THREE
NOTHING WAS GOING THEWAY Claire needed it to – not one thing. And she was blaming Luke. He didn’t have anything to do with it but ever since she jumped into the cab for the forty-dollar ride back from Comme Ci to the job site, things had gone steadily downhill.
She’d gone up to the fourth floor to find her crew packing up their gear. The framers had stalled out on the fifth floor which put the rough-in inspection behind and meant her guys couldn’t go any farther. While she was trying to get her crew working again, on the main floor this time, Luke’s assistant had called to set up the meeting to go over the plans. After the way she’d run out of the restaurant, she couldn’t let herself back down from meeting him to talk about the job, but that didn’t excuse what happened.
What the hell had she been think letting him touch her like that? Touching him back. The kiss was bad enough, but she went to his office to look over the plans and instead let him get her off on the back of his sofa.
It was completely unprofessional. She should regret it. Part of her did – the sane part. An equally large part she wasn’t willing to admit to could still feel Luke’s mouth on her skin. His hands on her. In her. His hard thick length pressing against her, making promises of how good it would feel to have his cock inside her.
She couldn’t - wouldn’t – do it again. Shouldn’t.
She was so screwed. She needed things to start going right, and she couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings about Luke mess up her focus on his job – a job she needed to be moving much faster than it was. There was work to be done on the main floor but Claire needed to finish the rough-in of the condo units before she could get the next draw on the contract, and she needed the money. More than ever after this morning.
She was overextended on the property she was flipping, and now she’d found out that the house that looked like a simple renovation had asbestos, and the kitchen estimate came in at twice what she’d budgeted. The asbestos removal contractor was kind enough to meet her on a Saturday, but she had to figure out how to come up with four thousand dollars before she could move forward on the project and find an additional six thousand for cabinetry.
If nothing else went wrong she could still make money on the flip. The house was a beautiful old Victorian – or it would be when she was finished – in an up and coming neighborhood, but she had to keep all the balls in the air until she could get it finished and sold. She couldn’t afford any more problems.
She shoved her concerns aside as she pushed open the front door to Oakwood Manor. When her dad’s Alzheimers got too bad to keep him at home anymore, she’d toured dozens of places before she found the one that felt right. It cost a fortune, but her dad worked hard all his life to take care of her. It was her turn to take care of him.
“Hey Becky,” she said to the middle-aged woman at the nurses’ desk. “How is he?”
The woman gave her a sad smile. “Not too clear today. He’s been asking for your momma.”
The days when he didn’t remember her mother had passed were the ones that tore at Claire’s heart, in some ways even more than when he didn’t recognize her. Her parents had the kind of love other people dreamed about. They’d been high school sweethearts and had loved each other tirelessly until breast cancer took her mom at the age of forty-five. Her dad’s heart broke when they laid her mother to rest, and he never really came back. For years, he went through the motions, keeping it together to help Claire with the business and then his mind started to go and he was gone too.
Some days when she visited he was almost clear, and for a few hours she didn’t feel so alone. Other days, when she had to relive her mother’s passing with him all over again, it was almost worse than not having him at all. Almost.
“Let me know if you need anything, honey,” said Becky. “He’s eating his lunch in his room.”
“Thanks,” said Claire, sucking in a breath and steeling her nerves to face what waited for her on the other side of the door. “Hey Daddy.” She slipped into the dimly lit room and went to where her father sat by the window to place a kiss on his leathery cheek.
He looked up at her with unfocused faded green eyes, and she watched him struggle to find her face in the scraps of his memory.
“Hey pumpkin.” He reached up to squeeze her hand, and tears pricked her eyes.
“Hey daddy.” She sat on the corner of his bed closest to his chair, keeping her hand in his. “Is the meatloaf good?’ She nodded to the uneaten food on his tray.
“Not as good as your mother’s,” he said with a disgusted noise. “Do you know when she’s coming back? I need her.”
This is where she was supposed to break her father’s heart again. In the beginning the doctors told her to tell him the truth, but she wasn’t sure she believed them anymore. Tomorrow, he’d wake up, and if his mind was clear, he’d realize the love of his life was gone. What could it possibly serve to tell him today? It didn’t help him to remember or to be more present. It simply destroyed him.
She clenched her fists in impotent rage at the fucking disease that had stolen the man that meant the world to her. With everything else that was going on, it was more than she could handle.
“Soon Daddy. You’ll see Momma soon,” she said, praying she was telling him the truth and hating herself for it. “You should see the work we’re doing on the Ashton Court building. It’s huge. Our biggest project so far – three stories of conference space, meeting rooms and restaurants and another twenty floors of condos.”
He absently patted her hand. “That’s good, pumpkin. Could you please send your momma in when you go? I need her.”
“I know, Daddy,” she said past the tears clogging her throat.
“Are you finished, Mr. English?” chirped Becky’s voice from the doorway. “Maybe you and your daughter would like to take a stroll around the grounds.”
“Would you, Daddy?” asked Claire, standing and handing his tray to her. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“No,” he said, his brow creased with a determination she knew better than to push. “I’m going to wait here for your momma.”
“Are you sure? I don’t think she can come today and the fresh air would do you good. Come on; go for a walk with me.”
Claire tugged on his shoulder, trying to get him to rise, shocked when his fist came down on the table. Her father was the kindest most patient man on the planet. He’d never raised a hand to her, not even for a spanking as a child. He didn’t have a violent bone in his body.
