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I splutter defensively, “It was only his leather jacket I was thinking about.”
“Sure, you were.” She smiles knowingly.
“I have only known him in the blink of an eye. There is nothing to think on him about.”Liar-liar. Pants on fire.
“I’ll be back soon with the lemonade and your phone. Just give me a few minutes to set up the baby security monitor so that I can keep an eye on CJ out here. Chance isn’t taking any chances. Pun intended.”
I wave her off. “You go be a good parent.”
With more work still to be done this afternoon, I need to feed my family and the landscaping crew. My plans got messed up on Friday, so I didn’t get to pick up my food supply orders for the weekend. Saturday, I treated everybody to dinner in town, it was the least I could do after sitting on my arse all day, but today I am determined to be a good host. Once I’ve taken a break, I’ll take a ride into town.
Ten minutes pass before Aubrey is back. “Ophelia, here’s your homemade lemonade.” She’s brought out a tray with empty plastic cups and a jug of lemonade, placing the tray next to me on the picnic blanket before pouring me a cup. “Now, don’t mind me, but I need to signal my husband to take his shirt off.” I shake my head in amusement, taking a long drink of the refreshing homebrew. “Give me your hat; I need to flag his sexy ass down so I can get down to doing my charades.”
I watch on as Aubrey flaps my straw hat in the air. Once she has her husband’s attention, she holds one finger up, signaling him to wait a moment.
Chance leans on his shovel, resting both arms across the top, his cap on backward, grinning at his wife, looking like he’s posing for a photo shoot.
He could sell that image on a poster.
I watch the hilarious shenanigans begin, giggling quietly to myself as she pretends to strip, twirling an imaginary shirt around her finger in the air while swinging her petite, curvy body. She slaps her butt, then touches it with one finger and blows on the end of it like it is hot. Then she waves her hands to tell Chance to get on with it.
She’s not at all embarrassed about what she’s doing. Chance’s landscaping team is undoubtedly used to the husband-and-wife shenanigans because they carry on working hard, not batting an eyelid their boss’s way.
Chance blows her a kiss before stabbing his shovel into the earth. He kicks an eyebrow up, then strips his black T-shirt off (like the guys do on television commercials) without the slow-motion effect to reveal an impressive, lean body with the right amount of abs. The ex-soccer player still has the magic V line, which helps make him an excellent return-on-investment on posters and other items he sells online every month. The man is a walking merchandise model.
Aubrey isn’t happy with just a striptease. She cups her hands around her mouth and whisper-shouts, “Baby, I need to see that ass..”
Chance turns around, throws his T-shirt over his left shoulder, and starts twerking.
“Yep, that ass right there is the money maker.” Aubrey claps her hands together, delighted with her husband’s antics, then leans down, lifting the tray carefully off the blanket. “I’ll walk this around and see who wants a cup of lemonade.”
“Do you need me to have CJ over for a sleepover again tonight?” I joke, but I am seriously getting attached to the little guy. He is a dream child.
“You know, Ophelia, we might one day make a baby mama out of you yet.” Then she hurries over to Jasmine.
I casually respond with, “Not like—”
“Hey, Aussie!” a familiar deep voice calls out, distracting me from dwelling on Aubrey’s comment.
Jensen?The top half of my body twists a one-eighty. “Hey, Peterson, what are you doing here?” I get to my feet.
Jensen’s head swivels back and forth, taking in the new changes to the landscaping. It allows me time to adjust my oversized, black, polygon, Victoria Beckham-style, aka Posh Spice-style sunglasses, to hide my bruising and stitches. I’ve learned Jensen is the protective type, like somebody else I have just met.
When I first looked for a tradesman to hire for my carpentry work, I headed into the local hotel and bar and plopped myself down on a barstool. I figured tradesman drink, so I might be able to get wind of a good one while I was sitting there enjoying a beer.
I talked with the bartender named Carla, introducing myself as Ophelia. She said she would ask around and let me know if any carpenters were interested in doing a lengthy job.
When I left my Fainting Goat Ranch business card on the counter, the tattooed modern-day ‘Jessica Rabbit’ called out as I was about to walk through the open bar door after reading my surname on the card, “Hey Aussie, you related to a Chance Bateman?”
I announced I was, which got me a curious wistful smile. Carla asked how my cousin was doing with the woman he had been chasing. I said he married Aubrey, and they have a one-year-old boy. She let out a heavy sigh and told me she was glad he had found his happiness. I must ask Chance what that was all about, one day.
The next day I received a call from Hank, from Peterson & Son Carpentry, and later that day, I swung my front door open to find a tall, brown-skinned guy in his thirtysomethings with his back to me, talking on his phone. I knew he was Jensen because the back of his navy work shirt had the Peterson & Son Carpentry logo across his well-built, broad, muscular back.
When he ended his call and turned around, I could tell he was a confident person the way his plump lips curved, smiling at me like he knew he got blessed with attractive packaging.
What came to mind then and there was this man knewwhohe was, and he was not afraid to be himself and use his looks and charm. With his pretty, blue eyes (think Michael Ely) and his high imperfect afro, he held his hand out, introducing himself as Jensen Peterson while assessing me from top to bottom.
Hank’s son looked around, listened patiently to the visions I had for the tiny houses and the Fainting Goat Ranch, gave me a rough estimate on what he could do on the spot, and would follow up with a detailed quote.
