Chapter Thirteen
“Be a guiding light, even when you don’t think others are watching.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #1
“There’s my personal bodyguard.”
Jill grinned like a naughty child when Len looked up from where he stood at the buffet table, then she opened her mouth when he speared a meatball and held it out to her.
“‘Bodyguard’ implies I’d take a hit for you,” he informed as she chewed. With his plate already groaning under the weight of the food craft services stocked on a daily basis, he continued piling on more.
“And you’re saying you wouldn’t take a hit for me?” Jill moved along beside him. They’d both taken a break from filming, and though Len had headed outside on his own, Jill had found herself tagging along behind him.
“Depends on who’s doing the hitting,” Len confessed. “If the guy is smaller than me”—he looked down at himself, as if to double-check how massive he was, before lifting a shoulder in a casual shrug—“then I probably would.”
“Awww . . . Lenny.” Jill leaned in and hugged up against the man’s arm, rubbing her cheek on him as if she were a cat looking for love. “You’re such a sweetheart.”
He laughed at her teasing, and shoved another bite of food in her mouth.
“Mmmm.” She moaned at the burst of cream that spilled from the pastry he’d given her. “Yummy.”
She grabbed another cream puff before continuing to trail along behind him, and found the background noises of saws, hammers, and just general construction-site conversation to be comforting. She wasn’t used to working on jobs this large, and though they still had almost three weeks to go, she already knew she’d miss it when it ended. And not just the work, but filming. As well as Len.
They reached the end of the food table, and when Len looked back at her, he seemed to realize for the first time that she’d come out of the house alone. Usually, either Trenton or Heather could be found at her side, but Heather had off-site appointments with potential clients, and Trenton had run out to do some errands.
“Just you?” Len asked. He shoved enough food for three people into his mouth.
“Just me.” Jill watched him chew. “You have the same manners as Heather, did you know that?” Heather was sweet, but she could be atrocious at the dinner table. “Which means that you’re gross, Len. In case you didn’t catch on to that fact. That why you have the hots for my friend?”
Len flicked crumbs in Jill’s face. “Who said I had the hots for her?”
“Uhhhh . . . Friday night?” They stepped out from under the canopy of the food tent back into the midday sun. “You went out with her, remember?”
“Right. And you went with Little Red.” He looked down his nose at her. “That mean you have the hots for him?”
The man had a point. “Touché.” She stole a miniature quiche from his plate. “So you’re not heartbroken that you and Heather didn’t . . .”
She let the words trail off as she looked up at him. He hadn’t seemed upset when she and Heather had left the bar Friday night, but she wanted to make sure. This was the first opportunity she’d gotten to speak with him alone.
He gulped half a soda before answering. “Friday night was just a good time. A man and woman can have some fun and still keep it light, you know?”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” He looked down at her again. “Then tell me . . . can a man and woman step outside together—late at night at a bar—and keep it light?”
Jill swallowed. She might have known he’d bring that up.
“They can,” she answered carefully. Then, without meaning to, she turned her gaze to the Cadillac House, where she could see Cal standing just outside the back door, papers in hand, going over something with one of his trades. “It was nothing,” she assured Len. She didn’t want him asking questions. “Cal was just trying to get in my head. About the competition,” she added hurriedly.
And he had gotten in her head. But not about the competition so much as about him. As a man.
But then, she’d gotten into his, as well. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have shown up at Heather’s Saturday morning with jealousy seeping from every pore. Nor would he have made the first two days of this week a tightly wound tension fest. They hadn’t spoken at all, yet everywhere she looked, he seemed to be there.
He glanced in her direction then, not catching her eye, but her stomach did a little flip at the way he did a quick scan down the length of her body.
Then he promptly returned his attention to the documents in his hand.
Jill let out a breath of air, and Len said, “Yep. It was about the competition. That’s what I figured.”
She ignored him.
The two of them stood together, both eating off his plate, as they watched the rusted metal roof being removed from the Cadillac House. Then Jill glanced at their house, and she pictured the architectural shingles that would be installed later that week. She knew Cal had chosen to stick with metal, which was more in keeping with the original style of the home. Had she and Heather made a mistake in going with shingles?
She’d failed so many times in the past. With her mother. In Hollywood.
With Cal.
She didn’t want to let Heather and Trenton down, but she had no idea if they were doing enough.
“I’ve got to win this competition.” She spoke under her breath, not realizing she’d voiced the thought until Len glanced at her.
He shoved the last of his food in his mouth. “Why’s that?”
“Because I want to win.” She tried to blow off the moment. The last thing she wanted was her insecurities showing. “Isn’t that why people compete?”
“In this competition?” He tossed the empty plate in the trash. “Most sign on just to be on TV. Or for the benefit the town gets.”
Or they might sign on to tick the other off, she thought, glancing back over to search for Cal. She found him on the roof this time, tool belt hanging low on his hips. He stooped to one knee, his jeans pulling taut against his rear, and she forgot to breathe.
Damn. She so wanted that man.
“Earth to Jill,” Len said softly, and Jill jerked her gaze from Cal.
“What?”
Len smirked. “Geez, woman. Do I need to call the fire department?”
“No. Smart-ass,” she grumbled. She turned her back to Cal. “You do not need to call the fire department. And for the record, I know that winning this competition is really only about bragging rights.” She suddenly wanted him to understand. “I’m all for doing it for the house donation the town gets. We’re all about giving back. But what you don’t get is that we’re also trying to reinvent ourselves.”
Len seemed confused. “From what?”
“From Queens of the She-Sheds.”
“Oh yeah.” He snapped two meaty fingers together. “The retreats. The show is considering doing a segment on them.”
“What?” No. That would only add to the problem. “Can’t you talk them out of it?”
“Why would I do that? They’re great. Granted, I’ve only seen them in the B-roll footage that was shot before renovations started, but I have to tell you, that’s a niche market you could own around here.”
“We pretty much do own it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Jill motioned back toward Cal. “That’s the problem. I want that. We want that.”
“You want Cal?” Len didn’t even try to hold back his snort of laughter as Cal looked down at them—apparently after hearing his name—and Jill wanted to punch her new friend in the gut.
“I’m going to murder you for that,” she muttered. But Cal shifted his gaze to be solely on her, and she had trouble remembering what she was supposed to be upset about.
The naughty sparkle was back in his eyes. He’d been doing that for the last two days. A sparkle that implied that he knew things about her. Which he did. But they were teenage things. He hadn’t seen anything when he’d been in her bedroom the other day.
Of course, she’d returned her own look—as she was doing now. It said, I know things, too. And sometimes it tacked on I want to know more things. Which Cal might just be reading correctly.
Jill captured her lip between her teeth, trying her best not to let her mouth turn into a smile, and as she’d caught herself doing all week, she fought Cal for control in the game of who would look away first.
“Earth to Jill, again.”
“Shut up, Len.”
But Len didn’t shut up. Instead he laughed, and though it was seriously hard not to look at him—or to punch him when he kept laughing—her eyes remained locked on Cal’s.
At least, until Len said, “You do know, Patrick is eventually going to get you two on camera.”
She looked at him. “No, he’s not.”
She turned and headed back to the Bono House without another word. She needed to get to work. And to quit playing games with Cal. That wasn’t the smartest move she’d ever made, but nonetheless, she’d found herself unable to stop.
She and Len entered the house together, and as Len retrieved his camera, Trenton’s truck pulled into the drive. Jill heard the squeal of the tires and looked up in time to catch Trenton barreling out of the cab, leaving the door open behind her.
Jill rushed through the house. “What’s wrong?” she asked the second she hit the front door, but the grin on Trenton’s face indicated that “wrong” was the incorrect word.
Trenton held up a notebook in front of her. “Look.”
Only, it wasn’t a notebook. It was their calendar.
“They’re in?” Jill snatched the calendar away from Trenton, and Len and Trenton looked over her shoulder as she stared down at the photo on the front cover.
“What a great shot.” Len echoed Jill’s thought. “I didn’t realize you guys had made a calendar.”
“They printed the first batch today,” Trenton told them. She quickly explained the reason for the calendars before adding, “I stopped in to check on them, and was handed a full box.” She motioned back toward the truck, as if considering returning to retrieve the others, but in the end, took back the one from Jill’s hands. She began flipping through the pages, showing off their work, and as she did, Josie—who’d been installing trim in the master bedroom—appeared in the doorway.
Jill motioned Josie over. “Come look.”
“I’m October,” Josie offered. She crossed to them. “Of this year.”
It was an eighteen-month calendar due to the money needing to be raised that summer, and Josie and her retreat had been chosen for the fourth month. Trenton found October, and Jill remembered how special this one had been to build. Unshed tears burned the back of her nose as she studied the photo along with Josie.
“I’ve never been more proud than the day they came out and took that picture,” Josie told them. She traced the outline of the building. “Without you three . . . Without Blu . . .”
Jill swallowed around the tightness in her throat, and pulled the other woman in for a hug. Josie had worked so hard to get where she was, and at twenty, she was doing pretty darned good.
Then Jill realized that Len had lifted his camera and started recording. His lens was pointed at Josie. “Tell me how you came to have the retreat,” he prodded.
Jill wanted to tell him to stop. That this would only bring more attention to the sheds. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she stepped nearer to Trenton, and the two of them let the younger woman have the floor.
“It’s not a retreat for me,” Josie told the camera. Her voice was steady, but Jill could see the youth in her eyes. “It’s my home. I moved in with Blu when I was sixteen. After my dad kicked me out. But when I turned eighteen”—she shook her head as if she were as unsure of the outcome today as she’d been back then—“I needed to go. Only, I had nowhere to go.”
She tossed a quick glance at Jill, and Jill nodded encouragement.
“I had a job at the grocery store.” Josie turned back to Len. “I’d been working there since I moved to Red Oak Falls. And one of the women who’d been there a lot longer than me said she had some space on the back of her property that I could rent. For real cheap. She told me I could put a trailer on it,” Josie explained. She licked her lips and stared straight at the camera. “But I’d been watching the Bluebonnet girls since I moved in. I admired them. What they did for women.” She glanced at Jill and Trenton again. “And that’s what I wanted. I wanted to be a part of them.”
Jill snuck a glance at Len, noticing that for once, the man’s lips, half hidden by his too-full beard, weren’t smiling. He stood mesmerized as he filmed Josie’s story, and Jill acknowledged to herself that this would make a great segment on the show.
“Josie helped build it,” Jill said softly. “She worked her rear off to get her home. And she’s worked for us ever since.”
Josie’s eyes glistened as she admitted, “I’d probably be on the streets without them. They changed my life. I have skills that can last me a lifetime already, and I’m only twenty. I plan to go to college someday. I will be a success. And when I am, I hope I can do something half as special as what these ladies have done for so many others.”
Len turned the camera on them as Josie finished talking, and caught the three of them huddled together. Heather had come in while the other woman had been speaking, and they’d silently taken each other’s hands. And as they stood there, no one in the room saying a word, Jill found herself standing a bit taller than usual. Because for the first time, she realized that they weren’t just building sheds in backyards.
Friday of week four rolled around, and with the sounds of a new metal roof being installed overhead, Cal stood in Mrs. Wainwright’s room, watching an interview taking place down below.
A couple of the producers had been talking with people from the crowd throughout the day. They’d mostly crossed the road, pointing a microphone at whoever got their attention, but occasionally someone would be brought over and wired up. During those times, Cal could overhear most of the conversations. There’d been more than one story relayed concerning how he and Jill never spoke, and how the people in town found humor in this.
Cal knew they’d been placing bets for years on how long Jill would stay in a room once he entered, but as he stood there listening to yet another telling of the situation, the idea of what he and Jill had once meant to each other—faced with how far they’d swung in the other direction—bothered him. He’d never imagined they could have ended up that way.
Thankfully, it seemed to be swinging back. Though just how far he wanted the pendulum to tilt, he continued to grapple with.
He closed the window, unwilling to listen to any more, and searched the crowd for Blu. She was scheduled for an interview today.
After Jill had encouraged him to visit her, he’d called and invited Blu to dinner. She’d insisted he let her cook for him instead, so he’d spent Sunday evening at her place, and when she’d opened her door to him, they’d hugged long and tight. Both of them had understood his being there meant that he’d be doing it again in the weeks to come. Blu had always been like a mother to him, and he wouldn’t step away from that again.
A soft knock sounded behind him, but he didn’t turn. It would be Mrs. Wainwright. She toyed with him almost every day now.
If anything was left in this room overnight, he’d find it moved the next morning. One day he’d come in to his tool belt—which he’d intentionally placed just outside the bedroom door—hanging over the railing in the landing. She’d actually left the room. So he gave it right back to her. He changed the radio station to ones he knew she didn’t enjoy as much, and one night he’d left every light burning downstairs. She hadn’t liked that one, though. She’d let him know by not speaking to him for two days.
The rap sounded again, and Cal finally glanced over his shoulder. He wished he could get a glimpse of her. Only, it was Jill who stood at the door.
“Hey.” Both surprise and happiness coursed through him.
“Hey.” Her eyes made a sweep of the room.
“What are you doing here? Aren’t you afraid you’ll get caught speaking to me?” he teased. They’d been flirting all week. Mostly from a distance, since she continued to evade Patrick’s attempts to get them on screen together.
She nodded toward the window. “Everyone’s outside.”
“That they are.” Cal went over to her. Even if speaking to him was removed from the equation, this was still the first time she’d been the one to seek him out. “So, did you want something?” He stopped at the door, but he didn’t touch her like he wanted to.
“I wanted to . . .” Her gaze swept the room again. “See if there had been any more ghost activity.”
“You came over to check on Mrs. W?”
Hesitation touched her gaze. “I did.”
Sure she did. He glanced behind him, as if conferring with the ghost. “Then the first thing you need to know is that she doesn’t like the generic term ‘ghost.’ It’s Mrs. Wainwright or lady of the house.”
Jill’s eyes widened. “You’re on speaking terms with her?”
That happiness he’d felt upon seeing her grew. “Only when she calls me by the name that I prefer.”
“And that’s what?”
“Prince Cal is my all-time favorite, but I also answer to Master Reynolds.”
That seemed to make it sink in that he was messing with her, and he laughed at the outraged look on her face.
“Cal.”
“Mmmm.” He leaned closer. “I do love it when you say my name like that.”
“Stop it.” She punched him in the arm, and he grabbed her hand and reeled her into the room.
“No hitting the competition.” He didn’t tug hard, but he brought her close enough to feel the heat coming off her body.
“Then the competition shouldn’t be teasing me,” she murmured.
He so wanted to kiss her. “I like teasing you.”
He also got the feeling that she was ready to be kissed.
He twined his fingers with hers. There was no one else on the upper floor, though anyone could show up at any minute. Or spot them from downstairs if they happened to pass through and look up at the right angle. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her. Things had changed between them over the course of the week, whether either of them admitted it or not.
“How would you like it if I teased you back?” she asked, and his nod came quick.
“I’d like that a lot.”
She laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”
But then she lowered her gaze to his lips, and her eyes turned hazy. In a blink, his jeans grew tight in the crotch. She hadn’t looked at him like that in years.
Just as he was about to lean in, to take what he wanted, a grin the size of Texas popped on her face, and he groaned instead of kissing her.
“Seriously? That’s not right, Sadler.”
She shrugged. “That’s teasing.”
She pulled her hand from his and went to the window, and Cal missed her already.
“Dang,” Jill muttered as she looked out. “I was hoping they’d forget about her.”
“Forget about who?” He stepped up beside her to see that Bonnie Beckman and her dog, Winston, were now being interviewed. The animal had on a rhinestone collar that glistened in the sun. “What’s wrong with Bonnie?”
Granted, Bonnie was somewhat unique. But everyone loved her.
Jill nibbled at her bottom lip as she continued watching the activity going on below, before eventually casting him a cautious look. “Have you ever seen the retreat we built for her?”
He shook his head. “Never been to her place.”
“It’s a vacation home for her dog.”
He blinked. “A vacation home?”
She wrinkled her nose and nodded. “For her dog. We thought we were building the typical ‘man cave’ for a woman. You know, a she-shed? Like we do. Overstuffed furniture, lots of natural light. Flowers and blinged-out accessories. That sort of thing. It’s as decked out as they come. The woman definitely had money to throw at it. And we knew she’d asked for several extras for her dog. We got that. People love their pets. There’s even one of those communication systems that she can connect to with her phone. In case she wants to speak to Winston when she’s not there,” she added. “Not that she ever goes anywhere without Winston. But at the café the morning the show started filming, she comes over and she shares with us—on camera, mind you—that what we really built was a doggie dream home. Where she’s the guest.”
Cal stared. “That’s an impression to make.”
“Right? See why I’d hoped they’d forget about her?”
“I’m sure Patrick will make sure the story paints you in a nice light.”
“Please. I’m sure Patrick will exploit either of us in any way that he can.”
Soft music started playing from the corner then, and Jill tossed a quick glance in that direction. She then turned a brilliant smile up to him. “Bonnie also predicted that whoever got this house would come out the winner because Winston barked at the house while they were on a walk. I suspect he was barking at Mrs. Wainwright.”
Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “That’s why you wanted this house.”
She shook her head. “I never wanted this house.”
“Yes, you did. I saw the way you looked at it.”
She put her back to the window, still looking up at him, and she graced him with a desperate oh-my-God-I-have-to-have-it look. The same one he’d seen several times the morning of their initial walk-through.
His expression fell. “That was all fake?”
“Every bit of it.”
She’d been acting? He couldn’t believe it.
He’d had so much trouble with this house. As expected, of course. The wiring. The plumbing. Mold. They’d even had to replace several joists under the flooring. At the same time, he’d heard very little of any similar issues coming from the Bono House. The house he’d intended to choose. And that had all been because she’d been playing him.
He took a half step back.
“Awww.” She pouted. She reached out and patted his chest. “Don’t feel bad, Calhoun. I just have skills that you don’t.”
“You’re . . .” He closed his mouth when he realized it was hanging open. Then he captured her hand beneath his, trapping it to his chest.
Damn. He had to admit to being impressed. He also never would have guessed.
And then he wondered what else he didn’t know about Jill. Or if he’d ever really known her at all.
He’d once thought he’d known her. He’d thought she was a bit of a dreamer—yet at the same time, grounded in reality. He’d thought she’d loved him. Would stand with him.
He’d thought she would fill the hole inside him.
But then she’d insisted on Hollywood. And he’d laughed in her face.
“If it makes you feel better . . .” She tugged at her hand, but he kept it tight in his. Then he retook that half step he’d given up, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
“If it makes me feel better . . . what?”
Jill stared at his lips. “Heather and Trenton did want this house,” she whispered. Her breaths grew heavier. “But I knew it was trouble from the minute I saw it.”
Cal nodded. He attempted to keep things light. “Are you calling Mrs. W trouble?”
“The woman’s as bad as you.”
But there was nothing light in either of their tones. Instead there was something happening in the room. And he hoped it was the reason Jill had sought him out.
“Tell me why you came over here today.” He took another step closer, bumping the front of his body against her, and as she opened her mouth to answer, he caught sight of a woman on the ground pointing up at them.
“I came because I wanted to see you.”
Cal nodded. That wasn’t enough. He shifted them so his back was to the window, so no one could see Jill. “And what else?”
Her eyes searched his, and he saw the plea inside. She didn’t want to have to say it.
“Tell me you want me to kiss you, Jilly.” He breathed in the same air as her. “That you miss me. That you need me.” He leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “I need to know it isn’t just me who’s this desperate.”
She turned her face slowly, and as she spoke, her lips grazed his. “It isn’t just you.”
Euphoria erupted. It shifted the low buzz that had been humming since she’d first shown up into heated excitement, and though everything inside him screamed for him to take the kiss—now—he paused.
He shouldn’t have, and he knew it. They’d been spotted. Their time was limited.
But he needed this moment.
He lifted both hands to the back of Jill’s head, sliding his fingers through the long, silky tresses. And instead of settling his lips on hers, he angled her chin slightly up, her head away. He wanted to look at her up close. Just like this. He wanted to see that what she’d said was echoed in her eyes. And he wanted to make sure she saw it in his, too.
This was crazy. They were competitors. In this current competition, and in their day-to-day lives. They were ancient history. And they were likely still explosive—and not only in the good way.
But Cal couldn’t back away from it.
“Jill.”
She nodded. It was a barely-there movement, but it was deliberate. “Kiss me, Cal. That’s why I came over here today. I need to know, too.”
That was what he wanted.
He closed his eyes, kept his hands cupping her in front of him, and he angled his mouth over hers.
“There they are.”
They froze at the sound of Len’s voice.
“Fuck,” Cal whispered. His lips brushed hers. He’d waited too long.
He opened his eyes, expecting to see horror in Jill’s. Knowing she would pull back. Or shove him away. But she stayed in his hands instead, her eyes giving nothing away, and together they turned to find Patrick standing inside the bedroom door. Len and a sound guy stood just behind him.
“That’s what we’ve been waiting for,” Patrick exclaimed. He spread his arms wide. “Perfect.”
It was anything but perfect.
But still . . . Jill didn’t move.
The music from the corner had ceased, and Cal looked down at Jill again, to find that she was looking at Len.
“Your mics,” Len told them. “They’re still hot. We knew you were together.”
“Not to mention the crowd outside,” Patrick added. “They went crazy when they saw you in the window.”
Jill finally put a step of distance between them, and Cal let his arms drop.
“Someone saw us?” Jill asked. She looked over at the window.
“They thought it was the ghost and her lover.”
Cal’s brow arched at the producer’s words. He’d been unsure if Patrick knew the story. No one had brought it up throughout the last four weeks.
“No ghost,” Cal told him. He felt protective of the woman who lived in this room.
“No lover,” Jill added, bringing Cal’s gaze back to hers. He hoped she wasn’t implying . . .
But when their eyes connected, it wasn’t pushing him away that he saw . . . but laughter.
“I give up,” she declared. Her eyes glowed with humor, and she raised her hands in the air. Laughter poured out of her. “I absolutely give up. All this time, I’ve avoided being caught with you. And I’ve done a darned good job of it, too. But when he finally does catch me . . .” She let out a laughing sigh and turned to the other man. “Fine, Patrick. Sit us down together, if that’s what you want. I’ll do it. But then, will you please leave us alone?” She speared Cal with one last look. “Because I might just want to finish what I started here.”
She marched out of the room, and when Patrick swung a shocked expression Cal’s way, Cal motioned to the door. “Go. Do what she says before she changes her mind.”
And he did not want her to change her mind. He didn’t give a crap about the interview. The producers could piece together whatever they wanted after the fact, even if they never got Cal and Jill on screen together. But that last part. About finishing what she’d started.
He nodded as he followed the crew from the room. He wanted that a lot.