Page 4 of If You Like It, I Love It

I wait until we’re standing next to my truck on her driveway before I weigh in on how she’s not caring for that head wound.

“It’s fine. I have liquid bandage on it. See?” She pushes her hair out of the way and tilts her face to give me a better view of the clear coating on her skin. “That’s all they would’ve done at the ER, but they would’ve charged half my renovation budget to do it.”

“You cleaned it well before you covered it, right?”

“Did you have to leave medical school unexpectedly? Is that why you became a contractor?”

I wish I didn’t find her sarcasm so damn stimulating. Intellectually. Mostly.

“I never had any desire to go to medical school. I just don’t like anyone being injured on my jobsite.”

“I’m not going to sue you because I got a cut on my forehead. Especially not one that I caused.” She laughs as if a frivolous lawsuit is the only possible reason I could be concerned about her wellbeing.

“My attorney will be so relieved to hear that.” I make sure my response carries enough of my own sarcasm that she can’t miss it, but I deliver it with a smile to be sure she knows I’m not being an asshole about it.

Her return smile is tentative, as if she’s also trying not to come across in a way she doesn’t intend.

Tension frizzles the air like there’s a storm rolling in, but there’s not a cloud in the sky. No lightning in the distance, not even a sprinkle of rain, but the moment still feels storm-edge tense.

Fraught moments with a client aren’t unusual. It’s rare to get through a project without any. Remodels can get stressful. Misinterpretations happen. Delays happen. But whatever is happening here couldn’t be cured by referring to the contract or explaining a materials issue.

I found Joni attractive from the moment we met, but the more I’m around her, the deeper the attraction becomes. She’s definitely not trying to make herself more attractive. If anything, she seems like she couldn’t care less what I think about her, which only makes me think about her a whole lot more than I should.

This woman takes up more space in my head than her kitchen renovation does—and that’s a problem. But it’s my problem, not hers.

3

Joni

I walk into Grin’s Pub like I’ve done a thousand times before, but I’m anxious today. My inner control freak would rather be at my house, overseeing the job I’m paying a qualified general contractor to handle.

Do I have any construction skills or knowledge? No.

Is the project at a point where anything could go wrong with the design? Not yet.

But it took me so long to get to a place where I could make any changes to the house . . . to make it mine alone. To make choices that should’ve been joint decisions.

I don’t mean to be a difficult client, but I’m struggling with things I didn’t expect to bother me. Like demolishing the outdated kitchen that I’ve been looking forward to renovating since the day we moved in. It’s long past time for these changes, and I know I’ll love it when it’s done, but my gut knots every time I see the necessary devastation.

Poor Enzo. He probably regrets ever bidding the job.

Sabrina comes out of the kitchen and lifts her hand in as much of a wave as she can create while holding a basket of fries. She has a basket of onion rings in her other hand, and she’s walking toward the table where Glynnis is waiting on us.

Mav hates when Sabrina randomly uses the kitchen in his bar. The kitchen is only open on weekends and only in the evenings, but as often as our schedules allow, she, Glynnis, and I claim a corner table in the middle of the afternoon and camp out with deep-fried snacks for a few hours.

We all agree these sessions are great for our mental health. Sabrina’s husband, Mav, doesn’t enjoy the same health benefits. She insists he doesn’t actually mind; he just needs to grumble about it.

The bar isn’t usually crowded on a Wednesday afternoon, but more than once, a customer has been confused when told the kitchen isn’t open while clearly seeing that we have food on our table.

Between Glynnis’s obligations to her lip spas, including her newest location right here in Grinberry Falls, and Sabrina’s job as a location scout for the film industry, we have to coordinate our schedules for weeks ahead of time to nail down our dates.

Glynnis and I always offer to clean the fryer, but Mav just shakes his head, sighs, and says, “I’ve got it.” And then he smiles and tells us to let him know if we need anything else.

He’s been a walking conundrum as long as I’ve known him, but I think Sabrina decoded him the moment they met. Some people are just meant for each other.

“So,” Glynnis says, dragging a fry through ketchup before popping it between her crimson lips. “How’s my favorite contractor working out for you?”

“Great. They’re done with demo. My kitchen is a blank slate, which is more unsettling than I was prepared for. I’m already questioning the new layout I agreed to and the cabinet style. Enzo’s job on the project is secure. I just have to keep from exasperating him to the point he quits on me.”