“No, I’m tired. I’m staying here.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said, blinking furiously to keep the tears from falling.
“Why don’t we get you into bed for nap?” Her father let Becky guide him from the chair to the bed while Claire watched helplessly.
When he was settled, she bent to kiss his cool cheek. His skin was rough from years of working outside, and the disease that was eating away at him made him seem decades older than his sixty years.
“Get some sleep. I’ll be back to see you in a couple of days.”
“That’s good,” he said, waving her away dismissively. “Tell your mother I need her.”
“We’ll take good care of him,” said Becky.
The fact that she knew that they would take care of him was the only thing that made it possible for Claire to walk out of the door. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, pushing back her tears. She almost made it to the front door when an office door opened and a man she didn’t recognize stepped out to intercept her in the hallway.
“A word, please, Ms. English,” he said, motioning to his office in a way that didn’t leave Claire any choice but to follow.
As she walked, she ran through the bills, both paid and unpaid, in her head. She hadn’t taken care of her father’s bill for this month, but it wasn’t even the fifteenth yet. All her cash was temporarily tied up in her jobs. They’d always given her time to work things out before. Maybe the greasy little man in the badly cut suit needed to know when she could pay the past due balance.
“At Oakwood Manor,” he said, closing the door and pointing to a chair. “We pride ourselves on the care we give your loved ones. But as I’m sure you know, that care comes at a cost.”
“Of course, Mr?”
“Easton,” said the smarmy little man she was starting to hate more by the minute.
“Mr. Easton, I know I’m a little behind this month, but I can assure you I will get caught up as soon as possible.” She hit him with her best smile, willing the problem to go away.
“I certainly hope so, Ms. English. I know in the past management was somewhat lax about collections. I can assure you; that is no longer the case. Oakwood Manor has become part of the Centuria Group. They do not tolerate overdue bills. If your father’s account isn’t made current by the end of this month, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to give his room to someone else. We do have a waiting list. Surely you understand?”
But she didn’t understand, she’d always been able to make arrangements before and she’d never gone past thirty days – forty-five at the most. Her father had been self-employed all his life. One of the benefits of being his own boss and paying extra taxes was that there was no social security to help pay the costs of his care. Claire took care of it all.
Where the hell was she going to get the money by the end of the month? Four grand for the asbestos, six for the kitchen and almost ten for Oakwood Manor. And she still had to make payroll.Jesus.The weight settled on her shoulders and she felt physically pushed down. Nothing could give. She’d just have to figure out a way to make it all happen.
“I understand,” she said eager to get out of the office as soon as possible. “I’ll take care of it.”
WHEN LUKEFINALLY left the construction trailer, he was surprised to find one of the C. E. English trucks parked in the gravel lot. Sparks had called his office to talk about some minor vandalism and theft. Typical jobsite stuff, but the crusty project manager didn’t take kindly to anyone messing with his site. It was probably nothing, but Luke agreed to meet him on Saturday to look over the reports.
But what was Claire doing on the job on Saturday? And what a happy coincidence.
The interruption in his office kept him from getting even close to having his fill of her. A situation he intended to rectify a quickly as possible before he lost any more focus to his hunger for Claire.
He made his way through the open framing, debating whether to try his luck on the condo floors or search for her in the public spaces they’d talked about the day before. Sparks said the framers had things tied up on five so he started toward the cavernous space that would become the ballroom. It didn’t take long for him to realize he’d made the correct choice.
A sweet if slightly off-key voice sang along enthusiastically to what he was pretty sure was Adele’sSomeone Like You. He moved closer to the sound, careful to stay quiet so he wouldn’t spook her. She was in the ballroom. A giant take out cup of coffee sat on the bare concrete floor next to a set of open plans he could see even at this distance were covered in red ink. Claire had her mass of auburn hair piled up under her hard hat, she wore white ear buds and she was singing.
He watched, mesmerized as she shimmied her hips and worked to pull wire from a spool, threading it through the metal studs. She was gorgeous. He’d never known a woman like her, so strong and competent. The research his personal assistant dug up on her revealed a woman who’d worked hard for everything she got. As far as he could tell she was responsible for not only her father’s business, she was responsible for him as well. He hadn’t had a chance to look into the land transfer announcements but assuming there wasn’t another C.E. English in the Triad she’d also spent the past eighteen months or so flipping residential houses and turning a nice profit on most of them. Not an easy thing to do in the current market.
She completely fascinated him. He wanted a chance to unlock all her secrets. Having a woman like Claire surrender to him, give herself over to the passion he’d felt in one kiss…God it made his cock hard thinking about it.
The movement of her hips changed to a slow sway, signaling what he was sure was a change in the music. She tugged on the wire and sang along withDon’t You Remember.
He heard the catch in her voice and saw her sag against the wall she was working on, holding on to the metal stud for support. He took a step closer, and it was enough to pull her out of her private world and let her realize he was there. She looked up at him with eyes glassy with unshed tears, turning quickly away when their gazes met.
Fuck, something was definitely wrong. He didn’t think Claire was a crier. The urge to protect her, to take away her pain hit him fierce and fast. He’d do anything in his power to smooth the hurt from her face. He reached her in two strides, taking her small skilled hands in his much larger ones.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning her to face him. He let go of her hand just long enough to tug the earbuds from her ears. “Tell me how to help.”
At first he thought she was going to shake him off or lie to him about being torn up over some non-existent boyfriend. She didn’t, and he stilled, afraid any movement on his part would shut her down, and she’d throw walls up in front of the honest pain he saw in her eyes. Her shoulders bent under an invisible weight and suddenly nothing mattered to him but taking the burden from her.
