Barefoot at Moonrise (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 2) Page 8

  “Look at them.”

  They were yellow and hideous, but he had to be sure. “If you’re sure…”

  “Yes.” She crossed her arms and came closer to the kitchen. “They’re going in the Dumpster in the driveway. Why?”

  “Back up, buttercup.” He slid the goggles over his eyes, threw the breaker bar on the counter, and grabbed the sledgehammer with one hand. He checked to make sure she was standing back, hoisted the hammer, and thwacked the crap out of the top cabinet, knocking down three-quarters of it in one swoop. “I’m a fan of the full bore and blast technique.”

  He turned to grin at her, only to find blue eyes locked on him. “I’m not.”

  “Why? You want these down and want to finish today, right? I can—”

  “Do it my way. Which is careful, clean, methodical, and thorough.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s how I do everything.”

  “You’re a control freak.”

  She lifted a brow. “A pregnant one, so don’t cross me.”

  He laughed at the warning. “Okay, if there’s a good reason to go all methodical, I will. But why spend two or three days doing what I can have done by tonight by going full bore?”

  “Full bore.” She turned to the coffeepot to hide the fact that she was smiling. “Who says that?”

  “Your new sub, who is free, by the way. And showed up when you needed him. And…” He took the cup she offered. “Is eternally grateful for the caffeine.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed in surrender. “Fine. Do it your way.”

  “Step back.”

  After gulping the coffee, he turned and lifted the sledgehammer, giving the cheap fiberboard one more solid hit. The impact jolted his arms with satisfaction. He finished it off with two more slams.

  “This is fun.” He looked over his shoulder to find her sitting in a dining room chair, staring at him with no expression, as if she wasn’t sure yet if she’d made the right decision letting him work.

  “I guess it depends on your perspective,” she said.

  Already feeling the first trickle of sweat, he reached over his head and ripped off his T-shirt, tossing it to the ground. “I’ll be done fast, I promise.”

  “Oh no, please, take your time,” she said. “Don’t rush the full bore.”

  He smiled and creamed the next cabinet with all he had. “So I heard you talked to Pookie,” he said.

  “Interesting woman.”

  He laughed before the next swing. “Oh, you know the type. A compulsive gambler with a heart of gold.”

  “That’s a type?”

  He smashed some wood, splintering it into fifty pieces. “It is in the firefighting world.” Before he took the next swing, he turned, a little surprised to see her blank expression had shifted to something more…interested. And not in Pookie. “You should have stuck around the station and met more of my team. Great men and women.”

  “I’m sure they are, but I wasn’t sure what to do,” she said, a rich honesty in the reply. “And that feeling continues right now, right here.”

  He threw a lazy smile over his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Will we?”

  “Soon as I get rid of this bank of cabinets.” He thwacked another cabinet and turned again to find her chin resting on her hand, her gaze locked on him, the sweetest hint of a smile. “You just enjoy the view.”

  “Believe me, I am.”

  And that made him want to work harder, which, he suspected, she knew.

  Chapter Seven

  Okay, this wasn’t her demo style, but two hours later, Beth forgot to be bothered by that. For one thing, all the uppers were out. For another, the stupid subcontractor never showed up or answered his cell phone. She’d have lost the entire day if Ken hadn’t come.

  Except for a few jokes and conversation about the project, they didn’t talk about anything too serious. He demolished and, good Lord, she watched. And watched. Muscles bunched and relaxed. Sweat trickled down a tanned, ripped back and over a simple mariner’s star tattoo on his shoulder blade. Worn and faded jeans hung low on his narrow hips, revealing even more muscles and a vague tan line that made her mouth go bone-dry.

  Full bore wasn’t so bad.

  “You have to be hungry,” she said when he stopped to power down another half gallon of water.

  He put the bottle down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his dark eyes intense on her. “Ravenous.”

  “Me, too,” she said. Starved and itchy and a little too sweaty for a woman who wasn’t doing anything physical except eating him up with her eyes. “I was going to have a salad, but…” She let her gaze fall over his torso, which was wet from sweat, with a dark line of hair that ran down to…there. “That wouldn’t be enough for you.”

  “We can go grab a bite. I could use a quick break.” He snagged a towel she’d given him and wiped his forehead. “Is the outside water on a different valve? I need to hose off.”

  “Actually, it’s turned off, too.”

  He glanced outside. “Pool looks good. Can I take a two-minute dip to cool off?”

  “Of course.”

  “Perfect.” He flicked the button to his jeans, taking a step toward the door.

  “Oh,” she said. “You mean…”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it.”

  And not like she didn’t want to see more.

  “You’re welcome to join me.” One brow lifted in invitation.

  “I…uh…” Good Lord, why couldn’t she string together a simple response? One that sounded like no.

  One side of his mouth lifted, and his eyes twinkled as if he knew exactly why she was suddenly tongue-tied. The look finally shook her from her stupor.

  “No, thanks,” she said with what felt like remarkable calm. “If you want to float around for a while, I’ll run out and get sandwiches.”

  “No, I want to go with you.” He unzipped his fly, and she sucked in a breath.

  “Oh. Um, okay. Then I…guess I’ll get…” Cooled off. “My purse.”

  She headed to the other side of the house, barely in her bedroom when she heard the splash as a six-foot-something man made of solid muscle cannonballed like an eighth-grade boy into the water.

  Picking up her purse, she looked in the mirror over the dresser, noticing bright eyes and pink cheeks. She looked healthy. Happy. Horny.

  She hadn’t felt any of those things in weeks—well, she’d been horny enough for those few weeks after the reunion and all she could think about was sex with Ken. Since then, she’d felt tired, scared, nervous, tired, excited, worried, and, well, tired. But now? She felt like she could strip down and dive into that pool and—

  “Hello? Is anyone home?”

  She blinked at her reflection. “Josie?” she whispered. Her stepmother was here…now?

  Glancing out the sliders from her room to the pool, she could see the water move and the shadow of a body deep under. She had time to get rid of Josie, but not much.

  Hustling down the hall, she reached the front door just as Josie stepped inside.

  “You should lock your door, Beth.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Beth blocked Josie’s entrance and possible view, adding a quick hug so she didn’t seem rude. “Hi, Josie.” She got a whiff of cloying designer perfume and a quick squeeze in return.

  But then Josie backed away as if too much contact might mess up her jet-black bob or pink age-appropriate tennis outfit. She was only a year younger than Beth’s dad, but she’d had plenty of work done and had exercised her whole life, so Josie oozed vitality and strength.

  And today, curiosity.

  “Oh, you started already.” She inched to the side, her attention on the bit of debris left from the last two cabinets that Ken had yet to carry out to the Dumpster. Shards of wood and tools littered the floor.

  “A little on the kitchen,” she said. “It’s kind of messy, Josie, so I’d steer clea
r.”

  “Oh, nonsense. Your father told me about the house, and I was driving by and decided it’s long past time that I see it. Can I look around?”

  No. “Actually, I’m super busy. How about another time?”

  “You can take a break.” She muscled a little closer, finally eyeing Beth. “You don’t look like you’ve been working. Are you finally using a subcontractor for this man’s work you love to do?”

  She bristled at her choice of words. And the fact that the man was naked in the pool. “Actually, I am, but…” She blocked her again. “I’m not ready for anyone to see the house yet.”

  Josie lifted both carefully dyed brows, but not too far, thanks to Botox. “Really? I thought you loved to show off the befores of your house flips.” She nudged Beth to the side. “Let me look at the kitchen. Surely you’re taking down this heinous wall.”

  “I am, but really, this isn’t a good time.” Plus, she’d been here for more than two months, and Josie had shown zero interest in the place. There had to be more—

  Beth heard a soft splash from the pool and covered it with a noisy cough. “Oh, it’s dusty in here, Josie. Not good for your allergies.” Beth put a firm hand on her stepmother’s shoulder. “We can do this another time.”

  She didn’t budge. “I’m worried about your father, Beth.”

  At the tone, Beth lightened her touch. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s so tired all the time. And short of breath.”

  Beth slowly dropped her hand, a tendril of worry wrapping around her chest. “What does the doctor say?”

  “Oh, you know…meds, rest, tests, and that he should retire.” Josie took her arm. “He listens to you. If you persuade him to give up work and the reins to Landon, he will.”

  And that was the real reason for this poorly timed visit.

  Another splash. Damn it. “Josie, I—”

  “I need your help, Beth,” she said. “For the man we both love. Convince him to turn his work over to Landon.”

  The problem was, she wasn’t completely convinced Landon was the best person for that job. Ever since she’d found out she was pregnant, Beth had been replaying her conversation with her father and…well, things were different now. Security for the future was as important as control and independence.

  The baby had changed everything.

  “I’m talking to Dad about all the options,” she said, purposely vague.

  But the vagueness wasn’t lost on her shrewd stepmother. Josie leaned in, her eyes narrowing. “You want the business.”

  “I…I don’t…I haven’t really—”

  Josie swept her hand, silencing Beth. “And of course he’ll hand it to you as a way to honor the great and glorious Ellie Endicott.”

  The subtle dig and the undercurrent of Josie’s insecurity over a woman long dead irked. “What does she have to do with this?”

  “Oh, Beth.” Josie sighed and crossed her arms like Beth was painfully naïve and she loathed having to explain something so obvious. “Everything, at some level, has to do with your mother.”

  “That’s not true,” Beth shot back. “Dad’s been married to you three times as long as he was married to her, and he’s been incredibly happy.”

  “But she permeates the—”

  “Hey, Beth? There are no towels out here.”

  Beth closed her eyes at the sound of Ken’s voice, right on the other side of the wall. She’d actually forgotten about him for a moment, and that had been a mistake.

  “And I’m buck naked, babe.”

  Now he calls her babe.

  Heat crawled up Beth’s chest and into her cheeks as Josie’s eyes bugged.

  “Stay back there, then,” Beth said over her shoulder. “Because I have company.”

  “Oh.” Ken gave an awkward laugh.

  “Hello, there,” Josie called, a little peeved at the interruption, but Beth could see the curiosity in her expression. “Who are you?”

  “Ken Cavanaugh.” He stuck his soaking-wet head out from behind the wall. “And who are—oh.”

  For a split second, the two of them stared at each other, then Josie’s jaw dropped. “What are you—”

  Beth inched her back. “I’ll get you a towel, Ken. Josie, you need to leave now.”

  She blinked at Beth. “What is he doing here? Besides the obvious.”

  “Demoing the kitchen.”

  “Naked?”

  “I took a quick swim to cool off,” he said, obviously hearing every word they said.

  Beth pivoted and headed toward the hall bathroom, embarrassment and fury pounding in her brain as she listened for another exchange between them. But it was dead silent out there.

  Snapping a bath towel off the rack, she marched back, passed Josie, and turned the corner into the kitchen where Ken was, indeed, buck naked and dripping water off his…oh wow. Not fair.

  “Sorry,” he whispered.

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  He barely got the towel around his waist when Josie joined them. “I guess I’m interrupting something.”

  “Demo,” they both said in perfect unison, making her look from one to the other.

  Josie’s eyes dropped and rose and dropped and rose again. Not that Beth didn’t understand, but—

  “You’ve grown up, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

  He nodded. “That happens to people.”

  “So you’re helping Beth with the house?” Josie asked, plenty of skepticism in the question.

  “Well, I didn’t want Beth to do the demo herself,” Ken said.

  Oh God. She flashed him a warning look that she was absolutely certain Josie saw.

  “She always does,” Josie said. “She’s such a modern woman, our Beth.”

  “But now she’s a—”

  “Desperate woman,” Beth interjected. “I’m desperate to get this renovation done as quickly as possible. You”—she pointed to Ken—“please get dressed and back to work. Please.”

  He must have heard the plea in her voice. He gave a nod, and stepped away, scooping his jeans from the floor. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Endicott.”

  She gave him one more slow once-over, and Beth took a steadying breath. “As you can see, Josie, I’m busy.”

  “Busy skinny-dipping with the help.”

  Which would be how this little incident would be reported to Dad. Whom Beth had told she’d never see Ken Cavanaugh again. For a moment, she considered asking Josie not to tell him, but they told each other everything. In fact, Beth was sure Josie knew about the conversation she’d had with her dad almost two months ago.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get back to work,” Beth said.

  “Work?” She gave a dry laugh.

  “Josie, please.”

  Josie walked toward the front door, throwing a glance at the hall where Ken had disappeared. “You’re playing with fire,” she warned under her breath.

  “Good thing he’s a firefighter, then,” Beth replied.

  Josie shot her a look and stepped outside, saying good-bye with a single nod.

  “That was awkward,” Ken said, emerging from the bathroom, dressed, after Josie had left.

  “Beyond.” She sighed and picked up her handbag from the table. “I think we’ve lost enough time. If you’d be nice enough to keep working, I’ll bring you a sandwich.”

  “Oookay.” He dragged the word out, coming closer. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No, I’m mad at…” Life. Josie. Her stomach for being so empty and her hormones for being so weird. “This situation.”

  “The situation is cool, Beth. I don’t mind doing the work. I don’t even mind you not letting me get lunch with you.” He reached out and brushed her cheek, the gesture meant to be conciliatory, but it inexplicably irked her, too. “You’re wound so tight today.”

  She stomped out Josie’s warning. Playing with fire. How? Ken Cavanaugh had no ulterior motive. He wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t pregnant, and she wouldn’t be pregnant
if she hadn’t fallen in bed with him and scoffed at the idea of a condom.

  She puffed out a breath. “I’m just on edge.”

  “You feel like you’re losing control.”

  How did he know that? Because she didn’t even know what was bothering her. “I’m really hungry, and my stepmother makes me a little crazy.”

  “What did she want, anyway?”

  “To manipulate me. That’s her superpower.”

  “Then don’t let her.” He came closer, smelling sweet now, with a hint of chlorine clinging to him. “Let’s make you feel better. You get us food, and by the time you come back, that whole ugly Formica counter will be gone.”

  “It is ugly.” She gave him a shaky smile. “You’re a good…tradesman.”

  “Except for when I’m naked.”

  Especially when he was naked. “Yeah. Don’t do that anymore. Talk about ugly.”

  He just laughed as she left, and she knew damn well he would do it again, every time he got the chance.

  And that would make her feel better.

  * * *

  A man could starve to death waiting for lunch.

  During the hour and a half he was left alone, Ken snagged an apple and some disgustingly thick Greek yogurt from the fridge, powered down another water, and got to work dismantling the countertops.

  It was a decent way to work off some frustrations.

  Basically, he’d come over to talk, and they’d danced around the elephant in the room while he demolished a kitchen, went skinny-dipping, and had a face-to-face with Josie Endicott, who might not be the enemy, but was married to the devil.

  The devil who was going to be Ken’s child’s grandfather. He stuck his hand in his hair and dragged it back. How was that going to work, anyway? How was any of this going to work?

  Yes, they had the rest of her pregnancy to figure this whole thing out, but he wanted a sense of where this was going and how it would get there. What would he tell his friends and family? It was obvious she hadn’t told hers, based on her look of sheer terror when she’d thought he was going to announce her pregnancy to her stepmother.

  He yanked at a section of counter, tearing it away from the wall with a noisy crunch, holding it in a firm grip to walk it out to the Dumpster. As he reached the door, Beth appeared and opened it for him.