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  That revealing chuckle hit him square in the chest. Dale had thought she was cute from the moment he first saw her, but knowing he made her nervous upped the cuteness factor to ridiculous levels.

  It was even more of a reason to back away from this job. Not only was he not licensed to take on a construction project of this scale, but if he wanted to explore all the other possible ways he could make Nyree smile he sure as hell couldn’t work for her.

  But damn if his mind wasn’t fixated on figuring out how he could make this space work as a salon. Vanessa knew exactly what she was doing when she brought him here.

  Dale walked over to the room on the opposite end of the vestibule that took up the center of the home’s first level. He went back and forth between the two spaces several times, mentally arranging the layout.

  Nyree slinked in next to him. “So, what are you thinking?”

  “This room is adjacent to the downstairs bathroom,” Dale said, pointing to the larger room that Nyree said would house the hair salon. “If you install the sinks on this side, you can easily tie them into the existing plumbing.”

  “That’s exactly what my brother suggested.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and Dale lost his train of thought. With that move, she’d surged right past cute and tumbled headfirst into the sexy-as-hell category.

  “I get what you’re saying,” she said, knocking him out of his temporary daze. “The only problem is that we really wanted the shampooing stations on this side so that the styling chairs could be here, facing the windows. It would provide the customers with such a beautiful view of the azaleas on the side lawn.”

  “What’s more important to you? A pretty view for your customers or installing several thousand dollars of extra plumbing work that’ll tack on at least another two weeks to the length of the job?”

  She tipped her head to the side, thinking. A wry grin slowly formed across her lips. “I’ll find a nice picture to hang on the wall,” Nyree said.

  He laughed. “Thought so.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and studied him for a moment. “So, you work construction full-time?”

  Dale nodded.

  “Are you any good?”

  A smile edged up one side of Dale’s mouth. “I’m very good,” he answered.

  Her gaze dropped to his chest before she focused on his face again. One well-trimmed eyebrow arched as amusement glittered in her amber eyes.

  “Am I supposed to just take your word for it?”

  “You want a demonstration?”

  She shrugged. “It would be nice if you could show me what you can do before I hire you.”

  “Who says I’m available?”

  She pulled that supple bottom lip between her teeth again as her eyes swept the length of his body. “What would it take to make you available?”

  He stepped up to her. “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “On what you’re willing to do for my services.”

  That brow cocked again. “If you’re as good as you say you are, then I’m willing to do just about anything for it, whatever the cost. As far as I’m concerned, everything’s negotiable.”

  Dale surreptitiously sucked in a breath. This no longer felt like lighthearted flirting. This seemed more like ‘let’s go to a movie, grab dinner and then back to my place’ territory. He could work with that.

  “Sorry about the call,” Vanessa said, coming in from the hallway. Her return had the same effect as a blast of freezing cold air hitting his face. Nothing worked better at putting the kibosh on his tempted libido than having his big sister around.

  Dale backed up several feet and stuck his hands in his front pockets. “I…um…I can show you that place a couple of blocks down on Birch if you want to see samples of my work,” he said.

  “Does that mean you’ll do the renovations?” Nyree asked.

  Wait? Had he said that?

  “Of course he’ll do the renovations,” Vanessa said.

  Shit. “Wait.” Dale held both hands up.

  “Please,” Nyree said. It was the desperation in her plea that did him in. “I’m running out of time,” she said. “I’m willing to pay five percent over the going rate if it means you can start as soon as possible.”

  “Can I at least have a day to get you an estimate?” Dale asked.

  What was he saying? He couldn’t take on this job.

  “Yes.” Nyree nodded emphatically. She hooked a thumb toward the door. “I have an extra copy of the design plan and renovation blueprints in my car. You can take them with you to figure out the estimate.”

  Tell her no.

  “Okay,” Dale said instead.

  The smart thing would be to take a day or two to think this over. This job would require more time away from his job at Harding Construction than the smaller side jobs he’d worked on in the past. He should take a step back, tell Nyree that he needed to think about this first.

  But he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. Because the thought of dimming the cautious hope shining in her amber eyes made Dale’s stomach hurt.

  “You want to meet back here the same time tomorrow?” Dale asked.

  Her entire face lit up with her smile, and Dale knew he was toast.

  “Keep in mind that I’m not officially licensed with the Louisiana Licensing Board for Contractors,” he cautioned.

  “But you’ve done this type of work before, right?”

  “Yes, he has,” Vanessa said. “He’s worked construction with Maplesville’s biggest contractor for the past five years. He can handle this job. And he’ll be licensed with the state soon enough.”

  “As long as we’re up and running by April 4th, I don’t care when you get your license.” Nyree turned to Vanessa. “Thank you so much. I was at the end of my rope.”

  “You’re welcome,” his sister returned, her face beaming like a fairy godmother who’d just made someone’s wishes come true. “Congratulations again. I wish you the best with your new business.”

  “Once we’re officially open you’ll have a day of pampering on the house.” Nyree glanced at her watch. “I need to get some sleep before I go in to work tonight. Let me get those blueprints for you.” She motioned for them to follow her out of the house. Once at her SUV, she grabbed a cardboard mailing tube from the backseat and handed it to Dale.

  “One of the biggest tasks will be partitioning two of the upstairs bedrooms into four individual massage areas.” She said as she followed him and Vanessa to where they’d parked on the curb. “You’ll see it when you look at the blueprints.”

  His sister climbed into the driver’s side, but Dale remained standing. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Nyree.

  “You mind putting your number in there?” he asked.

  That subtle, sexy smile curved up the corner of her lips again. “It’s usually a lot harder for a guy to get my number,” she said, her thumbs gliding swiftly across the touchscreen. She handed the phone back to him. “My shift ends at seven a.m., so if you have the estimate ready ahead of time, just text me. I can be here by eight tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll bring coffee,” Dale said, his own smile forming.

  “Two sugars, one cream. See you tomorrow,” she said before turning on her heel and heading back for the house.

  Dale watched her as she walked away. When he got in the car, his sister immediately slapped him upside the head.

  “Hey,” he said, rubbing the side of his head. “What’s that about?”

  “Just knocking some sense into that head of yours, since you obviously lost what little you had. She’s technically your boss now.”

  “I haven’t agreed to take the job just yet.”

  “But you will take the job,” Vanessa said in a voice that brooked no argument. Bossy as hell, per usual. “That means,” she continued as she started the car. “No more of that staring at her ass thing you’ve been doing since we got here.”

  Dale strapped
the seatbelt over his chest and looked over at his sister. “Are you jealous because you want her for yourself?” he asked.

  She snorted. “As if I would ever be unprofessional enough to date a client,” Vanessa said. “Which is something you have to consider now that you’re taking this job.”

  “Hey, I’m not an official contractor, right? So all that professional decorum shit shouldn’t apply to me.”

  She drilled him with a death stare. “I recommended you, so whatever you do will reflect on me. Keep it professional,” she said as she pulled away from the curb.

  Chapter Two

  “No, no, no. You need to hold your core steady,” Dale instructed. He patted his own abs. “Right here. Make sure this is nice and tight. Think of it as your anchor.” He walked around to Kendrick Robertson’s back and clamped his hands on the six-foot-tall teenager’s shoulders. “Keep your shoulders forward, your hips tilted just so, and your legs steady.”

  Dale walked back around the high school junior and faced him. He stared at the boy as he assumed the pose Dale had perfected over the years as a middle linebacker. He’d started honing it when he was still in elementary school and playing in the Pop Warner league with his two best friends, Ian Landry and Sam Stewart.

  “I’m going to count to three,” Dale said. “On three, you charge.” Dale held up his stopwatch. “One, two, three.”

  Kendrick moved with a swiftness he hadn’t possessed a month ago when Dale first started working with him. The kid had taken everything he’d taught him so far and used it to improve his reaction time, agility and speed.

  The circumstances that led to Dale accepting this training gig still had him scratching his head. A buddy of his from Harding Construction had taken on a side job for Lowell Robertson, but came down with a bad flu that put him out of commission. He’d asked Dale to step in for him.

  When Dale showed up for the job the following morning, he’d been taken aback by Lowell Robertson’s excitement. The man’s effusive gushing had been so over-the-top that, for a moment, Dale had honestly thought he’d walked into an elaborate prank set up by Ian and Sam. But it wasn’t a joke. Robertson was just a huge football fan, and revered Dale as one of the best middle linebackers to come out of this area in the last twenty years.

  While Dale installed his new toilet, Robertson had regaled him with a running commentary on the local high school football scene, which his son, Kendrick, was a part of. He’d ranted about the boy’s varsity team losing out in the first round of the high school playoffs this past season. That’s when Robertson had come up with the idea to have Dale tutor Kendrick.

  Dale initially turned him down. He’d stepped away from football after the injury that had changed the course of his life back in his senior year of college. Other than watching the occasional game on Sunday afternoons, Dale had tried his best to stay away from the action.

  Besides, he could tell from the outset that Lowell Robertson fit the mold of Obnoxious Football Dad, the kind who attended every practice and loved putting his two cents in where it didn’t belong. Dale would bet the man had Kendrick’s high school coach popping antacids on a daily basis.

  But Robertson was persistent. Dale eventually caved, but with the stipulation that these one-on-one training sessions be exactly that. He didn’t want Lowell standing over his shoulder, critiquing everything he did. He thought it would be a deal breaker, but Robertson was willing to put up with Dale’s conditions if it meant his son could work with the best.

  He’d kept this training gig under wraps. He hadn’t even told his father, only Sam, Ian and Vanessa. He didn’t want it getting out that he was training someone who played for the Wildcats of Magnolia Bend High, another of the Maplesville Mustangs’ rivals. If the people here knew Dale was tutoring one of the enemies, he’d never live it down. If there was one thing folks in this town took seriously, it was their high school football.

  “That’s good,” Dale said, satisfied with the kid’s stance. He motioned Kendrick to follow him over to where he’d set up short orange cones in the shape of a big letter T. “Time for some T-drills,” Dale said.

  Kendrick responded with a quick nod and immediately began the classic drill used to test agility. He sprinted and shuffled from one cone to the other, tapping the top before going to the next.

  Dale had to admit the kid was good. He was also disciplined and didn’t complain, no matter how hard Dale pushed him. When he looked at Kendrick, he saw someone who didn’t just play for the hell of it. He played because he loved the sport and recognized that it was a privilege to play the game at this level.

  It was scary how much of himself he saw in this kid.

  It had been so long since he’d had anything to do with football other than watching it as a spectator. These few training sessions with Kendrick had reignited the spark. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed it.

  He needed this game in his life.

  Over the past month he’d spent more time studying mock plays to act out with Kendrick than the blueprints of the construction jobs he’d been working on at Harding. But Dale knew this football training thing was temporary. When he wasn’t here with Kendrick, his focus should be on the job that paid the bills.

  And with the offer he’d gotten from Lowell Robertson a couple of weeks ago, the idea of starting his own small general contractor business was looking more and more like it could become reality. Dale still wasn’t sure if the man had offered to become an investor because he actually believed he did quality work, or because he was still star struck. It shouldn’t matter one way or the other to him. As long as Robertson was willing to put up the money, that’s all Dale needed to be concerned with.

  If he could start up his own business, Dale had no doubt it would thrive. Nyree’s difficulty in finding a contractor to renovate the Whitmer House illustrated the need for a smaller outfit in Maplesville. Working construction may not be as glamorous as the NFL career he’d always dreamed of, but it had remained steady despite the dips in the housing market, and he was good at it.

  Dale swallowed down the bitter tang that instantly filled his mouth.

  If someone had told him ten years ago that becoming a general contractor would be the highlight of his life, Dale would have laughed in their faces and told them to piss off. But that’s where things stood right now. This wasn’t what he’d imagined for himself, but he only had himself to blame for the way things had turned out. He was living with the consequences of the choices he’d made years ago. Choices he regretted more than anything in the world.

  ~ ~ ~

  Nyree pulled in behind an old pickup truck that sat in the driveway at Whitmer House. She made out the shape of Dale’s head on the driver’s side moments before the door opened and he alighted from the truck. As he walked toward her car carrying two paper coffee cups, Nyree concentrated on taking a couple of deep breaths. Apparently the insta-lust she experienced after meeting him yesterday wasn’t just a one-time thing.

  It was the way he carried himself. That understated confidence wrapped in a strikingly gorgeous package of toned muscles, light brown skin, and a devastating smile. It was hard not to be a bit overwhelmed.

  She climbed from behind the wheel of her SUV and met him at her front bumper.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Nyree said by way of greeting. “I had some paperwork to finish up at the end of my shift and lost track of time.”

  “I only got here five minutes ago myself,” he said, handing her a paper cup. “Two sugars, one cream.”

  “You remembered.” She couldn’t have contained the smile that blossomed across her lips if her life had depended on it. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll need at least three more of these to make it through the rest of the morning.”

  “Rough shift at the hospital?”

  Nyree’s forehead creased in a frown. “Huh?”

  He reached over and fingered the hem of her sleeve. “I assumed you worked at Maplesville General.”

  “Oh, the scrubs
,” she said. She took a sip of coffee, needing the brief pause to bring her heart rate back under control after his light touch. “They’re not just for people in the medical field, you know?” she continued with a laugh. “I’m a chemist at Lakeshore Oil Refinery. We wear scrubs in the lab because we deal with chemicals that will ruin a nice shirt in three seconds flat.”

  She paused to release an embarrassingly long yawn.

  “Oh, wow. Excuse me,” Nyree said.

  Dale’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? I can come back later.”

  She shook her head. “No. The sooner you can get started, the better. Do you have the estimate?”

  He pulled a set of folded papers from his back pocket, but he didn’t hand it over. Instead, he tapped it against his thigh, the paper rasping against the fabric of his faded blue jeans.

  “Before we go over this I want to make sure I included all the renovations you have in mind. Are you okay with doing another walk-through before we discuss price?” Dale asked.

  “Of course,” she said, motioning for him to follow her.

  As they made their way through each room, Nyree gave him a more detailed explanation of everything she envisioned.

  “I want the experience to be seamless for the people who choose to do an entire day of pampering. That means they move from their massage with Cheyenne, to a facial and makeup application with Amara, and finally into one of the chairs in Reesa’s hair salon without missing a beat.”

  He nodded while making notes on a spiral bound notepad he’d pulled from his pocket. They made their way upstairs, into the rooms that would become Cheyenne’s massage center.

  Dale stood in the middle of one of the empty bedrooms that faced the front of the house. “According to the blueprints, you want to divide these two front bedrooms into four individual massage areas and a small lobby, but you don’t indicate the level of soundproofing you want in the two additional walls I’ll have to erect. I’ve never had a massage in a spa before, but I assume peace and quiet is a part of the experience.”