Heatherly Bell - Airman To The Rescue

“This house has one bathroom. One.”

He grinned. “I was taught to share.”

“And how long do you think it will take to finish?”

He glanced up at the ceiling, then met her eyes. “Depends on the roof. But I’m thinking a month or two.”

“That’s about all the time I have left. And I was thinking of skipping the roof anyway.”

“We’ll discuss it.” He studied her. “This could work.”

It might work, but she hated the fact Matt was rescuing her again. She’d been an independent woman her entire adult life, but since coming to California this might be the third time Matt had stepped in. Second if she didn’t count the coffee incident. When she’d first come out to California a few months ago, after getting the news her father had died, it was Matt who had understood her grief. Not Stone. Matt who had acted as peacemaker between her and Stone. Matt who had listened to her ramble on for hours. Matt who had been such a good friend to her. He was a great guy, and she wished she didn’t feel a magnetic attraction to him. Life would be simpler if they could be buddies, and if she would never want anything more than that from him.

Fat chance.

Seated next to her, far too close, he waited for her answer.

“But you’ll only get at most two months of free rent before we have to sell the house.”

“That’s probably all I’ll need.”

“That doesn’t sound like enough for all your efforts. And then there’s the materials. The cabinets.” She sighed, not wanting to go on with the rest of the list and hear him curse again.

“I’ve got connections, and I can find a lot of the materials I’ll need for less money.”

“No.”

“Ah, hell, Sarah. Now you’re pissing me off.”

She smiled, stupid with the satisfaction she could make him feel anything at all. “But I have a counter proposition.”

He scowled. “Let’s hear it.”

She shifted her focus away from him and those piercing eyes to stare at her hands again. “I think you should be a partner with me in this. When I sell the house, I’ll give you a percentage of the profits I make.”

He studied her. “That sound fair to you?”

“It’s the only way I’ll do this.”

“You’ve already put too much into this house. Bought Stone out of his half.”

“And because of insane valley prices, the house has already appreciated in value since I did.”

“I could only take five percent at the most. And that’s after all your expenses.”

That didn’t seem fair, considering all he’d have to put into this. “I’m thinking twenty percent.”

He grimaced. “How about ten percent?”

“Fifteen percent, and that’s my final offer!”

The chair squeaked across the tile kitchen floor as Matt stood. “You drive a hard bargain. Backward. Fifteen percent, you stubborn woman.”

Sarah stood and followed him to the front door. “I’ll clear out one of the bedrooms so you can move in.”

“Leave that for me. I’ll be by day after tomorrow.” He shoved his aviator glasses back on.

And then he was out the door, leaving her to wonder how she’d ever get through the next two months without jumping Matt Conner’s bones.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE IDEA OF living with Sarah already pushed boundaries Matt didn’t feel comfortable crossing. Taking money from her left him feeling disgusted for accepting her terms. But he knew Sarah would have this no other way.

Later, he’d try to find a way out of their agreement. For now, he’d take one challenge at a time. First challenge: find a way to live in close proximity with Sarah for two months without kissing her—or worse. Second challenge: fix the mess the previous contractor left for him. He was driving down Monterey Road toward his father’s house when his third challenge buzzed his cell phone.

Joanne. His ex.

He punched her through to the speaker. “What’s up?”

“We have a problem here. Junior has decided he has a new purpose in life. It’s called driving his mother to drink.”

“What now?”

“He and his friends spray-painted the long wooden fence down from the high school. Security cameras caught the little Einsteins, and now the school wants to have a conference with all the parents before the end of the year. I want you there. I think maybe having his father be an Air Force veteran could help. Can you come in your uniform?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?”

“First, I wouldn’t do that if it would get my own father off death row. Second, I’m no longer in the Air Force. I’m not going to put on the uniform to prevent my son from receiving his deserved punishment.”

“There you go again, father of the year.”

Even now it stung, despite knowing the source. Joanne had never before encouraged his relationship with Hunter. She’d simply wanted the checks sent on time, no matter what part of the country he’d been living in at the time. He’d paid child support faithfully for years, but since he’d separated from the Air Force and settled back in his hometown for good, he wanted a real relationship with fifteen-year-old Hunter. And the kid wanted to hang out with Matt about as much as he wanted to repeat his sophomore year.

“Text me the day and time and I’ll be there.” He hung up.

Hunter might not want to have anything to do with Matt, but it didn’t mean he could give up. He hadn’t worked his ass off for most of his life only to be intimidated by a fifteen-year-old kid now. Matt wanted to be some kind of an influence on his son in the next few years, maybe so the kid wouldn’t wind up making some of the same colossal “think with the little head” mistakes Matt had made in his teens.

It also wouldn’t hurt to demonstrate to a certain dark-haired beauty that not all estranged fathers were deadbeats. Matt tried to tell himself it had nothing to do with Sarah, but something about her made him care a lot more deeply for her than he wanted to. More than was probably wise. Not that he’d been able to stop. He enjoyed teasing her, playing with her, and while he told himself it was all harmless flirting, he’d have to put a stop to it if they were going to be living together. Because were he being honest with himself, he and Sarah weren’t a good idea for many reasons. She planned to leave town after selling her father’s house for a tidy profit, and for the first time in years, Matt was determined to be grounded. He’d stay here in Fortune at least until Hunter graduated from high school.

Matt stopped by the local market and stocked up on a few of his father’s favorites, and thirty minutes later he arrived at Dad’s gated condominium complex in San Jose.

“Hey, Dad.” He said as he let himself in the front door with his spare set of keys.

Dad sat in front of the TV watching an old Western. “Did you get my cookies?”

“You think I would forget after you left me ten voice mails in the space of an hour?” Matt set the brown paper bags on the kitchen counter and started unpacking.

Dad wasn’t much for cooking any longer, so Matt usually bought frozen and prepackaged meals he could heat in a microwave. The cookies were a treat he didn’t think should be in any sixty-six-year-old man’s wheelhouse but it was hard to argue with the man. Plus, Matt’s special deliveries were about the only time they spent together.

“Did you get the double-stuffs? I don’t want those little thin shits they’re trying to sell to the health nuts. I want the real deal.”

“Got the real deal.” Matt lobbed a package of the sugar lard in his Dad’s direction and the man caught them one-handed.

“Hear from your son lately?”

“I’m going to be seeing him again next week.”

“Good, good. A boy needs his father.”