Construction Beauty Queen (10 page)

Chapter Six

The irony of what she was doing wasn’t lost on Veronica. To keep from marrying a well-connected man, she needed to use his connections with the Help the Less Fortunate organization to achieve her goal of breaking away from him. But she was willing to do it to prove to Matt and his town that she was committed to them.

Paige answered Trevor’s phone. “Thanks for calling me back.”

After the message this morning, Veronica should have known Paige would assume that was why she was calling. “I suppose Trevor’s unavailable in a meeting.”

“As usual,” Paige said cheerfully.

“I called to ask him about his work with Help the Less Fortunate,” Veronica said. The one thing that allowed their non-relationship to progress to the point of engagement had been his passion for this charity. While she’d focused solely on the fund-raising side, he’d left his precious meetings long enough to help people on the other end. “I have a town that desperately wants to provide food and clothing for its in-need residents, but it doesn’t have the initial funding to get the plan off the ground.”

“Would you like me to e-mail you the application, or are you looking for Trevor to wield some influence to get the town or state to cough up the money?” Paige asked.

“No offense to Trevor, but the mayor and I don’t think any influence is going to get us money when there’s none to spare.” But how to delicately say that she wanted more than an application? To say she wanted special treatment wasn’t exactly the truth; she was confident Kortville’s application would be accepted on its merits. But if someone set it on a desk like the one in the construction office that she was wading through right now, it might not be discovered for years.

“Tell you what, why don’t you e-mail me the completed application, and I’ll personally hand it to Trevor. He’ll be relieved to know you left to do charity work and not because you were trying to stop the merger. Everything can go on as planned now. He’ll be happy to support your charity.”

Veronica glanced at her bandaged hands. “I care about this charity, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m getting my hands dirty working construction and living in a trailer.”

Paige laughed. “I e-mailed you the application. Send it back as soon as you can.”

Veronica started to protest that she was serious, but Paige had already hung up on her.

…

Matt had never wanted to regain total control of his company more than he did that morning. A rush job with no prior planning was bad enough, but this one also had the customer calling the shots because he thought a 50 percent ownership stake meant he knew something about construction. Consequently, Matt couldn’t put the work on hold until he’d done enough preplanning to ensure the quality would be up to Kortville Construction’s standards.

However, he could work day and night to make sure the most taxing physical labor would be done before Veronica arrived, and she could give Ron the appearance that she’d done everything. Last night with the rain soaking them, he and Toby had measured where the posts would go. The rain had stopped by the time he’d come back this morning to dig the postholes in the mud. The holes done, he returned to his truck for the posts.

Matt stopped cold at the corner of the house. Veronica was at the end of the driveway, wearing gloves, a T-shirt in her signature pink color, and designer jeans. Ron stood over her, directing her to mix three bags of dry concrete and water in the wheelbarrow Matt had spent the better part of an hour bending back into shape. Her stupid how-to book was open on the ground. She shifted over to refer to it.

“Now you need to push the wheelbarrow around the house to the gazebo spot,” Ron ordered.

She straightened her shoulders and sucked in her breath. How had Matt ever thought this woman was a quitter? She didn’t give up and didn’t back down. But he couldn’t let her push the wheelbarrow. Yes, she was wearing gloves, but the wounds on her palms couldn’t take that kind of pressure.

“If we need a second batch of concrete, we’ll mix it right by the holes,” Matt said, walking down the driveway. “No need to push that heavy wheelbarrow through the wet yard if we don’t have to.”

She swung toward him, surprise and that same mix of vulnerability and determination on her face that she’d sucker punched him with at the hardware store yesterday.

“Leave it here until I set the posts in place,” he continued. “Then I’ll bring it to the backyard, and you can scrape the concrete out while I tip the bucket.” He moved quickly to his truck to start carrying the posts. He couldn’t take back what Ron had already done, but he could stop Veronica from injuring herself more.

“You don’t have time to wait,” Ron argued. “If you don’t get that quick-drying mixture poured in the holes in time, the concrete will dry in your wheelbarrow. You won’t be able to use it, and you’ll have a heck of a time cleaning the equipment.”

“It can wait,” Matt said with authority. He hefted a post on each shoulder. As he headed around the side of the house, he had the pleasure of seeing Veronica’s eyes slide appreciatively over his straining biceps. Just like that, every ounce of effort was worthwhile.

He set each post in a hole and turned around. Ron was marching toward him, glaring furiously. The sexual chemistry buzzing between Matt and Veronica was too thick. Was Ron finally stepping up to defend his granddaughter from Matt’s baser thoughts?

“You want her gone or not?” Ron demanded.

That wasn’t much of a defense. And Matt didn’t know how to answer the question anymore, either. He didn’t like what would happen to his town if she stayed, but she wasn’t the spoiled snob he’d assumed when she’d first rolled in. “Normal manual labor is tough enough on her. You don’t need to dream up ways to make it more challenging.”

“You’re welcome to get your heart broken again,” Ron said. “But my daughter already broke mine when she left home and never returned thirty years ago. I did everything I could to get her back. I’m not letting Veronica worm her way into my heart until I have a guarantee that she won’t run off like her mother did.”

“Guarantees are hard to come by. Three years ago I’d have sworn up and down there was no way I’d ever raise a little girl alone in the town I grew up in and couldn’t wait to leave,” Matt said. “But now there’s no place I’d rather be.”

“I’m sure Veronica would rather be somewhere else right now.” As if to punctuate Ron’s comment, she staggered into view pushing the wheelbarrow around the side of the house. She hadn’t waited.

Ron put his hand on Matt’s arm to stop him from running across the yard to her. “You came back and did us all proud. My daughter never came back. She was too good for me.”

“So, you’re going to punish your granddaughter?” Matt yanked his arm free and jogged toward Veronica and the load that was too heavy for her.

“No,” Ron shouted after him. “I’m going to send her back to her mother, so she doesn’t break Angela’s heart the way Angela broke mine.”

“Set it down,” Matt called to Veronica. The ground was soft, making the single wheel dig in instead of rolling over the grass. “I’ll take it the rest of the way.”

“I’ve got it,” she wheezed. “This is construction, not a tea party, remember? I’m supposed to work, not sit around and let you wait on me.”

“I changed my mind.” Regardless of the hell Ron would give him for it, he couldn’t watch her fail, not with the guilt eating at him for how much her hands had to be killing her.

“You want to wait on me?” She looked up from her load, and the anticipation in her gaze tempted him to haul her in his arms and kiss her eyelids and lips until she forgot everything that had ever given her a moment’s pain.

Before he could reach her, though, the wheelbarrow’s front wheel hit a muddy divot. Veronica stumbled, and the tub tipped. Her arms twisted as she tried to balance the equipment, but she didn’t have the strength to muscle it upright. The wheelbarrow turned on its side, taking her down, too. Her shoulder gouged into the mud. Her hip banged against the metal tub. Concrete poured out onto her leg and the grass.

Matt’s heart sank. This was his fault—he should have stood up to his heartless partner sooner. No matter how much she wanted to foolishly ignore her limitations, she didn’t deserve this. He pushed the wheelbarrow aside while she struggled to sit up.

“I have cement shoes.” She wrestled herself to her feet. “You could dump me in the river. No one will ever know.”

“I’m not going to dump you in the river. It’s ten miles from here.” He strove to match her light tone, but he couldn’t laugh—not when he’d treated her so progressively worse with each job that the possibility he’d stoop that low sounded almost believable.

“Well, gosh, that’s comforting.”

He managed a grin this time at her sarcasm.

“We won’t dump you in the river. We’ll send you home to your mother!” Ron shouted. “I’m going inside to find out why she’s not here yet. Use the outdoor faucet to clean up. Your mother won’t want that mess inside her car.”

“Yet?” Veronica asked, bewildered. “What does my mother have to do with anything?”

Ron slammed the back door in reply.

She turned to Matt. “Does concrete wash off, or did I permanently gain fifty pounds?”

He brushed his thumb over the mud on her cheek. “It washes off, but you’re not going to like it. You’ll have to hose down your clothes. If you don’t want to strip, we’ll have to do it with you in them.”

Her blue eyes widened in horror. “Hose down my clothes? You’re joking, right? Is this one of your industry terms that translates to ‘build a two-story gazebo with six birdhouses in the backyard and have it done by noon’?”

“I wish.” He wanted that hot appreciation back in her gaze when she looked at him, not this humor.

Veronica closed her eyes and sank to her knees. “Ron hates me. I thought he was the first person to ever believe in me, but he wants to see me fail more than anyone.”

Matt kept his hands steady on her arms and lifted her to her feet. Right now, he would do anything to erase the defeat on her face. He wanted the woman back who believed no obstacle was too big to overcome. “I don’t think his motives have anything to do with you. He still seems fixated on the fact that your mother broke his heart when she left home.”

“Don’t attempt to convince me he has a heart.” Her voice took on a hard edge Matt hadn’t heard before. “If he treated my mother this way, it’s no wonder she hasn’t spoken to him for my entire life.”

Matt swallowed. “How about we make a deal? I won’t try to convince you if you don’t let his bitterness taint you.”

She studied him for a moment. He could feel her resolve strengthen as she held up her weight instead of relying on his hands. “You’ve got a deal, with these conditions. I’ll hose myself down. Then I’m going back to the trailer and crawling under the covers. I’m going to start this whole day over again; I don’t care who’s supposed to be the boss.
I’ll
decide what job I’m going to spend my day on.”

The woman of steel determination was back. Veronica marched to the faucet and twisted the knob. The hose jerked and rippled with the hard stream of water pumping through it. She picked up the nozzle and pointed it at her shoes. The water splattered up to her face.

She flinched but moved the hose higher up her legs. “Oh my gosh, this is cold. So cold, and it stings. Is there a temperature adjustment?”

“It’s an outdoor faucet,” Matt reminded her. “Cold is the only option.”

Propriety demanded he look away. But as the water hit her body and splashed in every direction, it drenched her pale pink shirt. Matt wasn’t a testosterone-laden teenager hoping for a wet T-shirt contest, but his body reacted like he was.

Veronica shivered so much that she dropped the hose, shooting water over the muddy grass and onto his boots. She made no move to pick it up and finish rinsing.

“Your left side is still completely covered.” He didn’t want this job. Right now, he’d give up his half of Kortville Construction to wrap her in a towel and warm her abused flesh, instead of doing what he had to do. Grimly, he picked up the hose and pointed it at her.

The concrete slowly came off, thanks to his merciless pounding. He’d rather turn the hose on himself—maybe it would cool his own body down.

“So this is how the Kortville Mafia takes care of its victims. Next time give me the cement shoes and throw me in the river.” She should have looked like a drowned rat. Instead the water sparkled off her in the sun, and she looked like a glorious water queen.

He flicked off the nozzle. “Is all the residue gone?”

Concrete was drying in the wheelbarrow and the grass, empty postholes littered the yard, a muddy river flowed next to the faucet. But all Matt could think about was taking Veronica in his arms and burrowing under her covers with her.

“How would I know? I can’t feel my skin.” She shivered uncontrollably, which took away from her royalty but not her sparkle, as she peeled off her gloves.

“Your hands are bleeding.” The evidence stained the wet gauze. He set the hose down and gave in to his need to hold her. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I take complete responsibility.”

She tucked her hands behind her back and stepped away from his embrace. “You’re responsible for my klutzy walking and astounding ability to lose control of a wheelbarrow?”

“Veronica.” He reached for her hand. “Please.” He needed her to let him touch her, not just to ease his thick wad of guilt, but because he was a man who took care of and protected others. He needed her to give him another chance to do that.

Her gaze warmed as soon as he said please, and she stopped moving. “I’m not really going to spend the day under the covers. I’m taking an early lunch hour. Then I’ll go to the office to put in the rest of my time. All I need is a little favor from you.”

“Anything.” He closed the distance between them again and settled his hand on the small of her back.

Her breath slid in and out shakily. He’d like to think it was from his touch, but his ego wasn’t that overblown. The morning’s ordeal was the only thing on her mind. “Explain to Ron that you’re doing the job without me. I’m not returning to his house.”