Maggie Moves On(9)

“Call me Sy, Maggie,” he said, his tone serious, gray eyes locking on hers.

“Can you do this job, Sy?”

“I can make this your dream home.”

“I’m not in the market for a dream home. But what I am after is a dream payday and the satisfaction of bringing this place back to life.”

“What I hear you saying is that there’s a twenty percent chance that you’ll fall in love with this place and your handsome landscaper,” he said.

“Clearly your auditory processing leaves something to be desired,” she shot back. “And I don’t date contractors. So if a dented ego is a deal breaker for you, you might as well get in that pickup and head home.”

“My ego can handle the dents,” he promised. “Think you’d be annoyed if I checked in every once in a while to see if you changed your mind?”

“I won’t change my mind,” she said firmly.

“But it’ll be real fun trying.”

“Wow me with your deeply discounted estimate, and maybe I’ll let you ask me out once a week.”

He grinned. “Deal. What’s the name of your show?”

“Building Dreams with Maggie.”

He nodded in approval. “Nice. I like it. What social media thing is it on?”

Social media thing? “YouTube.”

“Like the letter U?”

“That’s adorable,” she said. “Y-O-U. If you have any six-or seven-year-olds in your life, they can help you find it.”

“I’ll borrow one.”

“Great. Well, Sy, I’ve got a lot of work to do. Do you have what you need to work up an estimate that won’t require mass quantities of alcohol to review?”

“Let me collect my mud-wallowing partner, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

On cue, the dog came bounding around the side of the house. This time he’d managed to roll in whatever muck he found. His beautiful brown brindle was completely obscured under a glossy coat of mud.

“He looks like a swamp monster,” she observed. A very-proud-of-himself swamp monster with a pink tongue lolling in pure doggy delight.

“Don’t you dare do it,” Sy said to the dog. He grabbed Maggie by the shoulders and, before she could decide if she liked it or not, swung her around, putting himself between her and the rampaging mud monster. Crushed up against his chest, Maggie felt the impact.

“Uh. You okay there?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him. Those gray eyes were rolled skyward, as if praying for patience. She wondered if she was about to get a front-row seat to an explosion of temper.

“Kevin,” Sy said on a long-suffering sigh, “you’re officially dead to me.”

She pursed her lips together and tried not to laugh.

“Maggie, I’d like to point out how heroic that was,” he said. “And I feel like that should carry more weight in your hiring decision than the fact that I was stupid enough to bring this pig-dog with me to a job site.”

“So noted,” she said.

He released her and turned just as Kevin the pig-dog bounded up the steps of the porch.

“Kevin, no! Stay!” Silas yelled as the dog eyed the wide-open front door.

Maggie choked down the laugh that bubbled up. The man’s back matched his dog. Slicked and splattered with a mud so dark that she was concerned there was a more sinister ingredient than just dirt.

“If you put one paw inside that house, I won’t take you to doggy daycare this week, and you won’t see your girlfriend, Tabitha,” Sy threatened.

At the mention of Tabitha, Kevin sat.

“Uh, I’d offer you a towel, but I don’t know if I have any yet,” Maggie said.

“Not to worry. Always Prepared is my other middle name,” the muddy landscaper told her. “I’ve got tarps, towels, and a change of clothes in the truck. I’ll just—”

All of Kevin’s fun seemed to catch up with him at once. He opened his cavernous mouth and barfed on the porch.

“Oh, buddy,” Maggie said. “Is he okay?”

In answer, Kevin trotted off the porch, tail wagging, and shoved his head into a shrub.

“He’s fine.” Sy put his hands on his hips and studied his boots for a long moment. “I’ve got a hose in the truck,” he said finally.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She managed to get the words out. Barely. “I’ll just be in there trying not to laugh too loud.”

“Appreciate that,” he said.

“It was, uh…nice to meet you,” she said. “You make quite the impression.” She didn’t make it into the house before the laughter overtook her.

Kevin emerged from the bushes and trotted over to Sy.

“Don’t even try to make up with me,” he told the dog.

Kevin gave a happy bark.

“No. I’m not proud of you,” Sy said, rooting around the bed of his truck and producing a garden hose. “Why would you think I’d be proud of you?”

“What are we watching?” Dean asked, coming up behind Maggie.

“Just a man hosing a half gallon of dog puke off the porch,” she told him.

“Try not to hold it against him. The guy will probably earn you your millionth follower in one episode,” Dean predicted.