Chapter Four
Wednesday evening, Sam stood in front of the large Minnesota Wild calendar on his kitchen wall. He held a green Sharpie in one hand and the city league hockey schedule for his team in the other.
When his cousin Andrea’s son and daughter, fraternal twins, expressed an interest in playing hockey, Sam had jumped at the chance to coach, especially since their dad’s schedule with the National Guard prevented him from taking it on. Sam had started his coaching career with the twins when they were Mini-Mites, then Mites, and now they’d switched to a Saint Paul league for nine- and ten-year-olds. Their team would actually get to compete in the tournament this year, and he couldn’t wait. Sam had played hockey as a kid, and still did occasionally. He really got a kick out of coaching, and spending time with his cousins was an added perk.
Sam wrote times and locations for their practices and games at various Saint Paul parks and indoor rinks. In no time at all, November and December were covered in green. Stepping back, he looked for open times when he could work on Haley Cooper’s disaster relief project. What with the other jobs he had going on and hockey, he wouldn’t be able to do more than complete the tear-outs before Thanksgiving.
He grabbed a pad of paper and wrote down a few possible openings. A tentative plan of action in mind, Sam grabbed his cell phone from the counter and searched for Haley’s number in his contacts. He had looked up the meaning of lothario. No way was he a selfish seducer of women, nor was he sexually irresponsible.
Ms. Cooper had misjudged and looked down her nose at him. That got under his skin. Call it pride or whatever, it still bugged him. Of course, he hadn’t helped matters by making a pass at her, and his reputation as the handsiest handyman in the Twin Cities had gone viral. He could see how she’d come to her conclusions, no matter how wrong she might be. He went a little breathless as he pushed Call. What was it about her that made him so nervous?
“Hello?” she answered after the second ring.
He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Ms. Cooper, this is Sam Haney. Have you had a chance to look through the catalogs I left for you?”
“Why, yes I have, Mr. Haney. Thank you for dropping them off for me.”
Was that a smirk he detected? Amazing. She managed to convey a facial expression through tone alone. “Did you find anything you like?”
“Yes, but I want to make a trip to Home Depot or Lowe’s to take a look at everything before I decide, and I’d appreciate it if you’d do the measuring before we order. I don’t want to mess up on anything.”
“Of course.” Her voice sounded ultra-feminine and slightly husky over the phone—when not smirking, anyway. He stared at his calendar, searching for another open spot. “Do you want me to go with you when you check out the products?”
“Hmm. I don’t know if that’s necessary, but thanks for the offer.”
“It’s up to you.” Her rejection chafed, which made no sense. He wasn’t pursuing her. He wasn’t interested in pursuing anyone, for that matter. “If you’d like, I’m available to offer my professional opinion on materials. I’m familiar with the companies that produce quality products and those that don’t.”
“I’ll think about it and get back to you.”
In other words, no. “OK, it’s fine either way,” he said, pumping positive into his voice. “The reason I called is that I have some possible dates for the tear-outs, but we won’t be able to get to the wiring, plumbing or installs until after Thanksgiving.” He ran the dates by her. “It’ll take a few weeks for the materials to arrive once we do the ordering, longer if they’re custom.”
“Just a minute,” she said. “I have to get to my calendar.”
They went back and forth about dates and times, finally arriving at a couple that worked for both of them. “Good.” Sam added more green to his calendar. “I’ll let you know when the dumpster will be delivered, and we’ll begin gutting the bathroom next Saturday morning. I’ll bring my brother along to help carry heavy items out of the house.”
“I’m going to help,” she reminded him. “Don’t forget. I want to learn how to do this stuff. That’s part of the deal.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he assured her. He’d be able to show off his knowledge and skill. That shouldn’t excite him like it did. He shook it off. She’d mostly be underfoot. “Next Saturday then. Have a great week.”
“You too.”
He hit End Call and dialed his brother’s number. Have a great week? When had he turned into a Walmart senior greeter?
“Hey, Sam,” Wyatt answered.
“Hey. Are you free next Saturday morning to help with a tear-out?”
“Let me check.” Wyatt sighed into the phone as he moved through his apartment. “Is this for the woman whose mother set you up?”
“Yes. Does that make a difference to your availability?”
“Nah, just curious. And yes, I’m free on the twenty-first. Can’t wait to get a look at her.”
“A look is all you’re going to get.” Now, why had that flown out of his mouth? His brother always clammed up and turned several shades of red in the presence of strangers—especially if those strangers happened to be attractive women. Wyatt posed no threat in the competing-for-women department, not that they were competing. Was it because Sam saw Haley Cooper as his own personal source of irritation? “That’s all either of us is going to get,” he tossed out for good measure.
“Oh, that’s right. Gramps has you on a short leash.” Wyatt laughed. “I heard you’re on personal probation.”
“Whatever.” Sam dropped the Sharpie into the catchall basket he kept on his kitchen counter. “Just be here at eight on the twenty-first.”
“No problem. What’re you doing for dinner tonight? You want to go grab a burger?”
“Not tonight. I’m just going to hang out here.” He scanned his apartment. The walls were a neutral shade of rental-white and unadorned. A very large smart TV and entertainment center took up an entire wall in his living room, with a nice comfy La-Z-Boy recliner couch against the opposite wall angled just right to play video games or watch sports with a few buddies. The couch even had beverage holders for their beer cans. “If you want, you can join me here for frozen pizza and a video game. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Nah, but thanks. That reminds me, Josey is up in arms again.”
Sam frowned. His sister definitely had middle-child issues. “What about this time?”
“She says the name of our company is sexist. She wants Grandpa Joe to drop the ‘sons’ in Haney & Sons Construction and Handyman Service.”
Josey had it rough in their business. There weren’t many women carpenters or plumbers, and she was a Haney, though obviously not a son. She, too, was a partner in the family business. He could see her point. “Thanks for the warning.”
He and Wyatt ended their call, and Sam headed for his refrigerator—Ms. Cooper coming to mind as he glanced at his calendar. What had Haley’s mother been thinking? What had she hoped to accomplish by setting him and her daughter up the way she had?
That was the burning question, and it was like an itch he couldn’t reach. Why on earth would such an attractive, intelligent and interesting woman need setting up, anyway? He wanted to get to the bottom of that mystery in the worst way.
Haley sat at her desk and twiddled her pen between her finger and thumb while staring into space. She should be typing up the brief she’d been given, but her mind . . . well, her mind was on kitchen cabinets and countertops, bathroom vanities, floor tiles and the hot handyman who would be installing everything.
What had her mom intended with her meddling, and how could Haley convince her to keep her nose out of her personal life? She had to find some way to make the whole setup backfire, that’s how. To do that, she had to ferret out why her mother had done what she’d done. “Special touch, my ass,” she muttered under her breath.
“Hey, you want to go out for lunch today? It’s noon already.” Kathy stepped into her office. Calling the closet-size room an office was stretching it, but at least she had her own space.
“Definitely.” Haley’s stomach gurgled in response to the prospect of food.
“I was thinking Panera or The Local. What are you in the mood for?”
“The Local.” She opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled out her purse. “It’s nice to have someone bring our food to us.” Both restaurants were located on Minneapolis’s Nicollet Mall and within walking distance via the skyway from Bremmer, Stevens & Schmitt, the law office where she worked. “Is Felicia coming?”
Felicia poked her head around Kathy’s shoulder. “Right here.”
“Good. We need to talk.” Haley rose from her place and grabbed her sweater. “Let’s go.”
The three of them trekked through the crowded LaSalle Plaza skyway toward the US Bank lobby escalator down to street level. They dashed across Nicollet Mall through the cold and entered The Local, a popular Irish pub and restaurant. The delicious smells inside enveloped Haley, and her empty stomach rumbled again.
She gave her name to the hostess, who handed her a pager and told her there’d be a short wait. Haley pulled her sweater close and peered out the window at the overcast day. “It looks like we’re going to get snow, and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.” She huddled against the wall with her friends.
“Have you told Felicia about . . . er . . . Saturday’s handyman fiasco?” Kathy asked.
Felicia’s eyes widened. “Come again?”
“No. I haven’t really had the chance.” As she and Kathy had left her house on Saturday, she’d asked Kathy to keep it to herself during the club crawl. Haley hadn’t wanted the new intern to hear about her latest humiliation. She glanced at the huddled crowd surrounding them. “Let’s wait until we’re seated, and then I’ll bring her up to speed.”
“You won’t believe it.” Kathy laughed. “Haley’s mom hired a handyman to help put her house back together.”
“OK.” Felicia’s expression clouded with confusion. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“It’s a weird thing,” Kathy told her.
The pager in Haley’s hand began to vibrate, signaling their table was ready. She handed the pager back to the hostess, and the three of them followed her to a booth. Once they were seated and had ordered, Haley told Felicia everything that had happened and how Sam had made a pass at her.
“He said he doesn’t normally do the touching part until after the job is done, but he was willing to make an exception in my case.” She leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Can you believe that?” Should she feel as flattered as she did? Probably not. “My own mother set me up for . . . for a one-night stand with the infamous Sam Haney.”
Felicia sat back with a stunned look on her face. “Just how hot is this Hands-On-Haney?”
“Oh, he’s definitely an eleven and a half on a scale of one to ten,” Haley said. “But he’s a total hound dog.”
Kathy grinned. “I think you mean horndog.”
“Whatever,” Haley muttered.
Felicia’s brow rose. “Can we trade mothers?”
“I asked the exact same thing.” Kathy laughed.
“You’re missing the point,” Haley huffed. No matter what Trudy’s intentions might be, her meddling hurt. Obviously she didn’t believe Haley could get a date on her own. She bit her lip. Dammit, if she wanted to date, she could. She just wasn’t there yet.
“I want to teach Trudy a lesson, but I can’t figure out what she was thinking. What did she hope to achieve? If I knew that, I could come up with a plan that would end her meddling for good.”
“Oh, that’s easy.” Felicia tapped the table with her finger. “Let’s look at the facts.”
“Right,” Kathy said, leaning forward. “The facts, like it’s been around seven months since Michael left. How many dates have you gone on in that time?”
“None, but—”
“Look, no dates in seven months, and that poor bungalow of yours has turned into your own personal punching bag.” Felicia tapped the table again. “Mama bear sees you’re not over Michael. She sees you’re not moving on. She hears this radio show, and thinks to herself, baby bear needs a nudge in the right direction.”
“Mama bear thinks baby bear needs to get laid.” Kathy giggled.
“But . . . but . . . Trudy knows I’d never do a one one-night stand. It’s just not in my nature.” Haley frowned. “So, why do this? What kind of mother encourages her daughter to—”
“You’re a grown woman, Haley, not a teenager, and I don’t think Trudy expected you to act on Sam’s offer.” Felicia canted her head and studied her. “I think—and this is just my opinion—I think maybe your mom hoped you’d be flattered by the come-on, and that it might inspire you to get out there and date again. There’s nothing like a hot guy’s attention to make a woman feel desirable. Right?”
“That’s it!” Kathy clapped her hands together. “Your mom is trying to nudge you into dating again, and Sam is her means to that end.” She leaned forward and placed her forearms on the table. “You want to teach Trudy a lesson?”
“I do.” Haley nodded. “I really do.”
“Then date the handyman.”
“What?” Haley blinked. “I . . . I can’t do that. He’s . . . he’s not dating material.”
“I’m not saying marry the handyman.” Kathy shook her head. “Just ask him out. Date him, and let your mom know. The last thing she wants or expects is to see you with the Twin Cities’ most infamous man-whore. She hired him to give you a spark, a jolt to your libido to get you moving forward again. As stereotypical as it sounds, mamas still want their daughters to marry and give them grandchildren. Thanks to that weasel Michael, you’re stalled.”
“At a complete standstill,” Felicia agreed, nodding like a bobblehead.
“Your mother is expecting Sam the Handyman to jump-start your dormant hormones,” Kathy continued.
“Exactly.” Felicia waggled her eyebrows. “She’s hoping Sam will give your love life a little mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”
Thankfully, their food arrived and Haley didn’t have to respond. Absurd. Date the handsiest handyman in the state of Minnesota? She couldn’t. Nope. Absolutely out of the question. She shuddered at the thought of where his hands, mouth and man bits had been. Although . . . it certainly would give Trudy Cooper the shock of a lifetime, and it might make her think twice before plotting out Haley’s life ever again. Just because she went out with him didn’t mean she had to sleep with him. What was she thinking? She couldn’t go out with him. She was way too attracted to him, and she didn’t need to play with fire to know she’d get blistered. He was a complete man-ho. “Nope. Can’t.”
“Can’t what?” Kathy asked.
“I can’t date the handyman.” She speared her fork into a piece of roast beef on her plate and swooshed it around in the gravy. How many women had Sam slept with? Was it a Guinness World Book of Records number? Another shudder racked through her. Her one lover to Sam’s X number of partners. No. She was not the fling type, and she couldn’t see herself getting involved with a man who saw sex solely as a recreational sport.
Felicia peered over her soda glass at Haley. “What are you afraid of, Haley?”
She bristled. “I’m not afraid. I just have an overabundance of common sense.” She would have to come up with some other way to press home to her mother that her meddling was unacceptable.
“So.” Felicia sipped her soda and put the glass down. “Did that cute guy you were dancing with at Ground Zero ask for your number?”
Her mouth full of food, Haley nodded.
“Has he called?”
She swallowed. “No. I told him I wasn’t comfortable giving out my number, and he gave me his instead.”
“Are you going to call him?” Kathy’s fork stopped halfway between the plate and her mouth.
“Sure.”
Her two friends exchanged a look.
“Maybe,” Haley muttered.
Another look passed between Kathy and Felicia, this one involving raised eyebrows.
Probably not. Sighing, Haley focused on her lunch.
Sam parked his van in front of Haley’s house and continued to grip the steering wheel. His heart should not be racing like this. Maybe something was wrong with him. He’d better schedule an appointment for a physical come Monday. That thought only made things worse. He hated going to the doctor.
“You gonna shut off the engine, or are we gonna spend the entire morning sitting in the van?” Wyatt asked, looking a little puzzled.
“What do you think?” Sam shut off the engine and glanced at Haley’s front door. He drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, trying to slow his heart rate. “OK. I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” Wyatt frowned. “Since when do you need to get ready to step out of the van? Is there something you haven’t told me? Does Ms. Cooper have a couple of badass Rottweilers ready to attack us or something?”
“No.” Without further explanation, Sam opened his door and climbed out. Wyatt followed him to the back of the van, and they gathered the tools they’d need to work on the bathroom.
“You going to tell me what’s up?”
“There’s nothing to tell. I’m still not fully awake is all.”
“Right.”
The front door opened before he and his brother reached the front steps. “Good morning,” Haley said, pushing the storm door wide to let them in.
She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and she wore an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Even without makeup she was cute . . . in an altogether too wholesome way. “Ms. Cooper, this is my brother, Wyatt. He’ll be doing the electrical wiring and helping with the heavy stuff. Wyatt, this is Ms. Cooper.”
“Please stop calling me Ms. Cooper.” Her brown eyes flashed annoyance. “I’m pleased to meet you, Wyatt. I’m Haley.” She reached out to shake Wyatt’s hand.
Wyatt touched her hand briefly and mumbled a greeting. Sam set the drop cloths and tools on the living room floor. “We’re going to cover a path so we don’t mess up your floors as we’re hauling stuff out to the dumpster.”
“OK. Good.” Haley gestured toward the kitchen. “I made coffee. Would either of you like a cup?”
Wyatt, who had gone into silent shy mode, nodded and followed Haley to the kitchen. Shrugging out of his jacket on the way, Wyatt draped it over a dining room chair. He kept the hood of his sweatshirt up as usual. Sam followed, leaving his coat on the chair next to his brother’s.
Did he want coffee? Seeing how his pulse was still elevated, caffeine would probably be a bad idea. “Water would be good,” he told her as she took a couple of mugs from the still-intact cabinet. “I’ve already had enough coffee this morning.”
“I have bottled water in the fridge,” she said. “Help yourself.”
Wyatt accepted a cup of coffee and scanned the kitchen. Sam grinned at his brother. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Wyatt murmured, his gaze darting to Haley. “You did this?”
A few red blotches appeared on her neck. “Yes. I did this. Why? Did I do something wrong?”
“Other than the load-bearing wall, no. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just that there are a bunch of random starts and stops,” Sam said, opening the refrigerator. He reached for a bottled water. “Usually, when folks do demolition, they finish one area before moving on to the next. I figure you went at it the way you did because you lacked the know-how and the confidence to continue. You’d start, doubt yourself and stop. Am I right?”
She surveyed the wall, and her forehead creased. “Probably,” she conceded.
“I’m curious.” Sam unscrewed the cap on the water and took a fortifying gulp. “Why didn’t you buy a nice little condo or a townhouse, something new that didn’t need fixing up? Your life would’ve been a lot simpler. Houses are a lot of work for one person to maintain on their own.”
A few more red blotches appeared on her neck. “Can we just get started?” she snapped.
“Sure.” Her tone only piqued his curiosity more. Haley marched out of the kitchen, leaving him and his brother to follow in her wake.
Wyatt flashed him a look. “Way to go, idiot.”
“What?”
“You asked me what I thought about this mess, right?” Wyatt said, his voice barely above a whisper. He gestured toward the scattering of holes in the plaster walls, and the segment of kitchen counter that had been pulled from the wall. “Looks to me like she was one pissed-off female when she did this. You’re so dense.”
“Well, at least I can talk to her.”
Wyatt punched him in the shoulder as he passed. “It might be better for all concerned if you didn’t.”
“Ouch.” What had he done to deserve such persecution? It’s not like he’d insulted Haley. He’d just voiced an opinion and asked a question. Sam followed his brother to the living room, and they draped the floors with drop cloths, forming a path to the bathroom.
Haley waited for them next to her bathroom door, a crowbar in hand. “I turned off the water from the downstairs valve into the house,” she informed them, all business. “I have a half bathroom in the basement. If you could leave the tub in here functional, I’ll be OK for a few weeks.”
“Will do.” Sam slid by her and into the small space. He caught a whiff of her clean scent, sweet, like fresh laundry and floral shampoo. The bathroom was too small for three people. He turned to survey the walls. “It’s tight in here. It’s going to be hard to work safely with three of us wielding sledgehammers and crowbars. I promise to let you tear out whatever you want in the kitchen, but would you mind standing outside of the bathroom? I can explain what we’re doing each step of the way.”
“Oh,” she said with a sigh. “I see what you mean.”
He nearly jumped at the sound of her voice so close. Turning around, he found her right behind him. Now they faced each other. Too close. Way too close. Her scent wafted over him, and every little breath she took, every minute movement she made affected him like he’d stuck his finger into a live electrical outlet. His mouth went dry while his heart beat double time. It took Herculean effort to keep from staring at the two inches separating her breasts from his chest, and he was already against the wall with no room to back up. He gripped her upper arms and physically moved her out of his personal space and into the hall.
“Hey,” she snapped. “We agreed. No touching.”
“Hey,” he snapped right back. “You were in my way. Watch and learn, but stay out of the bathroom. I don’t want to be sued because you get hit by something.”
Wyatt made a muffled snorting noise, and Sam scowled at him. Haley did one of those female tongue-sucking sounds of annoyance and crossed her arms in front of her, drawing attention to her chest again.
Dammit. Was she taunting him on purpose? “After we take out the vanity, sink and toilet, we’ll tear out the walls. There have been a lot of improvements over the years in the materials used in bathrooms. We’ll replace the old stuff with more appropriate mold-resistant materials.” He kept his eyes trained on the ugly pink and black plastic tiles covering the walls. “After we put in the plumbing for the shower, we’ll install the new ceramic tile surround.”
“Sounds good.” She leaned against the door frame, her arms still crossed.
Sam ground his molars together. He and Wyatt had worked together for years—ever since they were old enough to follow their dad and grandfather around on jobs. Once they settled into the routine, he’d be fine, because he’d be concentrating on what he was doing.
Wyatt disassembled and capped the plumbing, and Sam unbolted the toilet from the floor. Then, he and Wyatt hauled the stuff out of the small space and headed for the dumpster before starting on the walls.
Haley held the door for them as they carried load after load out of the house. By noon, her bathroom was gutted and stripped to the framing, with only the tub remaining intact.
He and Wyatt cleaned up as best they could, using Haley’s Shop-Vac for the bits of particle board and dust left behind. Haley surveyed what had once been her bathroom, as he used a cloth to wipe the dust out of her tub. “You sure you don’t want us to put in a new toilet today?” he asked. “We can pick one up at Home Depot. They aren’t that expensive.”
“I have the bathroom downstairs.” She moved out of his way. “The basement is kind of semi-finished. We had planned to remodel that as well, only not until after the main floor was done.”
“We?” His brow rose. Haley’s lips thinned into a straight line. The inadvertent slip of the tongue only confirmed his suspicion. She’d gone through a bad breakup. Yep. Emotional involvement only leads to emotional stress. Who needs it? Still, he wanted to know what had happened.
“Sam,” Wyatt called from the living room. “I have to get going. Let’s get the tools and drop cloths to the van.”
“OK,” he called back. “We have the measurements. I’ll get your materials ordered on Monday, and we’ll put a rush on them, so you don’t have to go too long without a bathroom.”
She nodded, still tight-lipped, and he caught a glimpse of sadness in her eyes. That got to him. “Well,” he muttered, gathering up his sledgehammer, stud finder and crowbar. “We’ll be back on Wednesday night to start on the kitchen tear-out.”
“Right.” Haley followed him to the front door. “And I get to do some of the work this time.”
He grinned at the determination in her voice. He liked that about her. “You bet.”
“See you on Wednesday,” she said.
Wyatt’s head bobbed, and he mumbled his good-bye. “See you then,” Sam said as he walked out into the brisk afternoon, more than a little satisfied that he’d managed to discover a small piece of the Haley Cooper puzzle.
He and his brother stowed their stuff in the back of the van and climbed in. Sam started the beast and shivered. “So, what do you think?” he asked, glancing askance at Wyatt.
“She’s pretty. Nice.” Wyatt shrugged. “Somebody broke her heart, that’s for sure. Maybe she was married, and went through a nasty divorce. Maybe she caught her husband cheating on her.”
“Could be.” Sam fiddled with the temperature controls while the van warmed up. “Or maybe she lost someone in an accident.” He remembered the sadness he’d glimpsed in her eyes, and his heart turned over. He knew the feeling, the utter devastation left in the wake of losing a loved one. “I didn’t see any pictures anywhere of her with a man though. I’m thinking a bad breakup.”
“Of course, none of it is our business,” Wyatt said, sending him another pointed look. “She’s a client. Period.”
“Right.” Sam drove the van away from the curb. His curiosity had not been satisfied—not by a long shot. He wanted to know more about Haley, but that wouldn’t happen with his brother hovering close, ready to punch him in the shoulder whenever he crossed that personal boundary with her. “Let’s meet at her house on Wednesday night. That way, you don’t have to drive all the way to my place first.”
“Works for me. Six thirty, right?”
“Right.” He planned to get there early, give himself time to ask a question or two. Twenty minutes ought to suffice. Once his curiosity was satisfied, he’d be able to figure out the whole setup thing. Then he’d stop obsessing about Haley and move on with his life. “I’ll place her order this afternoon. That way, the vendors will get the purchase order first thing Monday morning. I’d like to get this job done as quickly as possible.”
“Can’t blame you.” Wyatt grunted. “What with Grandpa Joe getting on your case about your . . . er . . . extracurricular activities and all, I’m sure Haley Cooper must seem like forbidden fruit.”
That bit. He had as much control as the next guy when it came to women. “Again. It was not me who started things with anyone. I’m never going to live that radio show down, am I? It’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“Probably, but Sam . . . it’s not the radio thing that needs living down. It’s what you were up to.” Wyatt laughed. “And living that down isn’t going to stop me from busting your chops every chance I get.”
“Thanks, Wyatt. I know who not to go to when I need a sympathetic ear.” Was his younger brother on to something with the forbidden fruit thing? Was he attracted to Haley simply because he couldn’t have her? He’d give that some thought. In the meantime, he’d find out more about the we part of her life. He counted the days until he’d see her again. Five days was a long time to wait. Good thing he had plenty to do ’til then.