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“She knew you would suggest that.”
I shoot him a look. “Predictability is a sign of stability.”
“And boredom.” He brushes his hand over his buzz cut. “She wanted me to ask if you would be willing to do the work instead. She knows you’re busy—”
“No.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “But she said—”
“I don’t care what she said. Either she works with whomever you hire or she can scrap her idea altogether.” I type my password, only to screw it up twice from my agitation.
“Got it, boss.” He nods before exiting my office, leaving me to take out my irritation on my keyboard.
The ache in my chest intensifies with each passing minute, and I’m quickly distracted from my work by the thoughts bouncing around my head.
Who does Dahlia think she is, making requests like that despite knowing I don’t do carpentry anymore?
Are you annoyed at her asking for your help, or are you angry at yourself for being too afraid to follow through with her request?
I claimed to have processed my dad’s death and moved on from my past mistakes regarding it, yet when given an opportunity to prove it, I shy away, allowing fear and grief to control my choices.
You’re the one with all the power here.
And that’s what scares me most.
As much as I wanted to avoid the building site and the woman who is working there, a few things needed to beaddressed, including a formal introduction to the new team member Ryder hired.
It took him only one day to find me a carpenter fit for Dahlia’s task and only one minute for me to hate him, breaking a new company record.
I glare at the blond, brown-eyed giant from across the lawn, although he is too busy talking to Dahlia to notice me.
Strike one.
“Hey, boss.” Grass crunches beneath Ryder’s work boots.
“Hey.” I turn toward my project manager while keeping the carpenter on my radar. “Where did you find the new guy?”
“He comes highly recommended from someone I know out of Detroit.”
“Hm.”
Ryder shifts his weight. “According to my contact, he does the best woodwork on this side of the state.”
Strike two.
That fact, along with the way he smiles at Dahlia, has me scowling.
Strike three.“Get rid of him.”
Ryder freezes up beside me. “I’m sorry, sir. What?”
“I don’t like him.” God, it sounds as stupid to my own ears as it does aloud.
“Have you met him?”
“Seeing as he is too busy flirting with Dahlia to notice his employer, no.”
Ryder’s gaze swings from me to the carpenter. “I see.”
