“Did I do something wrong?” Hal glanced back at the house. “This is the Diamante place, isn’t it?”
Cash nodded. “It is. But I didn’t order a live-in plan.”
“But …?” He fished his phone out and tapped the screen a couple times. “I have the info right here.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute.” Cash held up both hands without looking at the screen. “But the man who put in the order doesn’t own the house. He thinks he will in a couple days, but he doesn’t have the right to be on my property or send someone else on it.”
“And if I have anything to say about it—he never will,” added James.
Hal shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Look, I have no desire to drop into whatever this is that’s going on here. I’ll tell Greg to call you—er, whoever to clear things up.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Cash gave him a wave as he made his way around the house.
“I’d like to meet Murdock behind the city building one night.” James popped his neck again.
Cash patted his arm. “You and me both. He’s too slippery, though. We’ll be lucky to press charges at the end of this. He’s covering his tracks. Shoot. I should have asked that guy for a copy of the work order.”
“Don’t worry about it. Getting the house will be revenge enough.”
Cash nodded. He might be a Christian, but he believed in karma, and Murdock had a whole bucketload of it coming his way. “I can’t worry about him right now. That’s what he wants—to distract us from getting done.”
“Right. Let’s get back to it.”
They made their way back inside, where they’d been working on the finish trim. He needed to stop daydreaming about his wife and focus on the house.
A task easier said than done.
Chapter 23
Maggie was in the master bath, slathering grout on the wall and then wiping the excess off with a rubber trowel. The fact that the grout was the same consistency as her royal icing helped her adapt to the job. The ache in her arms made her wish she was piping lace on a wedding cake instead of being here.
“Maggie?” Timmy called through the house. “You have a cute visitor.”
Maggie grinned to herself. She could just picture Jennifer’s blush at Tim’s words. He was big and tatted up but was super hot in a “rebel without a cause” way. Jennifer was his exact opposite—wholesome American newscaster.
A match made in heaven? Perhaps.
“I’m back here,” she called. She had a bucket of freshly mixed grout that she couldn’t let go to waste by drying out. It was work or sleep at this point of the project. If she stopped, she’d be counting Zs before she hit the floor.
She scooped up a trowel full of grout and was working it over the tile in a rainbow swipe when the door slammed open, startling her enough that she let it all plop onto the cardboard laid down to protect the floor.
“What in the world?!” she yelped.
Jennifer stood in the doorway, breathing like she’d run here from the station. Her hair was in place, but her skin was splotchy.
“Are you okay?” Maggie asked in shock as she took in her friend’s appearance.
“Nobody makes a fool out of me, Maggie Diamante.” Jennifer stepped closer, her heels clicking on the tile floor.
“What happened?” Maggie climbed out of the tub, ready to take up for her buddy.
“It wasyou.” Jennifer poked her in the chest. Maggie gasped. “All along, it was you who answered the ad. You who married the guy who advertised for a wife. You!”
Maggie stepped back, and Jennifer followed until she was up against the tub with nowhere to go.
Jennifer’s hands flew. “You let me go on and on about how I was going to figure this out, and all along it was you.”
Maggie felt like an old balloon that had been stretched too far. “How’d you find out?” she whispered.
