“They must be proud,” he said, sipping his water as I watched intently.
“I guess so, but I don’t care either way, I love what I do.”
“Well if you love what you do it never feels like work,” he responded looking at me in my eyes. Everything that came from his mouth made my grin stretch to my cheekbones. Houston was absolutely right about that. Finally, someone that understood what I was trying to convey. This conversation was another confirmation. He didn’t say much or anything philosophical, but it was always worth giving attention because he didn’t say much but when he did you wanted to listen.
“Precisely Mr. McGraw, did you find the problem?”
“I did. Wanna take a look? Or is that too gross for you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. He also licked his lip like a jerk that thought he knew my life. Rolling my eyes, I would show him that he was absolutely wrong about me. I had dealt with this before. I was slightly offended and stunned because I thought differently of him.
“I’m a doctor, not a princess. Let me see,” I said, pushing past him. He caught up with me and I followed him into the breakroom and disaster littered the floor. Pipes, tools, and water were everywhere. My OCD was ready to kick in and clean up. He stopped me with a hand to my torso after catching my large eyes.
“I’ll clean all this up, princess,” he joked as I glared at him through slanted eyes. His joke was cute, but I wasn’t squeamish. I was an only child and had unfortunately grown up being forced to help my father around the house, “I had to take everything apart to find the issue.”
“It’s fine. I just have a slight case of OCD,” my hands went behind my back to keep from cleaning something or picking up the mess that was made. Malone sat in a chair, giggling at our interaction. I was getting flustered the more I looked at things strewn about. Messcreated confusion, and confusion created anxiety. I wanted no parts of it.
“A perfectionist,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’m not a perfectionist, but I do get a little antsy around mess. Physical and mental,” I admitted with my hand now on my head in distress. My life had been full of confusion. From my parents, to choosing a profession and to finding love. If I could keep things from disarray, I did it. I controlled my space.
“Noted,” he replied, stepping over towards the sink, “How old is this building?”
“Old, but I couldn’t part with it. My father owned it years ago. I just decided to renovate, but I didn’t renovate the pipes,” I sighed, dropping my shoulders. I was partially hard-headed. When I purchased the building, my father mentioned that the pipes needed repair. Today’s fiasco was all my fault for thinking I knew better and trying to save a penny. I had to learn the hard way and was paying for it heavily. That was nothing new.
“How was it growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth?” he asked, instantly irritating me again. Where did he get off judging me? He knew nothing about me and if this was his way of getting in, he was doing a shitty job. Being the daughter of Franklin LeJune afforded me a wonderful life, but I was not a stranger to hard work. He provided but I also made sure I knew how to hustle and make things happen for myself. His money hadn’t provided me with everything I needed. I went for it all alone.
“We had money and a good life, but I’m not a stranger to hard work. I never got pacified as a child. So I guess I can’t answer that adequately,” I responded with a hand to the hip. His stare became intense at my level of sass, but I didn’t weaken under his strong eyes.
Having money didn’t automatically make you better than the next person. It didn’t automatically make you happy or satisfied. The money my father had was never mine. His success was never my success. I found my place in the world and thrived in it. His money didn’t do anything but put me through college. Even then I still worked because that’s what strong independent women did.
“Good to know.”
“Are you judging me? Because I’m convinced you are judging me,” I asked still attempting to understand his angle. It was hard for me to read his puzzling ways and words. I surrounded myself with warm people. Being around him was cold and confusing. He was ‘noting’ things, but it still felt like he was critiquing me with each word I spoke. I didn’t like it because unlike him I wasn’t judging him when I could. His young son was in the mix of all his mess, but I didn’t speak on that
“Never, just trying to get to know the woman behind the business. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Is that a thing you do with everyone?” “Offend?” he laughed.
“No, get to know the woman behind the business?”
“Not really. Let’s just say I’m a little absorbed with meeting you on these circumstances. Forgive me killa,” he commented throwing his hands up in surrender. That made me drop the guard I accidentally tossed up due to his condescending tone. He had a sense of humor although still very shut off. His sense of humor was dehydrated like the Sahara Desert.
“So I should feel special?” I asked with flirty eyes. I felt a headache coming on conversing with him. It was like pulling teeth, but I was enjoying the banter even if I was dry as a powder house. He was getting to know me and with that, I was getting to know a little about him. Houston was observant, a loner, passionate and a good father. The greatest assets of a man to me.
“Feel how you want,” he responded withdrawing from me again. He was strange and the brat in me wanted to pout and storm off. Mr. Houston was going to be a trial, and I would be the jury convicting him and sending him to lovers’ prison until he got his act together. He wasn’t letting me in as easily as I assumed he would.
It was no time to brag, but if I had to I would admit it, I was beautiful. Deserving of the attention of any man I came in contact with. It wasn’t something I glorified because I didn’t desire the attention of multiple men. This was different for me because I liked him. Of course, it was only surface deep, but still, I found him offensively attractive. Attractive enough for me to consider asking him out for lunch. I didn’t do that often, if ever. It was evident he wasn’t falling easily into mywarm charm. If he wanted to keep it strictly business I could do that also.
“What are we looking at? How much is this going to cost me?” I rattled off getting straight to business. I wasn’t afraid to pursue a man, but I wasn’t going to be throwing myself out there and get met with a stiff arm each time I did it. Mama said it would happen, but I never believed it. A man not wanting my time and attention. It was both humbling and aggravating.
“The pipes in the building are shot to hell. I recommend them all being replaced, or you will run into this issue every time.”
“How long and how much?” Worry hit me because I couldn’t afford for my practice to be closed for too long. My clientele was a special breed. I prided myself on being there when they needed me or called. I wanted Houston to do the job, so I could use that time to figure him out some more, but I needed a realistic time frame. Without work, I didn’t know what I would do with my time.
I didn’t have a planner full of engagements, parties, and other tasks. My time was only balanced between work and watching Netflix. Work consumed me in a good way. Figuring out new ways to help and assist my kids took up most of the hours in the day. Sitting home doing nothing would drive me senseless. Plus, if he wasn’t willing to soak up some of my time I needed fast results.
“I need at least three days,” he responded, “Uninterrupted, full access.”
“Cost?”
