Chapter Three
“Be a lady. You are from Texas, after all. But when the occasion arises to kick some rear, never show mercy.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #97
Trenton’s four-door Titan sped down Highway 71—a camera crew following closely behind—as Jill sat stewing in the middle of the front seat. Over the last week, she’d heard time and again that Texas Dream Home chose one team from the community where the houses were to be renovated. Not two. The producers had even hinted at this same thing when she’d first talked to them.
And Bluebonnet Construction was the one!
Yet clearly, that wasn’t always the case.
She growled under her breath as she had at the diner. She couldn’t believe she’d been played like that.
It’ll put your business on the map, Jill.
You’ll never want for anything again.
Both those things had been said to her before she’d agreed to sign the contract. Though Heather, Trenton, and Aunt Blu had already convinced her to jump in with both feet, she’d requested a phone call before putting pen to paper. She’d wanted to talk specifics.
The producers she’d spoken with had answered all her questions, saying what Jill needed to hear, and in all honesty, everything had come across as aboveboard during that call. They’d even been up front about their intentions to use Jill’s, Heather’s, and Trenton’s backgrounds as personal interest stories. The unusualness of the three of them having all been orphaned late in their childhoods would show their connection, while how they’d come to arrive at Bluebonnet Farms would endear them to viewers.
Jill had expected that. Their years in foster care would have to be part of the story. It was how they’d met. Why they’d ended up starting a company together. Just as Aunt Blu would eventually be interviewed, as well. Viewers would find it heartwarming to know that out of such tragedy, happy endings could be found. And she was prepared for all of that.
Yet for some reason, she had not been prepared for Cal. At all. Once they’d been chosen to be on the show, Cal hadn’t crossed her mind.
It had crossed theirs, though. In a big way. But what she wanted to know now was if they’d uncovered her past all on their own, or if Cal had gone to them. Had he somehow found out about Aunt Blu entering them into the competition and reached out to the show? He and Aunt Blu used to be close. And Jill knew they stopped to chat any time they saw each other in town.
But if he had done that, then why? Did he hate her that much?
She hated him that much. But still . . . she had a right to that hate. Because he’d been the one to leave!
She fought the urge to growl again. She and Cal had both been too hotheaded back then, but he’d simply refused to see reason that morning. It had to be his way or no way. No delays. No consideration of her wants. What had made it even worse, though, was how he’d been unwilling to believe in her. Even for a second. No matter how much she’d begged.
He’d offered only ridicule—and then he’d walked away.
She’d wanted to kill him.
“We’ve got to at least go to the houses,” Trenton said. Her eyes remained on the road, her hands at ten and two, while Heather had an arm wrapped around Jill’s shoulders. Heather patted Jill’s thigh as Trenton’s eyes flicked from the road to the rearview mirror.
“I can’t believe they brought your marriage into this,” Heather said, attempting to soothe.
Heather was the comforter, but all three of them fully understood that it was so much more than bringing her marriage into this. None of them had openly stated as much, though. Yet. They’d simply driven. And fumed.
Heather patted Jill’s leg again.
And Heather had soothed.
“It’s Aunt Blu,” Trenton said as her phone rang through the truck’s speakers.
“Don’t answer it.” Trenton’s phone had rung three times in the fifteen minutes since they’d driven away, all calls coming from Blu. No doubt someone had been dialing Blu’s number at the same time as Jill had been exiting the café.
Trenton glanced in her rearview again. “Maybe we should just”—she cut a look at Jill—“they’re still following us, Jilly.”
“And likely recording us,” Heather added softly.
Jill squeezed her eyes shut. “Fine,” she forced out. “Just go. You’re right. They’re not going to stop, and I’m doing nothing but making us look like idiots. Let’s just go and get it over with.”
Only, she had no idea what she was supposed to do once they got there.
“We didn’t say you were making us look like idiots,” Heather argued half-heartedly.
Trenton said nothing.
Jill kept her eyes closed. She couldn’t go through with the show now, could she? How could she possibly hold it together if she had to deal with Cal for the next six weeks?
Her chest ached. She’d truly been excited about doing this.
Heather’s phone rang then, deep in the shoulder bag that had dropped to the floor of the truck, and Heather reached down for it at the same time that Trenton made a left and headed back toward Pear Street. Though they’d been driving since leaving the café, it had mostly been in a large loop. They weren’t far away from the houses.
“Tell her we’ll be there soon,” Jill muttered. She hated letting Blu down.
Except, the look that flashed through Heather’s eyes indicated that it wasn’t their foster mother on the phone.
She answered anyway.
Jill couldn’t hear the person on the other end, but Heather’s eyes flicked to Jill as she listened. Her throat moved up and down with a swallow. Then she nodded, closed her eyes, and nodded again.
“Thank you,” Heather whispered. “I’ll let her know.”
She hung up as Trenton hit Pear Street, and the first thing Jill saw was Cal’s black four-wheel-drive truck.
“That was him on the phone.” Jill didn’t bother phrasing it as a question.
“Uh-huh.”
Jill eyed the empty driver’s seat of the truck before scanning the remaining vehicles and people milling about on the closed-off street. There was no sign of Cal. “What did he want?”
Heather didn’t immediately answer.
Trenton pulled to a stop twenty yards behind Cal’s truck, muttering under her breath about how she couldn’t believe they’d done this to them, but Jill ignored her. Her only concern at the moment was what Heather had to say. But when Heather continued her silence, Jill turned to her, finding her foster sister’s usually serene eyes riddled with anxiety.
“What did he want?” Jill repeated. She was hanging on by a mere thread.
“He wanted to . . .” Heather sounded as miserable as Jill felt. “He snuck off to call us. He wanted to make sure you understood that he is our competition—”
Jill grunted in disgust.
“And he said that he”—Heather swallowed—“feels bad for blindsiding you like that.”
“Then why did he do it?” Trenton bit out. Her tone announced that her anger was a close second behind Jill’s.
“He didn’t say why he did it,” Heather continued with a grimace, “but he said that once he got in the café and . . . saw your face . . . that he regretted it.”
Hurt battled with anger. Jill had known he’d had to be involved.
“He apologized?” Heather made the sentence sound like a question.
Jill didn’t bother pointing out that his apology wasn’t accepted.
“He also offered to tell them that filming would have to be delayed.” Heather licked her lips. “Whatever we need him to say, he’ll do it. Whatever you need to happen so that you don’t walk into the upcoming meet and greet mentally unprepared.” She scrunched up her face and finished with reluctance. “After the way you left the diner, he’s concerned that you might lose your . . . shit. On camera.”
Jill’s eyebrows shot up. “My shit?” The audacity of the man. “Cal is worried about me? After he set me up?” She didn’t buy it for a second. “If he’s that concerned, why do it to begin with? Why go to them with the idea?”
“But he didn’t.” Heather’s voice came out with urgency, and Jill swore it also carried a positive lilt.
Jill just stared at her.
“He said they came after him,” Heather explained. “That he didn’t even apply to be on the show. He didn’t even know anything about the competition until they sought him out.”
Jill blinked. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”
Not that it would make it a lot better. He’d still agreed. He’d still kept it hidden from her.
Heather nodded, the light in her eyes now matching the positive spin still heavy in her voice. “That’s what he said. And they made him sign a contract saying that he wouldn’t tell anyone. That he wouldn’t tell you.”
“And you believe him?”
“I don’t,” Trenton grumbled from the other side of the truck.
“I . . .” Heather began, but when Jill glared at her, she let her words trail off.
Heather and Trenton had always had her back when it came to Cal leaving her the way he had. Or so they’d said. But Heather and her damned soft spot.
Jill never knew when it would rear its head at the wrong time.
“I’m just saying . . .” Heather tried again, but her words once again trickled to a stop.
“You’re saying what?” Jill’s voice was hard. Her anger ran deep. “That I shouldn’t be mad about this? That since he supposedly didn’t go to them—and because he’s now apologized so sincerely—then I should just forgive him for being a part of it? Is that what you’re telling me, Heather?” she continued, her words now coming out in a heated rush. “Well, hell. Maybe I should also swallow my pride and show how excited I am to be facing my lying jerk of an ex-husband. Would that make you happy, too?”
“I’m not saying any of those things,” Heather argued.
“Then what are you saying?” Jill yelled.
“The cameras are still watching us.” Trenton spoke in a rapid clip of words, and Jill whipped her gaze to her other foster sister. Heather’s hand touched Jill’s thigh once again, and as if doused with a bucket of ice water, Jill’s fury flagged. Her hands trembled. She knew it wasn’t fair to take her anger out on Heather.
She also knew that Heather truly did have her back. Always.
Even if she might believe that Cal wasn’t entirely the brand of evil Jill knew him to be.
“What am I supposed to do?” Jill whispered to both of them. She covered her mouth as she spoke, just in case the cameras had zoomed in that far. She did not want to face Cal. Not in any sort of situation. She’d sworn to herself that she’d never so much as speak to him again, and she intended to keep that promise.
She also didn’t want to be on the other end of competing with him, because truth be told, there had to be a reason he won all the decent jobs in town. Other than just their bad luck.
Maybe he really was that much better than they were. He had years more experience, and he’d already been incredibly skilled as a teen. Jill had seen it firsthand when he’d worked at the farm for Aunt Blu.
But it was just as possible that Bluebonnet Construction lost out on all those contracts because they weren’t good enough. Or more likely, because everyone in town still worried about her and her “anger issues.” That thought had been in the back of her mind since day one of opening their doors, even though neither she, Heather, nor Trenton had ever suggested it.
“They’re looking for drama,” Jill told her foster sisters now. She had to get herself under control. She’d been through worse than this. “It’s what I’d do if I were creating the show. Drama makes for good TV.”
Trenton swallowed. “So it’ll up the ratings, right?” Her voice came out thin and tight as she tried to put a positive spin on things. “More viewers. More chances to build the business.”
“But we don’t have to give them what they’re after,” Heather insisted. She turned Jill’s face to hers, and the determination in her eyes almost made it through to Jill. “We’re very good at what we do,” Heather said. “You know that. We all know that. And we can win this competition. We can also make it a great show, even without the drama they’re looking for.”
“And what if we aren’t personable enough to pull it off without the drama?” Jill asked.
What if I can’t control my temper when I’m around him? was what she really wanted to ask, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to let her foster sisters down.
“Then they’ll flash the ‘Reynolds charm’ on camera enough to make sure they still capture the viewers,” Trenton answered.
When Jill turned back to her, Trenton glanced down at her hands. She didn’t have to voice her additional thoughts for Jill to follow along with them. The Reynolds charm would add more to the show than the three of them ever could. They were just orphans who’d had the unfortunate circumstances that allowed them to grow up together.
The viewers would fall in love with Cal well before the end of the first episode, and no one would even know who the Bluebonnets were.
“We’re here for you,” Heather said from the other side of the truck. “We’ll do whatever you say. We’ll walk if that’s what you need us to do.”
“Lawyers and legal contracts be damned,” Trenton added under her breath.
Heather reached over and pinched Trenton on the ear.
“Ouch.” Trenton smacked Heather’s hand away. “Stop it.”
“You stop it. We’re supporting Jill in this.”
“I didn’t say we weren’t supporting her.” Trenton glared at Heather before turning a slightly softened gaze back to Jill. Her chin remained thrust forward. “Of course we’re supporting you, Jilly. You know that. I’ll walk, too. Me, you, and Heather. We’re The Three. You just say the word.” Her glare fired back to Heather. “But I was just pointing out the logistics of the situation.”
The phone began ringing through Trenton’s speakers again. Aunt Blu.
No one answered it.
“We’ll figure it out,” Heather said calmly. She took a deep breath, and Jill could tell she was mentally steeling herself to go into battle. Heather liked to pretend she was tough, but on the inside, she was as soft as they came.
Trenton’s mouth opened again, but Jill interjected. “We’re not walking.”
Trenton slammed her mouth shut.
And at that precise moment, Cal Reynolds decided to enter the picture. He turned the corner of the sidewalk on the opposite end of the street, and his gaze landed on Trenton’s truck. He stopped dead in his tracks.
“We’re not walking.” Jill forced the words out again.
Damned if she’d let her ex steal her one opportunity at proving herself. She dug deep into her acting skills, reminding herself that she absolutely could do this. It would just be a matter of being “Jessica Grant” for the next six weeks instead of Jill Sadler.
“And I won’t be losing my shit for anyone,” she added, her voice now a picture of calm. “Especially not for a man whose only purpose in the coming weeks is being a backdrop to showcase our skills.”
This was not only their chance to prove themselves as a viable construction company, but also her opportunity to finally put Cal in his place. Time to show the man he was nothing to her.
She pasted a cheery smile on her face then, looking for all the world as if she had not one care in the world, and took in Trenton and Heather one by one. “Let’s do this, ladies.” She nodded toward Trenton’s door handle. “We have a house to choose. And we have a house full of men to show who the better team is.”
Trenton nodded cautiously, and as she reached for the driver’s door, Heather spoke from Jill’s other side. “Are we taking the dog’s advice?”
Jill froze. “The dog?”
She turned back.
“Bonnie Beckman’s dog,” Heather explained. “He barked at the Cadillac House while out on their walk last week, remember? And he never barks.”
Jill stared at the woman who sat on the seat next to her. Auburn hair swept up into the perfect sloppy bun, a trendy tunic sweater and leggings, and a wide belt that should be lethal the way it accentuated her curves.
Nothing about her indicated that she’d lost her mind.
“Do you want to take the advice of a dog?” Jill asked.
“I’m just saying . . . did you ever once hear him bark while we were over there building that retreat?”
“And Bonnie has made predictions in the past that came true,” Trenton added.
Jill blinked. It was as if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole.
She slowly turned back to Trenton. Had they both lost their minds? “You’re the sensible one,” she told her youngest foster sister.
“I know. But you weren’t paying attention when Bonnie told her story this morning. The dog went absolutely nuts in front of that house. And only in front of that house.”
“Probably because he sensed a ghost!”
The Cadillac House had gotten its name due to Pastor Wainwright once driving his Cadillac through the front door. The story was that he’d returned early from a business trip to discover the silhouette of his wife and another man in the upstairs window. And they hadn’t been up there talking. Though he’d denied to his death that he’d done it on purpose—or that there’d even been a man in the house with his wife—Mr. Wainwright had crashed through the front of the house in anger. In the ensuing chaos, the unnamed other man slipped out the back door and was never heard from again.
Some years later, Mrs. Wainwright died alone in that very room, and the rumor was that her spirit had never left. It remained to this day, waiting for her lover to come back to her.
Heather loved that story.
“I don’t even know what to say to you two.” Jill shook her head in confusion. “We talked about this already. We decided on the Bono House.”
The Bono House had once been owned by a huge fan of Bono, of the ’80s band U2, and the owner spent a fortune decorating it with U2 memorabilia. It had stayed like that through several years of rentals.
Though both houses had been built around the same time, and both were essentially the same style and size, Bono had been renovated several times over the years, while Cadillac had only gone through upgrades when the front of the house had needed to be reconstructed. Chances were good that Cadillac would have more hidden issues. No matter what some dog implied.
“Why would we change our minds now?” Jill asked.
Someone tapped on Trenton’s window before either of them could answer, and Jill looked up to find Patrick smiling in at them. The redheaded cameraman stood to his left.
“Christ,” she muttered.
“Time to put on our game faces,” Heather said, and Trenton added, “But first we vote.”
Jill had no time to object before the other two piped in, both saying “Cadillac” at the same time.
Jill just stared at them. She was not voting for the ghost house.
“Cadillac, it is,” Trenton mumbled, dropping her gaze from Jill’s.
The three of them climbed from the front seat of the truck then, all standing tall and not acting in the least as if they were walking straight into the firing line. But then Jill mentally faltered. Because she realized they were all still wearing their mics. And they’d all been hot the entire time.