginger watched for a few more minutes. It was anybody’s guess who would win the battle of wills, but since they were both headstrong males, it could be quite a while before either one of them yelled uncle.

It suddenly dawned on her that Greg would be expecting to eat his pizza when he came back in. She looked at the half-eaten slice in her hand. Uh-oh. She opened the microwave and placed the slice back on the plate.

By the time Greg came back inside with Jack happily following at his heels, Ginger had emptied the bags and placed the supplies she bought on the counter. She chuckled when she saw Greg’s expression. “I take it Jack won.”

“Yep.” He walked to the sink to wash his hands. “He won this round, but I’ve only begun to fight. I’ll wear him down eventually.” Jack plopped down in his favorite corner. Ginger was pretty sure her four-legged friend was laughing.

“If you say so.”

“Do I hear doubt in your voice?” Greg asked as he dried his hands on a paper towel and headed toward the microwave.

She ducked her head and busied herself organizing the ceramic tile samples she’d chosen for her bathroom counter. “Umm…no. I don’t doubt you. What I’d like to know, though, is what are you training Jack to do?”

When he didn’t answer right away, she risked sneaking a peek at him. He was looking at her with raised eyebrows, holding the plate with one-and-a-half slices of pizza on it.

She burst into laughter and held her hands up. “Hey, I thought you had left to find something better to eat. You’ll learn never to leave food unattended around here if you want it for yourself.”

“No respect, no respect at all,” he complained as he came up beside her and held the plate out.

She took the half-eaten slice without any hesitation.

He bit into his own slice. “For your information,” he said, placing his hip against the counter and crossing his long legs, “I’m going to teach your dog not to go crazy whenever you come home. He is too big, and he could hurt you. He needs to learn some manners.”

“Good luck. I’ve been trying to calm him down, but I haven’t made any progress yet. I think he’s worried when he’s left alone, nobody will come back for him.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. If you want my opinion, I think you’ve already spoiled him rotten. He’s just like a kid. Give him some discipline, and he’s going to thrive.”

“You know what they say about opinions, don’t you? They’re like—”

“I know, I know.” He laughed. Turning, he swallowed the last of his pizza and rinsed the plate in the sink. “By the way,” he said a little too casually, “has anyone told you about our annual company picnic yet?”

She looked at him, but his gaze was on the plate he was rinsing. “Becky mentioned something about it. I know it’s coming up soon, and she was sorry she would be missing it. Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It’s the weekend after next. We invite our subcontractors, our commercial clients, and their families. It’s an all-day event with a softball game followed by a big barbeque, and this year we’re having live entertainment for those who want to listen to good music and dance.”

“Wow, sounds like a really big affair. Is there anything I can do to help prepare for it?”

“Nope. Everything has pretty much been taken care of. We rent a space at the big park by the zoo, and there will be water, sodas, and beer along with the meal, which we have catered from a local barbeque joint. They will do the cooking on sight, and the smell will keep you hungry all day. There will be activities for the kids, and we pay for anyone who wants to visit the zoo. The main event is the softball game, though. I’m assuming you know how to play, don’t you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to play?”

“Well, of course. With Becky gone, we’re going to need a second baseman.”

“With all the men I’m assuming are going to be at the picnic, you’re asking me to play?”

“Well, it’s sort of expected. You didn’t read that part of the employment package either, did you? It states you have to play an assigned position every year on the softball team right along with your normal duties of making coffee and taking messages.”

She turned slowly and looked at him. His eyes widened and his lips twitched. He looked poised to run if she displayed any sign of punching him. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “I must have missed that part about the softball team and the coffee, but I’ll make you a deal. I’ll gladly play second base for the team, and then when we’re up to bat and I hit a home run, you will make the coffee for one month straight.” It was a moot bet because so far Justin had made coffee every morning, but she wasn’t about to let Greg get away with his teasing.

“Deal.” He grinned. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

She rocked back and forth on her heels. “Let’s just say the only thing I do better than painting is swinging a bat.” And that was not far from the truth. She had played softball all through high school and college, her teams winning many championships. Her specialty was pitching, but she wasn’t afraid to cover second base. She had always loved softball and was actually looking forward to an opportunity to play.

He cocked his head. “Hmm…a woman of many talents, I see.”

“And don’t you forget it, buster.”

“I’m not likely to. I’m still trying to figure out how you’ve managed to do all this work on your house by yourself.”

She struck a pose and flexed the muscles in her arms. “How do you think I developed these? These are not wussy arms, you know,” she said with a smirk.

He coughed. “No, they most certainly are not.”

“The work is hard, but I enjoy it. Most of it is not too bad, but hanging sheetrock over my head is my least-favorite job. I have to rent one of those machines that will raise each sheet to the ceiling so I can screw it in place. It’s very time-consuming, but it gets the job done.”

“Very impressive. And what about texturing and all the trim work?”

“The garage is full of power tools. I also have an air-compressor, two electric saws, and a hopper to apply texture. I could set up my own hardware store if I wanted to.”

He shook his head. “You really are an amazing woman, Ginger Carmichael.”

She curtsied. “Thank you, kind sir. Flattery will get you everywhere. However, me doth think you are spewing such flowery words to delay the start of our worldly chores.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “And it ain’t gonna happen. Follow me.” She picked up several of the tile samples and headed down the hallway.

He laughed before copping an accent. “Yes, my lady.”

It took almost half an hour for Ginger to choose which tile she liked best. Finally, she sat down on the edge of the bathtub and gave a satisfied smile. “It’s going to be beautiful. You’re more help than I thought you’d be.”

“Thank you…I think.” His lips twisted in a wry grin.

She laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just surprised at your ability to match colors, and that you can so easily envision exactly the look I’m going for. I honestly would never have thought using that particular shade of sage would look so elegant and blend so perfectly with the rose color in the bedroom. If this construction thing doesn’t work out for you, you could always get a job in interior design, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I think I’m more cut out for construction. You’re lucky I’m here to offer my services.” He stuck his nose in the air. “There are people who would feel extremely honored to have my personal attention. I suggest you use me while you can.”

Her swallow echoed off the walls. She could imagine several ways in which to use him. She leaned over and picked up the sample tile she’d chosen, studying it as though she were seeing it for the first time. In the confined space of the bathroom, his special scent of soap and musk had teased her senses, heightening the atmosphere as Greg held tile samples up against the backdrop of paint and floor colors she had chosen. It had been fairly easy, though, to tamp down her awareness of him due to the friendly jesting and knowledgeable suggestions he made as they worked, but now that the selections had been chosen, the very air in the small space tingled with tension.

He was a big man, not only in his physical presence, but also by the force of his personality and his thoughtful nature. She could not recall ever meeting someone quite like him. With his astounding good looks, he could easily be conceited and arrogant, but it didn’t appear he had either of those unsavory characteristics. Surely, he had much better things to do than to help his new employee with her house repairs, and yet he’d come over unannounced, without any coaxing, to offer his expertise.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

She raised her head. “What? Oh…um, no,” she said when he nodded toward the tile in her hand. “I’m very pleased with the tile choice. I’m just starting to feel guilty about taking up so much of your time. I remember you were working on your own house the day I met you. I’m sure you’d rather be tackling your own projects on your days off.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her. “One thing you’ll learn about me is that unless it’s related to work responsibilities, I never do anything I don’t want to do. I do not have an altruistic bone in my body, so stop feeling guilty. Besides, how do you know I’m not checking out your skills before I try to coerce you into helping me with my house?”

She started to laugh, the glint in his eye proof he was only teasing, but suddenly the idea began to take shape, and before she even considered the wisdom of her words, she said, “Greg, that’s a fantastic idea! I could help you work on your house in exchange for all you’ve done for me. That arrangement would wipe out all the guilt.”

“Whoa.” He shook his head. “I was only kidding. First of all, I don’t need any help, second, I don’t want you to feel any guilt, and finally, I haven’t done that much here.”

She gave him an impish grin. “I know. I’d be thanking you in advance.”

“I’m serious, Ginger. I am not going to let you work on my house. I have two brothers, and we all work on it when we can. We knew it was going to take time to get the house in shape, and we’re not in any big hurry. Believe me, I haven’t neglected my house to help you with yours.”

She tilted her head. “How long have you owned the house?”

“A little over a year now. Why?”

“Because from what I can tell just seeing the exterior, you’ve barely scratched the surface on the work that has to be done. I think you and your brothers are too busy to get it done in a timely fashion. Don’t forget, I know all the projects Tucker Construction is involved with, and there are more coming up in the very near future. Either you let me help where I’m able, or I can’t let you work on my house.”

He planted his hands on his hips. “I’m not saying your help wouldn’t be an asset. However, just imagine how it’s going to affect my reputation having a beautiful woman help me. There are some attractive, single women in my neighborhood, and quite by accident, I’ve been able to schedule working outside when they’re home. If they see you, I won’t be getting any more glasses of iced tea.”

She pursed her lips. “Hmm…I see your problem. Well, you’re just going to have to figure something out. Maybe you could stick me around in the back of the house so I don’t mess up your mating ritual.” She wasn’t sure just how much of what he said was exaggerated, but she was a little surprised at how the thought of attractive women fawning over him affected her.

She placed the tile on the edge of the counter and dusted off her hands. “Speaking of iced tea, I think I’ll make some.” She started to walk past him when her foot accidentally kicked a box of the heavy floor tile, and she lost her balance.

Immediately his arm came out to steady her. “Careful there, are you okay?”

No, she wasn’t. Not by a long shot. She was pulled up tight against Greg’s chest, and the jolt of electricity that shot through her caused her breath to stick in her throat. Her eyes jerked up to his. His dark eyes narrowed, and she felt his indrawn breath.

Dropping her gaze, she cleared her throat. “Um…I’ll go make that tea.” She pulled away from him and hurried from the room on legs made of rubber.