what’s up?” he asked with his usual lack of charm. No, not usual; it was only usual since the accident that had ended his major-league baseball career.
“Are you free to join a construction crew next week?”
“I suppose, but I might have to work a half day to clean out my classroom.”
“Did you have a good year?” she asked.
“Same as always, I guess. There’s nothing new or exciting about teaching.”
That annoyed her. Teaching was a wonderful career. Kids were important and a teacher could make a huge difference in their lives. So what if a teacher didn’t get cheered the way Mike “Lightning” Carlisle had been cheered by his fans?
“How did your students do this year?” she asked, trying to be tactful.
“They passed their finals, so presumably they did all right. Where do you need me next week?”
With a silent sigh, Alaina gave him the address and reminded him to pick up a time card.
Resisting the urge to slam the receiver down, she sat back in her chair and decided to sulk for an entire five minutes. She only allowed herself one sulk-fest a day, being a woman who preferred action over just sitting.
Drat Mike, anyway.
As if she cared that he had a limp and never became known as the fastest base runner in major-league history. She’d been wild about him ever since she was a flat-chested, awkward kid and he was the star player on the school baseball team. The future looked bright for Mike—first he’d scored an athletic scholarship, followed by a major team recruiting him when he graduated from college.
Mike had really been going places. He was traded to another team for his contract two years later and adoring fans had called him Lightning Carlisle, the same nickname he’d earned in Schuyler. Then came that awful day when he’d dived into the stands to catch a fly ball...and never played again. After three knee operations he still limped, but the worst part was seeing how much he’d changed in other ways—he rarely smiled any longer and was as much a loner as Trent.
Alaina tossed her pencil onto the desk. She might as well admit that Mike was acting like a grizzly bear with a mountain-size chip on its shoulder. But that hadn’t kept her from moving back to Montana, hoping he might finally notice her...and feeling utterly stupid for doing something so ridiculous.
And, so far, zilch.
Damn it.
Of course, she could always return to New York. She was still doing freelance work for her company and they kept saying they wanted her back full-time. But she wasn’t going to give up on Mike. There had to be a way to crack his shell.
She looked through the estimate again on Emily’s house and dialed her cell number.
“Hi, Emily, it’s Alaina Hawkins at Big Sky Construction.”
“Don’t tell me, you aren’t coming on Monday after all.” Emily’s dismay was apparent, even over the phone.
“Not at all, you’re still scheduled,” Alaina said hastily. “How did you know a crew was coming?”
“I ran into Trent on my way out.”
“Oh. Well, I’m still figuring out who will be assigned to work on your house, but in the meantime I wanted you to know a chemical toilet will be delivered for the crew.”
“Ick. There’s a small half bath off the kitchen that they could use instead.”
“Okay, but I’ll tell them to clean it every day and provide their own soap and stuff. Personally, I wouldn’t touch a toilet used by construction workers—their aim is terrible. I make the guys working in the construction yard use one in a separate building.”
Emily laughed. “I’ll let you know if it gets too bad. Anything else?”
Alaina checked the notes she’d made when writing up the contract. “I’m also ordering a large Dumpster. Is there space in the yard where it can go?”
“There’s room in the front or on the driveway. It’s wide and I can always park somewhere else if necessary.”
They finished their call and Alaina went back to thinking about ways to catch Mike’s attention. You’d think in such a small town they’d run into each other more. Nevertheless, she was determined to come up with a workable plan, which shouldn’t be impossible for a woman who’d earned an MBA.
But she had an idea. Mike would be a great addition to the annual auction for a “dinner with a bachelor or bachelorette.”
She planned on making sure she was the committee member who approached him...and still needed to figure out the right way to ask. Everyone knew where he lived and it shouldn’t be difficult to come up with excuses to visit the Meadowlark Lane job site, either. He couldn’t duck her that easily at work, and any contact with him would be better than nothing. Besides, she wanted to visit the house and see if it jogged any memories.
Pleased with her new plan, Alaina grabbed her pencil again and returned to the scheduling chart.
Okay, she’d put Mike on the crew, along with Eduardo, Vince and Caveman...she erased Caveman and wrote Chuck. Chuck was a caveman, but her brother didn’t think it looked professional to have nicknames on the official schedule. With those guys and Trent, they’d be able to handle the range of work required. Emily needed everything from a new roof to all-new plumbing, along with a restoration specialist to help preserve the historic character of the classic Arts and Crafts–style architecture.
Oh.
Alaina blinked. Perhaps that was why Trent had decided to be the foreman...he was an expert at restoration. But it was still strange that he was moving so fast on the job. As for taking the lead? He’d made it sound as if he did nothing except push paper. Hardly. Maybe he didn’t wield tools all day, every day, but did go out and work alongside everyone else when needed.
With any other guy, Alaina might have thought he wanted to impress the client, but Emily wasn’t Trent’s type—he went for flashy women who were okay with short-term affairs, the same as her brother Josh. Her other brother, Jackson, had been the same...until he’d met an old flame from high school and got knocked on his ass. Kayla had been good for Jackson, but Alaina didn’t expect Josh or Trent to change—lightning didn’t strike that often.
Perhaps Trent was handing the job this way simply because it was their childhood home and he wanted to be there to fix it up. Well...it would be nice to think so, but that didn’t sound like him, either.
* * *
EMILY BOUGHT GROCERIES, then couldn’t resist stopping at the hardware store to look at paint samples. She had always loved the paint department at home improvement centers...the rows and rows of swatches ranging from light to dark. You could practically get drunk on all the color. And she could pick anything she wanted. One of the hard parts of selecting stock for her boutique was restricting her choices to the “fashionable” colors for that season.
“Shopping for paint again?” asked a pleasant voice.
Turning, Emily saw the woman who’d
