Hidden Summit (Virgin River #17)(9)

“Thanks,” she said, handing it to him. “So, did Paul say what he’d like me to do?”

Dan gave the cup back, refreshed. “He said you’d know what to do. He carries his laptop around in the truck with him, but there’s a paper schedule on his desk. I’m waiting for a crew to work on interiors on these two houses and Paul will get here when he gets here. Will you be all right if I get to work?”

“You bet. Don’t worry about me.”

He smiled at her. “Welcome aboard, Leslie. We’ll all be happy if Paul has a little help organizing the paperwork.”

“Gets a little behind on that, does he?” she asked on a laugh.

“He’s a builder,” Dan said with a grin. “It’s hard to keep him in the office. I’ll be in the house on the left, if you need me.”

“Not to worry. I’m going to poke around Paul’s desk and see if I can make sense of anything.”

“Go for it,” Dan said with a salute.

Leslie took her time looking around after Dan left. She didn’t concentrate on Paul’s desk or even on his office—there was plenty of time for that. She opened every cupboard and closet in the trailer before she attempted Paul’s desk. And it happened spontaneously—she wiped out the sink, which led to scrubbing the countertop, which led to first sweeping, then mopping the kitchen floor. She filled the sink with soapy water, and, with rag or mop in hand, she moved through the place with a vengeance.

By the time Paul showed up at around ten, the muddy tracks and finger smears had disappeared. Even the stainless-steel thirty-cup coffeemaker was shining. And the coffee in it was fresh. “Whoa,” he said.

She straightened her spine and blew a curl of hair off her forehead. “Prepare your crews for intensive training—they’re going to learn to keep things clean around here.”

“Oh, they know how,” he said. “When we turn over a house, you could eat off the floor....”

“Yeah? Really?” she asked. “Because if you ate off that bathroom floor, you’d be dead in ten seconds. I’m not cleaning it. It’s vile. The next man who comes in here with a need for it is getting the job. And then they’re going to keep it clean because I can’t even think about putting my—” she cleared her throat in lieu of a key word and added “—on it.”

The door opened and a man looked in with blue eyes that almost knocked her out. “Oh. Excuse me. I should’ve knocked....”

Paul laughed and kind of rocked back on his heels. “Not a problem, come on in. The new secretary was instructing me in keeping a clean shop.”

“New?” he asked.

Paul didn’t respond to the question but stuck out a hand. “Paul Haggerty. How can I help you?”

“Conner Danson,” he said, accepting the handshake. “A friend of mine said you might have some work....”

“Would that be Brie?” he asked.

“That’s her. Old friend of mine. My last boss shut down....”

“She said something about that. And you’re friends from college?”

Conner smiled. “I took a few classes after high school, but I’m not a college man. I quit, joined the army for a couple of years, then apprenticed with a carpenter. Custom kitchens and bathrooms.”

Paul gestured to an album Conner held under one arm. “I bet you have some sample photos I can look at.”

“You bet,” he said, handing over the album.

Paul opened it and began leafing through the photos, Leslie looking over his shoulder. She kept glancing up at Conner—short brown hair, tanned face, thick eyelashes, goatee…very handsome. She’d like another look at his eyes; the blue was almost shocking.

“Wow,” she said of the pictures. “Very nice work. And you say your boss shut down?”

“Not a great time for custom builders right now.”

“This work is so pretty,” she said. “Did you give any thought to going out on your own?”

“Lots of carpenters and refinishers out of work right now,” he said with a shrug. “I contacted everyone I knew and Brie said…” He didn’t finish but let it hang in the air.

“I have one good interiors man, my foreman. He’s a good leader and can usually handpick crew to work with him, but I bet he’d be happy to have some talent like this to partner up with.” Paul closed the album and handed it back. “I have enough contracts for custom buildings and remodels to employ you for as long as six months, but I can’t guarantee any more than that.”

“I’ll start with that,” Conner said.

“Thing is, this is the kind of stuff I like to do,” Paul said. “But if I spend too much time on the detail work the big picture gets shortchanged.”

“I’d be happy to watch your details,” Conner said. “Besides, I don’t know if I’ll take to this place for the long-term. I’m a city boy. More or less.”

“From?”

Conner answered according to his new bio. “Colorado Springs. If you don’t mind me asking, how is it you have enough work to take on one more hire in a little place like this?”

“A combination of things,” Paul said. “This place was a little light on general contractors when I first got here—not a lot of competition. And, because of the kind of place it is, beautiful and with a distinct shortage of industry, the only people who move here come because they can. Take my father-in-law, retired general—he found this place because it was perfect for hunting and keeping his horses. His lady friend is a semiretired actress—also loves hunting and has dogs and horses. Then there’s Jack of Jack’s Bar—not so rich and important, but a hardworking man, a retired marine who saved a couple of bucks and wanted to build his wife a nice house to raise their family.... You get the idea. People are here on purpose. And they tend to build or remodel the homes they’ll have forever, homes they’ll leave their children.... I love making homes for generations. My dad taught me that.”