Crazy about Cameron: The Winslow Brothers #3(13)

“What’s the solution?”

Geraldo rubbed his small, cropped black beard. “Might be able to cut and repair, but most likely I’ll have to take down the old ceiling and install drywall to accommodate the fixtures.”

“Doesn’t sound too terrible.”

“It’ll be noisy for the upstairs neighbor,” said Geraldo.

Cameron shrugged. “Well, the upstairs neighbor is me, so I give you permission to do whatever needs to be—”

“Oh, you’re not her—”

“Excuse me, boys,” said Margaret, commanding their attention, hands on her slim hips, a no-nonsense glare in her eyes. “But since this is my apartment and my project, perhaps I could be included in the conversation.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Geraldo, nodding at her. “I just thought you was his Jeina.”

Margaret raised her eyebrows.

“I thought you was together. Like he was calling the shots.”

She scoffed. “No, and no. I’m calling the shots. He’ll show you what he needs done upstairs in his apartment once we’re finished here. Which we are . . . as long as you’re free to handle the work on weekends only. Do you have any questions?”

“No, mami. I got it. Weekends is fine. I can do it for you, as long as he don’t mind me needing to dig around in his floors a little.”

“Her name is Miss Story,” said Cameron from behind him, “and if you need to dig a little, we’ll work it out.”

Geraldo turned slowly and grinned at Cameron, and Cameron couldn’t decide if he liked the younger man or not. He wasn’t opposed to a little swagger in a twenty-something kid, as long as he was capable, smart, and respectful. Capable, he believed based on Diego’s recommendation. Smart, he was fairly certain based on his knowledge and the sharp look in his eyes. Respectful? All signs pointed to hell, no.

“Weekends is good for me,” said Geraldo, turning back to Margaret. “I’ll get started on the rip-out next Saturday. That work for you?”

She nodded. “Yes, thanks. And your fees?”

“Five hundred up front for expenses, twenty an hour after that. I’ll bring you receipts for stuff I buy. I work mostly alone except for my family. And I prefer cash.”

“That’s fine,” she said. Her voice lowered to a strict librarian no-nonsense warning: “Now, Geraldo, I won’t be here on the weekends while you’re here working, but your cousin vouched for you.”

“You don’t need to worry, mami . . . Miss Story. I’ll treat your place like it’s mine.”

“And we’ll swap cell numbers so you can call me should you have any questions. Shall I give you a key?”

He thought this over for a second, flashing a quick glance at Cameron. “Nah. Keep your key. I need to get in, Diego will let me up.”

Reassured, a lovely smile broke out on Margaret’s face as she extended her hand. “Then we have a deal. I’ll leave the money on the counter for you next Saturday morning.”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

She dropped Geraldo’s hand and looked up at Cameron, as though uncertain about what should happen next.

Cameron cleared his throat. “I have a project upstairs, but I’d only want work done during the week. Interested? It’s a bathroom.”

“I’ll take a look, but I’ll probably ask my brother, Huicho, if he wants the job. I ain’t as good with pipes.”

“Fine.” Cameron cast a glance at Margaret before looking back at Geraldo. “Can you wait for me in the hall for a second?”

“Yeah. I’ll be talking to you, Miss Story.”

“Thanks so much, Geraldo,” she said, handing him a slip of paper with her cell phone number and waving goodbye to him.

Cameron watched him saunter out of the kitchen and waited until he heard the front door close before turning to face Margaret.

She took a deep breath and sighed, smiling at him. “He seems capable.”

“A little too cocky for his own good.”

“He’s young.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And anyway, finding another building-approved contractor would be a chore. He knows Diego, he can come and go easily, and it sounds like his family can help him with any details that need a second set of hands.”

All true. And yet Cameron still felt unsettled about having Geraldo in Margaret’s space. He couldn’t explain why—call it a gut instinct, perhaps one he’d have about any man other than himself so close to her. Which led his thoughts directly to Shane Olson.

Olson, the lucky bastard who could listen to her murmur herbs and oak all day long if he wanted to, who could see what was beneath her sweater dress, touch her perfect little breasts, sucking a pebbled nipple between his f*cking lips as she—

“Cameron?”

He gulped. “So I guess you spend your weekends with Olson?”

“What?” She stared at him for a moment, then laughed softly. “Oh! I didn’t know who you were talking about for a moment there. Do you mean Shane?”

Cameron nodded tightly.

She shook her head, placing her hand on the kitchen counter as she faced him. “We’re not quite that exclusive yet.”

This was news.