She let out a long, aggravated groan. “That’s what I thought too, but there’s a curveball.”
I blinked. “Care to fill me in?”
“Do you have kids, Wyatt?” She rested her head in her hand.
I shook my head, trying to keep up with her train of thought. Pretty sure we’d taken a sharp turn somewhere after I noticed the sex toys, and I was lost.
She nodded. “Well, kids have a way of embarrassing their parents, either with what they say or what they do. I can tell you from experience that they can come across mommy’s special toys and decide to parade them out into the living room when your in-laws are over, or mention them to strangers at the grocery store.”
“By special toys you mean…” I gestured towards the sex toys, and she nodded. I fought to push down the image that was building in my mind of her using one of the vibrating bullets, sliding it between her thighs and making her own legs quake. The full HD mental picture my brain supplied was extremely unhelpful.
“Okay, I can see that being a problem, but what’s this got to do with the furniture?”
Her eyes lit and she tapped the drawing. “I want to design a nightstand with built-in hidden storage for things you don’t want your kids to stumble across. I know how to build a nightstand. I used to work in construction. What I can’t figure out is the design. So, basically all I have is an idea, a nail gun, and enough sex toys to make a porn star blush.”
I wondered if she bought the toys to test the nightstand design or if she already had them. Again, not a helpful thought. “So you need me to help with the initial design, and build for your, uh, toy box?”
She laughed. It was a pretty sound that made my chest feel light. “Toy box, oh man, that is a great name for this. Do you mind if I use it?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m not just building this for myself; I want to make a business out of it.”
I blinked a few times, slotting all the information she’d given me into place. She mentioned a kid, and she mentioned in-laws, which implied there was a husband in the mix somewhere. Disappointment settled low in my gut, although when I glanced at her left hand there was no ring on her finger.
I should be focusing on the design, but her relationship status felt more important.
“So you’re married,” I blurted, my brain going from two steps behind to ten steps ahead.
She shook her head, “Divorced, single mom to one very strong-minded eighteen-year-old boy. I don’t have to worry about this with him anymore, but I bet lots of parents do.”
Single? Yes! Single mom? This new information tempered my excitement.
Not that I had anything against single moms; I was raised by one. That experience is exactly why I usually keep my distance. I watched my mom try over and over again to find love, onlyto find one more obligation. One more person to take care of. I did everything I could to help her out: took on odd jobs, cleaned the house, and told every stupid joke I could come up with to make her smile. I would never want to be one of those guys like my mom dated. Demanding attention from someone who was already overworked.
“Is that something you can do?” She asked, pulling me out of my own head. “I know Wild Timber is known for custom builds, but this is a bit different from a cabin or house.”
A nightstand wasn’t exactly the Taj Mahal, but adding an element like hidden storage could be tricky. I knew I was going to say yes to whatever she needed from me. I was invested in this strange little vision she had, and I wanted to help her.
My curiosity about her collection, and what she did with it had nothing to do with it. Okay, maybe a little to do with it.
“Leave it with me. I’ll go over your design ideas and we’ll come up with something.” So long as I could keep myself from being distracted by my sexy new client. And the most awkward kitchen table meeting of my professional career.
Chapter Three
Vera
“Hey, Ruth,” I said, grabbing an apron off the hook and tying it around my waist.
“Hey,” she called over her shoulder, grabbing two big plates from the window and hustling them over to table four. She was the owner of the Bent Rose, but you’d never know it seeing her work. She wasn’t one to hide out in the back office.
The lunch rush had clearly already started, and I grabbed a notepad and pencil to get going. I headed toward the first table, but slowed as I recognized the woman sitting there.
She was the manager of the Wild Timber Homes office.
Glancing at the other people at the table, my eyes landed on the back of one man’s head. His hair was dark and a little on the longer side, not scruffy, more tousled in a way that made me think he ran his hands through it a lot. I couldn’t say that running my hands through it hadn’t crossed my mind when he’d shown up at my house the day before. But I’d been too desperate for help with my project to get distracted by the good-looking carpenter.
“Good morning, folks. Can I bring anyone a coffee to start?”
