wondered if it took him this long to process everything. “Amanda Bliss Johnson. Junior’s the nickname I got at work.”
“You want me to call you Junior?” he asked, with a hint of humor in his low baritone.
“Or Amanda.” She waved a hand. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter to me.” What did was getting this gig. It would allow her to settle in this ruggedly beautiful place for an entire month before moving on to her next rural job.
Justin McCabe continued to contemplate her as if he either didn’t believe she could really be an ace carpenter or wasn’t going to be comfortable having a woman undertake such a large job.
Amanda sighed.
Great, just great. She’d gotten up at the crack of dawn to put the finishing touches on a built-in bookcase for a very fussy client, then spent hours getting all her stuff packed up and driving all the way out here. Now, the deceptively laid-back McCabe was acting like he wanted to fire her on the spot.
Deciding it was his turn to be put in the hot seat, Amanda stepped closer. “Do you have a problem with the fact I’m a woman?”
“No.” He was clearly fibbing. “Not at all.”
Then why couldn’t he stop looking at her like he was going to need a protective force field just to be anywhere near her? “I come highly recommended.” The defensive words were out before she could stop them.
“I know.” He exhaled, beginning to look as off-kilter as she felt. “I just expected a guy. That’s all.”
A common mistake, given that most of her competitors were male. Still, Amanda refused to let Justin McCabe off the hook. Sensing there was more to whatever it was going on with him, she arched a brow.
There was a beat of complete and utter silence.
He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I did a Google search on your company after Libby told me she had arranged for A. B. Johnson Carpentry to come out and finish the work on an emergency basis. The website said the company was founded in San Angelo, Texas, by Angus ‘Buddy’ Johnson thirty-eight years ago.”
Proudly, Amanda relayed, “That’s my grandfather. He still runs the business—although he’s supposed to be phasing out of that, too—but he stopped doing the rural gigs a year ago.” After much persuading on her part.
Amanda touched her thumb to the center of her chest. “I do them now.”
It was McCabe’s turn to appear irritated. “So why didn’t you make that clear in the communication with Libby? Unless—” he paused, still scrutinizing her closely “—you’re trying to purposely mislead people?”
Amanda really did not want to get into this. However, he’d left her no choice. “When I first started doing jobs on my own the company was getting a lot of requests for me that had nothing whatsoever to do with my talent as a carpenter.”
Understanding dawned on his handsome face. Along with a hint of anger. Amanda warmed beneath the intensity in his eyes. “So we took all the employee photos off the website and just listed the carpenters by name, or in my case, just my initials and last name. To differentiate me from my granddad we added the Junior to my name. That successfully eliminated all the customers just interested in making up jobs to hit on me.”
“Makes sense.”
She straightened. “Luckily, that’s not going to be the case here.”
“No,” he concurred, meeting her stern gaze. “It’s not.”
“Good to hear.” Amanda relaxed in relief. The last thing she wanted to deal with was the amorous attention of the tall, sexy Texan. Given how physically attractive she found him, the situation might be just too tempting.
Thinking he was possibly the most easygoing man she had ever met, Amanda drew a deep breath. “Anyway, back to the way the company operates. My grandfather takes the service requests. He makes up the schedule and does all the accounting work required to run the business. The other four employees are all master carpenters, and they work in San Angelo. They all have families, and don’t want to be away for days at a time, so I take the gigs on all the remote locations.”
When he opened his mouth she lifted a staying hand. “Unless you’re not comfortable with that? If that’s the case, I’ll see if one of the guys wants to do it.” She paused again, frowning. “They’d have to commute back and forth, and the two hours’ travel time daily would add significantly to the overall cost and time it will take to complete the job.”
McCabe shook his head, swiftly vetoing that suggestion. “That won’t be necessary,” he reassured her. “You’re here. You should do it.”
Happy that much was settled, Amanda was ready to move on, too. She returned his easy smile. “Then how about you show me everything you want done so I can get started.”
* * *
JUSTIN SPENT THE next half hour showing Amanda the bunkhouse they were converting for the opening of the Laramie Boys Ranch. It would house the first group of eight boys and two house parents. There were cabinets to install in the bathrooms. Trim and doors to put on. Bookshelves and built-in locker-style armoires to be constructed in each of the five bedrooms.
Amanda paused next to the mangled drywall and damaged utility cabinet in the mudroom. She brushed splinters of wood from the plumbing hookup for the washer. “What happened here?”
Motioning for the dogs to stay back, well out of harm’s way, Justin grabbed a trash bag. “I tried to put the cabinet up myself and it fell off the wall, taking the drywall with it.”
Amanda dropped the shards of splintered wood and ripped-up drywall into the bag. Justin knelt to help her gather debris.
“Can you fix it?” He wasn’t used to screwing up. Failing in front of a highly competent woman made it even worse.
“Yes.” Amanda dusted off her hands and took out her measuring tape.
Justin watched as she set down her notebook and measured the damaged back of the cupboard. “No need to order a new cabinet?”
Nodding, she jotted down a set of numbers.
When she had finished looking around, Justin asked, “What’s your best estimate?”
Amanda raked her teeth across her lush lower lip as she consulted the list she had made. “You said you wanted hardwood flooring installed throughout?”
“Except for the bathrooms. Those are going to have ceramic tile.”
“The target date?”
“August first.”
“Which gives us a little under four weeks.” She tilted her head slightly to one side, her hair brushing the curve of her shoulder. “That’s an ambitious schedule.”
“Is it doable?”
“That all depends. Are you willing to have me work weekends and some evenings, too?”
Until more donations or grants came in, things were really
