her final destination, Danni went straight for the refrigerator and the secret weapon she used to win everyone over.
Her dessert.
Chapter Three
This was obviously a man who did not like being told what to do, Danni decided as she placed the large plate of freshly made dessert on the table. When he was growing up, his mother probably had to suggest that he drink his milk, otherwise, she was willing to bet, he went out of his way not to touch it just to prove his independence.
In some ways, she supposed she could relate to that. While she liked being polite, she was never anyone’s pushover.
Maizie Sommers had sung this man’s praises, which meant that in the Realtor’s experience, the contractor got an overall A rating for both the quality of his work and the prices he charged. That was certainly more than good enough for her, Danni thought. There was no way she wanted to antagonize the man on top of already being late for their appointment and having kept him waiting.
So Danni put on her very best smile and graciously accepted his refusal of her dessert.
“Don’t worry, I won’t force-feed you. But it’ll be right there, waiting for you, just in case you wind up changing your mind,” she told him, moving away from the table. “Okay, why don’t I show you what needs doing?” she offered cheerfully.
Stone barely nodded. “That sounds like a good idea,” he agreed.
Danni began to regret not wearing a sweater. Did this man take time to warm up, or was he always going to be a wee bit cooler than an artic breeze?
It wasn’t that she required Stone Scarborough to ooze personality and charm, it was just that she knew the work she had in mind wasn’t going to be something that could be accomplished in a day or a week—or a month, even if the man moved in to do it. Since this would be a long, drawn out process and they would be around each other for a long stretch of time—unless he had a magic wand in his arsenal or a squadron of eager elves at his disposal—she definitely didn’t want to feel uncomfortable in her own home for the duration of the renovations.
That meant, quite simply, that they had to get along.
More than that, it required, in her opinion, that they liked each other, at least to a modest degree. She wasn’t looking for a best friend, but neither was she looked for someone who behaved as if he might appear on the cover of Grouches Inc., Monthly some time in the very near future.
So, as she showed the general contractor around her two-story house, Danni did her best to break through what she viewed as his crusty outer shell, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t wind up just coming up against a crusty inner shell.
“Have you been a general contractor long?” Danni asked, trying to draw him into a round of pleasant smalltalk.
She actually knew the answer to her own question—she’d Googled Stone Scarborough during the very short lunch break she’d taken at the studio and found the contractor’s website—but it was the first question that occurred to her. In her experience, people liked to talk about themselves. It tended to put them at ease.
“Long enough to get it right,” Stone answered crisply. “I can give you references from former clients if you’d like,” he offered.
It couldn’t hurt, Danni thought. “I’d like,” she echoed out loud.
More than his caliber of work—which, because Maizie had recommended him she assumed was top-drawer—Danni wanted to talk to the women whose houses Stone had worked on. She wanted to find out if he’d been as monotone with them as he was being with her. At least then, if his personality came across the same way with them as it did with her, she wouldn’t feel as if she’d offended the man.
“Then I’ll get them to you tomorrow morning,” Stone promised her. “Do you want to wait until you’ve had a chance to look them over, or do you want to go ahead and tell me what you had in mind by way of changes for this house?”
Danni looked around for a moment, as if making up her mind one final time before speaking. As it happened, she’d already decided and she wasn’t seeking other’s opinions on his work to see if he was equal to the project. She just wanted to know if he ever turned out to be a “real, live boy” or continued being as wooden as Pinocchio for the entire time he worked on their renovations.
Turning toward him, Danni summed up the answer to his question regarding the work she wanted done in one succinct word. “Everything.”
Because he was waiting for an answer to the first part of his question first, her answer initially confused him. “Excuse me?”
“Everything,” Danni cheerfully repeated. “I need a great many changes made to this house, from top to bottom.”
Stone found that that made no practical sense at all to him. “If you want to change everything, why’d you buy the house in the first place, if you don’t mind my asking?” He knew that in her position, he wouldn’t have. But then, he’d come to realize that the female mind worked much differently from the male one.
For one thing, logic appeared to have little or no place in it, or in making final decisions.
“No, I don’t mind,” Danni replied.
From her tone, he felt she wasn’t just putting on an act or pretending not to mind the personal question he’d just asked—God knew that he would have. So far, she sounded pretty guileless, considering her gender. Maybe she wasn’t so typical, after all.
“I bought the place because it had a price range I could afford,” she admitted honestly, “the front yard had a great orientation for my flower garden and, as they say in real estate, the house looked like it had ‘a lot of potential.’”
Stone shook his head when she was finished. “That’s usually real estate speak for ‘the house is a real clunker.’”
“But it does have potential,” Danni insisted. “I can see it.” And she really could. When she walked through the fifty-year-old house, she could visualize the changes she wanted. The transformation would make the two-story house into a showplace.
Stone merely shrugged. It was her money. “If you say so,” he conceded. And then he got back to something she’d said about the property’s orientation. “You have a flower garden?” he asked. When he’d come up the front walk, he hadn’t seen a single bud and when she’d brought him into the kitchen, he had a view of the backyard—which also barren. Where was this so-called flower garden of hers?
Her smile held promise rather than embarrassment. “Not yet. But I intend to.”
Stone took a wild guess. “This is more of that ‘potential’ the property has, right?”
The woman practically beamed at him, as if to congratulate him that he was finally getting the hang of it. “Right.”
Why did she feel as if she were on trial? Maybe he was just trying to see if she committed to this and wouldn’t lose interest and send him on his way in the middle of the job. If that was what he thought, he didn’t know her. Once she signed on to something, she remained committed for the duration.
