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“Taylor, he’s used to being in charge, comes from the Marine days.” He removed his hat, rubbing his crazy hair back before putting it back on to speak. He acted like he was telling me some big secret, and I bit my bottom lip, thinking maybe I was wrong.
“That doesn’t give him the right to come riding in on a white horse like he owns the place.”
Damien mumbled something about overprotective boyfriends, which I ignored while I grabbed the hose of the power washer unsuccessfully slinging it over my arm hauling it toward the wall of green moss growing up the side of my house, currently ruining the historic wood siding. It was beautiful and gave the house a certain je ne sais quoi, but the moss had to go and I didn’t have time on my schedule to wait for Hunter every single time I was about to tackle a project. He was just going to have to deal with doing things my way. This time I was the one in charge. Hadn’t I hired him at his begrudging behest? He acted like I knew nothing, and I wanted to prove him wrong, that I wasn’t the little girl he needed to handle with kid gloves.
“Taylor, have you ever used one of these before?”
Shrugging off his concern, Damien helped me uncoil the hose, handed me a pair of work gloves for my hands, and reluctantly connected it to the outdoor water faucet. I walked up to the wall covered in grunge, determined to remove the offending greenery. I shrugged my shoulders. I mean, how hard could it possibly be?
“Turn it on, Damien.” I picked up the gun with renewed spirit and pointed it up at the wall closer to the second story, hoping to clear this off the to-do list and get back to matching paint chips and picking out new plumbing fixtures.
“Don’t you think we should close that window into the living room?”
Clicking the trigger, I turned the gun on to get the sprayer action going, ignoring Damien. Why did all the Hart men have to be so infuriating? They were a bunch sewing circle busybodies if I met any. I looked back and with a grunt I faced forward, ready to give aim and punish the wall since I couldn’t do anything to Hunter. Anger made me press the trigger button and let the water fly recklessly. A thick stream jetted out of the hose and I staggered back.
“Whoa!” I completely underestimated the force at which water streamed out of the power washer, hearing Damien yell somewhere from behind me. The kickback from the gun knocked the wind right out of me and I landed hard on my ass, rolling to my back, the hose now snaking in the air like a cobra set on attack.
“Damn it, Taylor Jane!” Hunter’s voice echoed from somewhere above me, but I’d already ducked my head down, avoiding the bulk of the out of control spray.
Damien shouted as water arced wildly in the gravel driveway, trying to turn the main water valve off. The hose slowed to a stop, dropping in the air and bouncing on the ground near my spot.
By the time it was all over and done with I was soaked, Damien was soaked, and Hunter peered out of the window, his shirt just as soaking wet. My ass hurt and my cheeks flared bright red in embarrassment.
“Sorry?” Meekly there was nothing else to say and Hunter shook his head, ducking back inside. I didn’t want to hear it, whatever it was he wanted to say, hugging my knees before I looked over at Damien.
“Not that I want to point out the obvious here…” Damien chuckled and brushed water off his shirt, offering me a hand to pick me up.
“Then don’t.” Red faced, I pushed the gun into his folded arms, forcing him to take it from me as I stalked back inside, ready to apologize to Hunter. If I wasn’t careful I’d have a foreman quitting this project of mine and that was no good at all.
“Hunter?” I called up the staircase, which looked better than ever sanded down to the original wood. The stairs still had a cardboard runner to protect the surface but the rest looked smooth.
“Go home, Taylor Jane.”
I didn’t see him around the upper landing, but I sure as heck heard him. He was grumbling and not that I could b
lame him, but still. It was an accident.
“Seriously? No.” My foot stomped the first riser of the staircase and I’d run up there if he continued to act like an ass. I didn’t know what I’d do when I got up there because jumping on him seemed childish and we had outgrown those behaviors long ago, even if the itch got to me since we’d started this project.
Hunter poked his head out from around the corner, looking over me, but not stepping into view. “Go home and get dry clothes on before you catch a cold or something.”
“A cold?” Unbelievable, the ass thought he could send me home from my own project?
“Yes,” he yelled back.
“It’s spring.” Neither of us was being reasonable.
“What are you twelve? I said go home.” This time he wouldn’t come around the corner to yell at me and my anger kept me rooted to that first step stubbornly.
“Arrrgh. Fine!” I yelled.
“Fine.” He shouted back.
“Great!” That was the best comeback I had.
“Good. I’m glad.” Hunter made me madder with each passing moment and comment.
“Jerk!” I was being mean but in the moment I wasn’t sorry.
