Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(2)

I stop on the edge of the patio and raise my chin toward the sun. “I really do have somewhere to be.”

“She can wait.”

“It’s not a ‘she.’”

“Sure it isn’t.”

Lowering my eyes to his, I grin. “While I really love the fact that you think I have chicks lined up at nine in the morning, it’s not a ‘she.’ For real. The only thing on my to-do list today is getting a haircut at Harper’s.”

“Fine. Whatever you say. I’ll talk fast.”

“You do that,” I say, letting the toes of my boots hang off the edge of the concrete.

Dane looks at me with a seriousness that tells me this won’t be fun, and it won’t be quick. He winces. “Meredith Kelly is—”

“Oh no.” My head swings back and forth. “I’m out.”

“Penn . . .”

I look at him with all the gravity I can muster. “The woman is nuts.”

“She’s not nuts.”

I slow blink. “She has a spa for her dogs.”

“So, she’s . . . eccentric,” he says, waving a hand in the air like that dissolves my point. “That doesn’t mean she’s nuts.”

“I don’t know what ‘eccentric’ means, but if it doesn’t mean ‘crazy,’ you’re wrong.” With another shake of my head, I start down the sidewalk.

Memories of building Meredith Kelly’s house—reading her instructions on paper that smelled like flowers and changing the shade of pink in various rooms time and time again—filter through my mind. She was as sweet as her perfume and would send us cookies from some ritzy bakery in Nashville, but still. If Dane thinks I want to voluntarily sign up to do anything else for this woman, he’s lost his mind.

If she were single, that would be another story. But she’s very much married. So I’m very much out.

“It’s a kids’ camp thing,” he says, stumbling over the words.

“Oh, a ‘kids’ camp thing.’ I know exactly what that means.”

I stop and stretch my arms over my head. I yawn for good measure. Maybe Dane will take pity on me and let whatever this is go.

He frowns.

Maybe not.

“I know Meredith is quirky, which is what ‘eccentric’ means,” he says like I’d care. “But she’s also got a really good heart and a lot of money.”

“Good for her. I don’t have either.”

Dane’s laugh barrels through the air. “You do too. The heart, that is. You have the financial sense of a monkey.”

“Don’t tell anyone that, will ya?”

“What? That you can’t manage money?”

“No,” I say, making a sour face. “Everyone knows that. Don’t go spreading around that I’m a nice guy. It’ll give people expectations and shit.”

He tries not to smile. “Fine. Now, back to the issue at hand—”

“I don’t even like kids,” I whine. “They’re loud and they don’t listen and they fuck shit up. Your kid is the only one I can tolerate . . .”

Shit. Dane’s eyes light up at the opening I just handed him on a silver platter.

“And if you don’t help me here,” he says like I’m a child, “I won’t be able to take my sweet little Mia to the land of giant mice and princesses. Think how disappointed she’ll be if I have to tell her that her buddy Penn won’t help me out and is ruining her vacation.”

“Low blow, Dane. Low blow.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

I stick out my bottom lip. “I don’t want to. I’m supposed to be on vacation too. Doesn’t anyone care about me?”

My play for sympathy falls on deaf ears. Instead of capitulating, he shifts his weight and digs in for the kill.

“This is going to get a ton of press, and we’ll get paid without having to chase anyone down.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a deep breath. “The Kellys are going to be investing thousands of dollars in Dogwood Lane, Penn. We have a great opportunity here to secure a lot of work. They already trust us. We know they’re going to pay well. And to be honest, we need to bank the money now so when winter comes and the projects slow down . . .”

I toe a rock with my boot and try to hold my ground. But as he continues to stand next to me, I feel myself start to give in.

Winters are hard on construction guys like us. The work slows, but bills still have to be paid. It’s not that bad for me or Matt, because we’re bachelors with basic rent and truck payments. For Dane, the guy with a family to take care of, it’s worse.

I sigh. “Why can’t Matt do it? Isn’t he required by blood to be your right-hand man?”

“He would, but the doctor hasn’t released him yet. He’s got another week or something.”

“He fell off a ladder,” I deadpan.

“Until you get your MD and release him to work, there’s not a lot I can do about it.” Dane blows out a breath. The lines around his eyes gather, the stress of potentially having to turn this job down evident on his face. “It’s just a week—two, tops. Basic framing and layout work at this point. If Mia didn’t have her heart set on this trip, I’d do it myself. But I can’t break her heart.”