Hidden Summit (Virgin River #17)(15)

Leslie had worked around construction workers for the past ten years, and, while they came in all shapes and sizes, there was something about Conner that gave her shivers. She couldn’t put her finger on it. It might be the way he couldn’t seem to lie or cover up; what passed through his brain shot out of his mouth. He thought she was doing the boss and couldn’t just act as if he didn’t notice? She’d been watching him around the job; she couldn’t help it. He would be almost somber until something amused him, and then his face lit up—same reaction, his feelings kind of bubbled to the surface. He couldn’t seem to hide his stunned amusement that a guy would divorce, remarry, knock up his new wife and expect the ex-wife to be okay with it all. What balls. Very straightforward. Uncomplicated. Yes, that was it—he seemed uncomplicated. After Greg, that was so inviting.

Oh, man, the last thing she needed was to get attracted to some construction worker who was temporary at best.

Then her eyes widened. Maybe the best thing in the world would be a temporary construction worker. No expectations. No disappointments. No one to get in the way of her mission to rebuild her confidence and self-esteem.

Conner followed Leslie at a distance so as not to blind her with the headlights of his truck in her rearview mirror. And he thought—boy, was she pissed. That was probably a good thing because he should really get over it, the attraction. He’d been warned by Brie, no relationships during this hiatus.

But the more sense he talked into himself, the more he wanted to get closer to that tough, hardheaded broad. The more he wanted her, in every physical way. Stupid idea. His life was just too complicated.

Four

Despite his caution, Conner caught a few minutes with Leslie every day that next week. And she grew more agreeable around him until finally she smiled at him and that caution melted like butter in the hot sun. He was back in her good graces.

With that awareness, he agreed quickly when, at the end of the week, Dan said, “Come on, let’s head for the office. Les made cookies. Bring your lunch.”

“Sounds good,” he said.

When they got inside, Dan put his plastic lunch bucket on the table and immediately headed down the hall to the office Leslie used. She followed him back out to the kitchen.

“Hi, Conner,” she said.

“Leslie,” he said with a nod.

She pulled a canvas tote out of the refrigerator and began to empty the contents onto the table—a half sandwich, an apple, a yogurt, a container of green tea. “How’s it going over there?” she asked, tilting her head in the direction of the two houses they’d been working on.

“We’re finishing up bathrooms this week,” Dan said. “We might take a couple of days next week, but that shouldn’t hold up work on the exterior. Paul mentioned a remodel in Redway that he wants to tackle next. What did he say to you?” Dan asked.

“He said we’re moving the trailer pretty soon. He’s got a sixty-five-hundred-square-foot custom home northeast of Virgin River ready to pour.”

Conner knew what that meant. It would be a long time before he’d be working on the interior of that custom job. Probably months. He might even be back in Sacramento to testify before it came time to do the custom house on the same property as the trailer. He wouldn’t be running into Leslie unless he drove to wherever that trailer was located to pick up his check. Even that wasn’t necessary. Paul would readily bring paychecks to Jack’s.

“Things have really improved since you’ve been here, Les,” Dan said, nodding at the big plate of cookies covered with Saran on the plywood table.

“I know,” she agreed. “Cookies and moderate cleanliness.”

“And paperwork on time, like estimates and contracts. I’m so damn glad Paul finally got around to hiring full-time office help.”

“It’s nice to work with Paul again. Even for a little while.”

“A little while?” Dan asked.

She ripped open her yogurt. “I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m leaving tomorrow. It’s just that my parents are in their late sixties and one of these days… Maybe I should say one of these years they’re going to need me. Right now they’re in great health, never slow down for a second, and Grants Pass isn’t very far away so we can visit each other frequently. But they’re sixty-eight, I’m their only child, I assume I’ll have to return to Oregon.”

“What’s your best guess?” Conner blurted out. “Months or years?”

“I promised Paul six months, maybe more,” she said. “Unless there’s an emergency back home, of course. And…excepting emergencies…I’m not going to leave him high and dry. Vanessa would kill me.”

Conner flashed his dimple in a smile, but he looked down at his sandwich. That gave him something to work with. Yes, sir.

Six months. He was a patient man. Most of the time.

“Didn’t I hear you’re planning a wedding?” she asked Dan.

“Not exactly. What we’re planning is a marriage. Cheryl and I have been together a couple of years, this past year dedicated to finishing our house together with a little help from friends. We’re in now, though still finishing things, and should be done by June. Then Cheryl wants a nice, quiet, private ceremony while we’re on our way up to the San Juan Islands for some serious fishing.” He laughed. “Gotta love a woman like Cheryl. She’s not only pretty and practical, she’s more fun than I deserve.”