I pouted, feeling slightly offended that he didn’t find my whole “getup” charming. And, really, “ridiculous” was an exaggeration. “I’m wearing this because I figured no one would appreciate it if I borrowed their tools,” I started, motioning to my belt before fingering the brim of my safety helmet. “And as for this, well, safety first, right?” I smiled wistfully.
Ryan crossed his arms against his chest, and his lips were tight. “Peyton, we never discussed, and furthermore, I never agreed to havin’ you…here…workin’.”
“Well, then this is your lucky day because you’ve got one extra crew member and you don’t even have to pay me!” I held my arms out wide and did a funny jig sort of thing with my feet, like I was practicing for vaudeville before finishing the routine with a flash of jazz hands.
Ryan couldn’t help his smirk, try though he did. It took him a good few seconds to banish the grin from his mouth. “No way,” he said, shaking his head, although it wasn’t lost on me that he was fighting against another smile—I mean, I had used jazz hands on him.… Moments later, apparently when he realized exactly what I was proposing, there was no hint of amusement in his eyes or on his lips at all. “It’s way too dangerous.”
“I won’t get in the way, I promise,” I started, instantly dropping my previous song and dance. “I really want to be a part of the remodel, though, Ryan.”
“Bloody hell,” he grumbled as he glanced down at the floor and shook his head again, running a hand through the unruly waves of golden hair. Of course, it did occur to me that he might take extreme exception to having me on the job, after what happened to his wife, but I wasn’t going to let that stand in my way. What happened in the past was the past, and the chances of something similar happening again were next to nil. Besides, I wanted to be involved in my remodel.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” the man Ryan was in conversation with announced before offering me a quick smile.
“Hi, I’m Peyton,” I said, extending my hand, which he heartily accepted with his own sweaty one.
“I’m George Tate,” he responded, and his round face, laughing eyes, and red cheeks made him look like he could have been a good Santa Claus.
“George is the owner of Tate Construction,” Ryan added. “I invited George over to give me his opinion on your remodel. He’s incredibly well known around these parts and very talented.”
“Said by a true artist,” George answered, patting Ryan on the back before bringing his attention to the room around him and sighing. “You’ve got quite the job here, Kelly, quite the job.”
Ryan’s eyes met mine when he responded and they didn’t stray. “Unfortunately, sometimes you can’t talk your way out of such things.”
I frowned, arching one eyebrow to indicate I wasn’t feeling sorry for him. George apparently caught my expression because he laughed. “I can’t recall you ever agreein’ to anything you didn’t want to do,” he said, nudging Ryan in the arm with his plump elbow.
“I knew it!” I said, grasping the life raft George threw me as I elbowed Ryan’s other side.
“Ouch! Will both of you stop attackin’ me?” Ryan demanded.
George and I laughed at the same time while I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest, eyeing George with a frown. “Do you know that he gave me a huge guilt trip over agreeing to take on this job?”
“It appears like it was a war of wills,” George answered matter-of-factly.
“Some advice, George; never go up against her because you will lose!” Ryan said with the hint of a laugh.
George just shook his head and smirked at the both of us, like he knew something we didn’t. “Well, I’ve got places to go an’ people to see,” he said as he turned on his heel and started for the front door. Apparently remembering himself, he called over his shoulder, “Nice to meet you, Miss Peyton!”
“You too!” I sang to his retreating figure before bringing my attention back to Ryan, only to find his gaze still on me.
“You can give me all the crappy jobs,” I continued, pursuing my argument to convince him to hire me, for lack of a better word. “I’ll do coffee runs for the guys, lunch, you name it,” I persisted, starting to sound desperate. I glanced down at my tool belt. “I can hammer stuff, screw stuff in…” I pulled out the measuring tape. “I can even measure!”
Ryan sighed long and hard while continuing to shake his head, but I could see a twinkle of amusement lighting up his eyes. Before long, a recalcitrant smirk captured the ends of his lips, forcing them upward into something that resembled a smile. “You are gonna be the death of me, Peyton Clark,” he grumbled. I didn’t say anything but allowed him to study my helmet before his eyes fell to my waist again, and he seemed to be taking mental stock of my tools.
“Come on, you like it,” I prodded. He glanced up at me but said nothing, so I continued, “You think I actually look incredibly cute with my matching pink toolwear.”
“Toolwear?” he asked with a shake of his head.
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I call it. Fashionable tools, you know?”
He chuckled, his warm eyes settling on mine. “If you must know, Peyton, yes, I do like it. I think you look incredibly”—he looked me up and down—“cute.”
“I’ll take it.”
He continued to inspect me, looking as if he were at a loss for words. “Where did you find all that ridiculous stuff, anyhow?”
I beamed, pleased I’d apparently won the argument over whether or not my ridiculous stuff and I could stay on. Then I glanced down at my fingernails before buffing them against my white button-down shirt and gave him my best smug expression. “Oh, just at the hardware store.”
He shook his head again and started forward, glancing quickly behind him when I didn’t take his lead. “Are you comin’ or what?”
“Yessir, boss, sir!” I said in the best serviceman impersonation I could muster as I hopped forward before saluting him.
“Wrong hand,” he said with the expression of someone unimpressed. “Always salute with your right hand.”
“Whatever!” I responded with an indifferent wave of my hand as I followed him down the hallway into the guest room, located at the easternmost corner of the house. I could already hear the sounds of demolition, and the air was thick with dust from what, I imagined, was the drywall being torn down.
“Gotta pair of gloves in that silly getup?” Ryan asked, glancing over his shoulder at me.
“Shoot,” I said with real disappointment as I shook my head.
“What? They didn’t have any pink ones?” he asked with a laugh.
I shrugged. “Maybe, I just forgot to look.”
“Well, I’m sure we can find an extra pair for you somewhere around here, but put them on your shoppin’ list.”
“Sir, yessir!” This time, I saluted him the proper way.
“Good Lord!” he grumbled. “If you weren’t so damn cute, I would’ve fired you a long time ago!”
As soon as we entered the guest room, I noticed two men working demolition—each on opposite sides of the room. Ryan approached the man closer to us, who was covered in fine white dust. The man pulled down his breathing mask and smiled at both of us.
“How’s it goin’?” Ryan asked as he leaned onto his knees and inspected the nearly bare wall. The man had half of one wall completely stripped down to the studs. Ryan ran his fingers across the rough surface of one of the studs, dipping his fingernail into what looked like honeycomb in the wood. “Termites?” Ryan asked his worker.
The man pointed at a few of the studs. “Yeah, but looks like it’s old damage. Ain’t come across nothin’ new…yet.”
Ryan nodded as I stepped over the pile of debris on the floor. Glancing down, I recognized large pieces of drywall; the remains of aged flowery blue wallpaper; and what looked like whitewashed wooden boards. I reached down and picked up one of the boards, which was maybe a foot long by a foot wide. I wasn’t sure why it caught my attention, but I flipped it over all the same, only to find a very aged and yellow newspaper clipping attached to the back of it. The heading of the newspaper was torn, presumably from when it was ripped off the wall, but I could make out that the rest of it was an advertisement of some sort. There was a torn image of a horse and beneath that, the words: “Use Jona’s Salve to Keep Your Horse in Good Health!”