My Way to You Page 15

She lifted a hand. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just putting it out there. I’m not a fan. He might be doing his job, but being a used car salesman and strong-arming me wasn’t necessary.”

Parker was pretty sure the look on Colin’s face said respect. “I heard it took a week for the contracts to come back in.”

“Yup. Made sure there were a few things in writing ensuring this property was going to look the same, if not better, when your team is done. If someone hits the gate, or the driveway gets torn up, I want them replaced. And my family needs to be able to get in and out . . . always,” she told him.

Colin removed his sunglasses and met her eyes. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay, Parker. You have my word.”

“Thank you.”

He pushed away from the truck and opened the door. “You’re going to like my crew. Great group of guys who go above and beyond.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“And not one of them wears a suit.”

Those dimples were starting to put a flutter in her belly. “Don’t trust men in suits.”

“Good thing I only wear them on rare occasions.”

The image of him in a suit had her biting her lip. Maybe she could trust him in a tie. Parker closed her eyes, briefly, tried to get the thought to go away. There was no time in her life for butterflies and dimples.

He reached in and turned over the engine. “Next time you see me, I’ll be here with my on-site supervisors before we bring in the equipment. You’ll meet them, and they you.”

Her head was swimming and she felt heat prickle under her skin. “Okay.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and the undercurrent snapped.

Parker paused and looked up, fairly certain he could see her blood churning for all the wrong reasons. She had no business feeling this way. For all she knew he was married. Just because he didn’t wear a ring didn’t mean he didn’t have a Mrs. somewhere.

“You have my number. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

He squeezed her shoulder before he let her go.

Yeah . . . he saw it all right. “I’m holding you to your word,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and firm.

“Good. Have a nice evening, Parker.”

 

Twice a month, typically on a Sunday, Colin joined his parents and siblings for a family dinner. His mother insisted. Actually, insisted might be too delicate a word.

Demanded.

Right out of high school, Colin had landed a job with the county as a laborer. His parents had made sure he and his brother and sister had all they needed growing up, but not all they wanted. Great parenting, as he saw it. He liked the money, took night classes at the local community college, but decided quickly that studying subjects that didn’t interest him was never going to get him where he wanted to be in life. He liked working with his hands. Liked organizing and motivating people. Sitting behind a desk would result in a potbelly and a weekend alcohol problem in ten years. Or so he thought.

By the time he was twenty-three, he was making good money and socking it away. About the time he moved out of his parents’ home, his younger brother, Matt, was putting out fires with a shovel as a hotshot up in Northern California. Grace was in her senior year of high school, and their mom, Nora, was feeling the empty nest.

Hence the demand to see her children all in the same house twice a month. The date rotated around Matt’s schedule since he worked twenty-four-hour shifts at the firehouse.

His dad, Emmitt, sat in his lazy chair in the family room with a baseball game plastered on the big screen. Matt argued a call the umpire made while their father told him how wrong he was.

“Hand me the cheese,” Grace told her mother from across the island in the center of the open kitchen.

“Do they always argue over the game?” Robert, Grace’s latest boyfriend, asked Colin.

“It’s half the fun,” he explained.

“If you say so.” Robert didn’t look convinced.

“Do you watch sports?”

“Not even when I was in school.”

Before Colin could comment, Matt jumped up from his seat, clapping for a Dodgers base hit.

“We’re just about done here, Colin.” His mom caught his attention. “How much more time on the meat?”

He took the hint and headed back outside to the grill. “Not much longer.”

Grace followed behind him with a marinade they’d deemed a secret family recipe.

He opened the lid on the grill and sat his beer to the side. He slid a knife into the ribs . . . almost done.

“So what do you think of Robert?” Grace asked him under hushed tones.

He glanced over his shoulder, made sure the boyfriend wasn’t close by. The man was leaning against the island with his cell phone in his hand. More than once Colin had caught him playing some kind of video game or texting someone. “He seems fine.”

Grace handed him the barbeque sauce. “Fine? Ugh . . .”

Using a brush, he slathered on the marinade. “You’re not serious about him, are you?” Robert had been to two family dinners, this being the third over the course of five months.

“You don’t like him.” She scowled.

“I think you can do better,” he told her honestly. “He sits behind a desk, Gracie.” He was some kind of computer analyst or some such thing Colin couldn’t remember. Parker’s comment about men in suits popped into his brain.

“So do I.”

Colin shook his head. “You stand behind a desk, work with men twice your size, and push them around to your way of thinking. You’re a powerhouse and he’s a . . .” Once again he took in his baby sister’s boyfriend. “He’s not.” And for good measure he added, “He doesn’t even like sports.”

Grace sighed. “Dad doesn’t like him either.”

Their father was a retired sheriff and didn’t hide his views well.

“The fact you’re asking my opinion means there’s something not working for you.”

She reached for his beer and took a swig. “I thought it would be great. We work similar hours, he has his own home, never been married.”

“Uh-huh . . .” Colin retrieved his drink before his sister could finish it and continued to listen.

“But he’s boring. And the sex isn’t even all that good.”

Colin squeezed his eyes shut. “This is not what you tell your older brother about.”

“Well, it’s true.”

He finished his beer and turned a deaf ear. “Talk to your girlfriends about that. I don’t share my sex life with you.”

“You told me Rebecca was crazy in bed.”

The mention of his last somewhat girlfriend made him grin. “I said she was wild, I never mentioned the bedroom.”

Grace nudged his side with her shoulder. “It was implied.”

“Still. I won’t tell you about my sex life, you tell your friends about yours.”

“I work with men in the field and old women in the office. There aren’t many ears to choose from.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.” He moved the ribs around on the grill as if doing so was going to speed up the cooking. “Your personal problem.”

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