Hammer, Nails, and Happily Ever After? Read online

  “Thank you. I haven’t worked on it all by myself, though.”

  She chuckled. “I should hope not. It would take forever for one person to tackle this size project. I wouldn’t think the owner would be that patient. Is the rest of the crew at lunch?”

  He laughed and started to say something when a sudden clap of thunder interrupted him. They both looked up at the rapidly moving clouds, the dark, charcoal-gray color signifying an imminent storm. She could smell rain in the wind that was gradually growing stronger. “Where did this come from?” she wondered aloud.

  “It’s not uncommon for storms to develop unexpectedly here in the spring. You’ve heard the old saying? If you don’t like the weather in Texas, stick around a minute. It’s sure to change.”

  She grinned. “I love a good storm, but I’m not thrilled about driving in one. I better go.”

  “Perfect timing, I just finished cleaning your shoes. I think they’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sure they will. It was very thoughtful of you.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” He handed over her shoes and bent to turn off the water. “Let me get you my card and—”

  “You poor thing!” Ginger exclaimed. She ignored the quizzical look Greg gave her because her comment hadn’t been directed at him. A big, black Labrador retriever stood in the middle of the street. She started moving slowly toward the animal and heard Greg rush to catch up to her. When she reached the sidewalk, she dropped her shoes and squatted down, holding out a hand to the dog just a few feet from her.

  “Are you crazy? You don’t ever approach a strange dog!”

  She sent him a look over her shoulder. “Lower your voice,” she commanded quietly. She turned back to the dog, meeting his sorrowful golden-brown eyes for a moment before he lowered his big head. Another loud boom of thunder erupted, and the dog cowered.

  Without looking at Greg, she said, “Stay here. I don’t want to scare him any more than necessary, but if he runs, I’ll need you to help me catch him.”

  Greg tensed, but she was not going to let that deter her. She hoped he wasn’t the type of man who bristled when a woman took charge. This poor dog needed help, and she was going to do everything in her power to provide it. His ribs protruded through his dull coat, and his tail hung low, a perfect example of complete despair. Just looking at him broke her heart.

  “He doesn’t look aggressive,” Greg said. After a short pause he went on. “You can’t take that for granted, though. What are you planning on doing?”

  “I just want to comfort him. He’s scared and he’s obviously lost.”

  “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t approach him. His behavior is entirely unpredictable. He could turn on you in a heartbeat.”

  “That’s nonsense.” She stood and started walking slowly toward the large animal. “Hey, boy, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now. There’s no reason to be frightened.”

  When she was just a few steps away, the dog sat down. He avoided eye contact and hunched his shoulders. Had he been abandoned, or had he somehow escaped from his yard and gotten lost? From the indent in the fur around his neck, it did look like he had been wearing a collar until recently. Regardless, someone had to have noticed him wandering around and made the choice to ignore him.

  When she was close enough to touch him, she stopped and gently laid her hand on his head, patting him softly and rubbing behind his ears while she kept up a steady flow of encouraging words. His coat felt rough and dirty. He shuddered but didn’t run or jerk away. Finally, he raised his head. The complete look of adoration he gave her warmed her heart. She smiled, hoping the dog would understand she was a friend. “If I could find your owner,” she said, her tone gentle and comforting, the smile still in place, “I’d string his butt up on a flagpole and withhold food and water until he begged for mercy.”

  Greg chuckled quietly. “I don’t have any dog food, but I’ve got some hotdogs in the house. Be right back.”

  Ginger’s eyebrows shot up as she watched Greg walk up the porch and then right in the front door of the house. The house he was working on. She turned back to the dog, a wry twist to her mouth as she bent to rub her hands over the dog’s body, searching for any unseen injuries. “The male species is all the same,” she muttered. “They can’t be honest about anything.” The dog raised his head and licked her cheek. She laughed. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  Chapter Two

  The clouds rolled in, fully covering the sun, and the wind had picked up considerably by the time Greg came back out. It was only a matter of time before the heavens opened up and released what was sure to be a drenching shower. A frog-strangler, as her father used to say.

  Ginger had coaxed the big dog up into the yard where he promptly lay down at her feet. His eyes were alert, and they stayed focused on her…until Greg drew near with the hotdogs. The Lab’s head swiveled, his ears went up, and his nose twitched. Ginger grinned. That was a good sign.

  Greg bent down and gently offered the dog a hotdog. It was gone in an instant. Greg fed him another one. “I don’t know when he had his last meal, but we better make him slow down. I don’t want him to get sick from eating too fast.”

  She didn’t reply. She crossed her arms and stared at him until he turned to look at her.

  His eyebrows rose. “What?”

  “You know what. You led me to believe you were a hired contractor. Why didn’t you tell me this is your house?”

  His lips twisted, and he innocently shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t think it really mattered. Besides, you could have been a stalker who had spotted me from the street and been captivated by my stunning good looks. The last thing I’d want you to know is where I lived,” he said with an exaggerated shudder.

  She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Okay, point made. Anyway, I’m glad you were able to give Jack something to eat.”

  “Jack?”

  She nodded toward the dog who had his eyes glued on the remaining hotdogs. “I named him Jack.”

  “Oh. Well, what are you planning on doing with him—I mean, Jack?” He broke a hotdog in half and fed it to the dog.

  “I’m going to take him with me.”

  “You do realize he could belong to somebody around here. He might have escaped from his yard, and his owner is out searching for him right now.”

  She didn’t mention she had already thought of that. “So what would you have me do? Should I let him keep wandering around? From the looks of it, he’s either been on the loose a long, long time, or his owner is extremely neglectful.”

  “Look, I’ll put him in the backyard for a couple of days. If somebody doesn’t claim him, I will take him to a shelter where I’m sure he will find a good home. Will that make you feel better?”

  A loud roar of thunder pierced the air, followed by a strong gust of wind. “A shelter? Are you serious?” Her voice had risen to match the level of Mother Nature, but she didn’t care. She reached up to stop the hair whipping in her face. “No, I’ve already made up my mind. I’m going to take him with me. I will check this neighborhood off and on for the next couple of weeks. If somebody posts a sign, I’m going to research him or her before I turn him over. If nobody reports him lost, then he’s mine.” She notched her chin up a bit and flashed him a warning with her eyes. This subject was not up for debate.

  And that was when the first raindrops started to fall.

  She quickly ducked her head and backed up toward her car. Clapping her hands, she encouraged Jack to follow her. “Come on, boy! Let’s go for a ride.” The minute she moved, Jack was on his feet, following her without hesitation. She ignored the doubtful look Greg cast at her small car. Opening the back door, she snapped her fingers for Jack to get in.

  The rain began to fall in earnest, the large drops slanting in the wind so it was impossible to escape the deluge. Jack appeared willing and eager to do whatever she wanted him to do—except get in the car. He stood there, his tail betwee
n his legs, his eyes pleading with her to understand his fear.

  She did understand, and she sympathized, but she was not going to drown trying to convince him it was safe to get in the car. Determined, she got behind him and pushed on his rear, but he only turned his head and looked at her, refusing to budge. “You could help me, you know!” she yelled at Greg.

  Greg’s sigh was audible over the wind, but he did come to stand beside her. “Get inside the car and call him,” he shouted.

  Nodding, she crawled into the back of the car where she pulled her legs up and scooted backward toward the opposite door. She called to Jack while Greg wrapped his arms around the dog’s belly and tugged. Jack tried to plant his feet, but he was no match for Greg’s strength. Eventually Jack was close enough that he had no choice but to scramble inside the car. Quickly, Greg shut the door while Ginger scrambled out the other door and slammed it closed.

  Breathing heavy, she peered through the window to make sure Jack was calm before giving Greg a thumbs-up sign. Then she laughed and twirled around the car to stand in front of him. She held her hand over her eyes and raised her head. “Thank you so much for everything,” she yelled over the clamoring rain. “I’m going to make sure Jack understands you were instrumental in saving his life despite your shelter remark.”

  “You’re very welcome. Do you want me to follow you to make sure you can get him out of the car?”

  She shook her head. “No, that won’t be necessary, but I appreciate the offer. It should be easy to get him out. You better get inside before you drown.” Winking, she gave him a wide smile before she opened the door and ducked inside.

  As she pulled away, she glanced in her rearview mirror. Greg was still standing in the street, and she swallowed, almost running into the curb. He had planted his feet slightly apart, and his arms hung at his sides. He looked…well, magnificent. Water streamed down his head and over his bare shoulders. He was a man who stood alone, a man who could—and would—take on the world and win.

  Blinking, she swung her eyes to the front. She couldn’t begin to understand where that insane thought had come from, but she’d recently learned to recognize one thing—danger.

  Greg was dangerous to her peace of mind. Good thing she wouldn’t be seeing him ever again.

  ****

  Greg waited until Ginger’s car reached the end of the street before he turned and ran for the house. He grabbed his T-shirt from one of the front porch chairs, used it to dry his face and chest as best he could, and then plunked down in the chair. The rain was coming down so heavy that veils of thick liquid sheets blocked his view of the houses right across the street.

  With all the velocity, this storm wouldn’t last long. He wished it had held off just a little bit longer, though. It would have been nice to spend more time with Ginger. Maybe even ask her out to dinner. After all, they had just shared in the rescue of a lost dog. What better icebreaker was there than that?

  The appearance of the dog—Jack—had shown him Ginger was not only beautiful; she was also kind and fearless. When she knelt in front of the dog, he had been terrified she was going to lose a hand…or a whole arm, but it looked like she knew what she was doing. She hadn’t displayed any fear, and thankfully, she hadn’t crooned to the big dog in high-pitched baby talk that only served to excite animals instead of calming them down.

  He had also discovered—much to his chagrin—his hormones could still rise to the level of a teenage boy. The struggle not to openly gape at the sight of her skirt hiked up to her thighs as she knelt had been monumental, and her standing in the rain with her business suit plastered to her body had left little to the imagination. And he had a very vivid imagination.

  It had been a lifetime since he felt that instant attraction to a woman. Not since…no, he was not going to go there. Dinner and some light conversation? Yeah, he could do that. And, most likely, it would have been fun. However, anything more was out of the question, crazy hormones or not.

  He shook his head and sighed. All of this introspection was pointless. He hadn’t even asked Ginger for her full name. Standing, he slipped his shirt over his head and turned toward the door. He paused when something caught his eye. A smile slowly crossed his face. A pair of red heels lay on the sidewalk. He didn’t hesitate. He darted back through the rain and scooped them up. More than likely they were ruined by now, but he would see Ginger again, after all, when she returned to get her shoes.

  But she didn’t.

  On Monday morning, Greg pulled in front of the office and climbed out of his truck. The weekend had been a complete waste of two days. He hadn’t accomplished a single thing. Not only had it rained off and on the entire time, but he had spent the majority of his energy peering out the dining room window for a red Mustang to pull up, driven by a raven-haired spitfire.

  The house he and his two brothers had purchased needed a lot of work, but even that fact hadn’t spurred him into action. He had been uncharacteristically restless. Even his brothers’ presence would have been a welcome distraction, but at the last minute they had chosen to attend a weekend conference in Houston on new energy sources and wouldn’t be back until later today.

  He was most definitely in a funk.

  With a deep sigh he shrugged off his discontent and unlocked the front door to the office. He turned on the lights and then headed to the break room. Normally, he would start his workday out on the jobsite, but with his brothers out of town, the task of opening up the office fell on his shoulders. In addition, the weather would pretty much shut down the construction jobs for the day.

  Might as well work on getting caught up with the paperwork side of the operation—the part of the job that thrilled him as much as watching grass grow. Yawning, he turned on the coffeepot.

  The break room was set up like a complete functioning kitchen with a sink, microwave, a full-sized refrigerator, and an oblong table with six chairs. Cups, plates, and bowls filled the cabinets, and the drawers held silverware, plastic zipper bags, and empty containers to store leftover food. Since Greg and his brothers often worked late hours, easy-to-prepare food and plenty of canned drinks and bottled water were always available. Everybody took it upon themselves to keep the place stocked. Greg quickly skimmed through the cabinets and made a mental note to bring more peanut butter and tuna fish.

  While the coffee was brewing, he opened the refrigerator and looked for food that would soon qualify as science projects if not disposed of. In the middle of his task, he heard the swish of the front door opening. “I’m in here,” he called out. Becky Lawson, their office assistant, was likely coming in early to work on loose ends since she would be leaving the company soon.

  It was going to be next to impossible to replace Becky. Then he remembered. Her replacement would be starting today. He groaned. Great. He could hardly wait for the training process to begin. Monday was living up to its reputation.

  The sound of heels tapping purposefully on the floor tile approached. He reached in the cabinet for a coffee mug. “You’re pretty early this morning. Can’t wait to get the next few days over with, huh?”

  “Actually, I’m looking forward to it.”

  Surprised, Greg turned toward the doorway—and nearly dropped the cup he was holding. That voice did not belong to Becky, and even though the woman who had dominated his thoughts all weekend now wore a green shirt over jeans and high-heeled sandals instead of a business suit, he would have recognized her anywhere.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were…Greg?”

  Suddenly, the day didn’t seem so dismal after all. “Well, well, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were following me. Are you that desperate to find a contractor?”

  Ginger’s mouth dropped open for a moment, but then her eyebrows rose, and a glint appeared in her eyes. She cocked her head and feigned an elitist attitude. “I said I was looking for an experienced contractor, not somebody who tinkers around his own house.”

  “Ouch.” He laughed and cocked an eyebr
ow. “But what if I told you I was an experienced tinkerer and this place couldn’t survive without me?”

  “I’d say you were full of it,” she countered easily. Then she stopped and blinked.

  He grinned and watched her face as the reality of the situation became clear.

  “You’re Greg Tucker.”

  “Guilty.” He leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his legs. “I’m going to make a wild guess here and assume you are not chasing down stray dogs. How is Jack, by the way?”

  Her eyes immediately turned wary. “Jack is doing great. It rained all weekend, so I haven’t had a chance to look for notices of a lost dog, though. Why? Have you seen anything?”

  “Relax. I just wanted to know if you were having any problems with him.”

  “Oh. No, Jack is doing great. Um…by the way, I’m your new office administrator.”

  “I figured as much. Welcome aboard.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but you look an awful lot like your brother.”

  “Brothers, as in plural. You’ll meet Steve soon. Of course, I’m the nicest and the best looking out of the bunch, but the other two do the best they can with what they have to work with.”

  Her laugh was clear and sincere, and her green eyes sparkled with humor. He turned to grab another cup.

  This Monday was definitely looking up.

  ****

  Or not.

  Greg gave up. With a frustrated sigh, he pushed away from his computer and went to stand beside the long drafting table placed along one wall of his office. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stared at the blueprints spread out on top, but he wasn’t really seeing the architectural details. He couldn’t concentrate.