Page 87 of Screwed
They sat on a drop cloth on the black-and-white tiled floor. Callie eyed Cash’s faded jeans and T-shirt, hoping he was okay with a little white paint on them, because she was the messiest painter in the history of paint.
“I’m having fun.” Kristy bit into her sandwich. “Oh my God, Cash, you’re a lifesaver. This is so good.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What were you doing this morning?” Callie asked him.
“I was at the office. Beau and I had some work to do on the…on a bid.”
“Oh.”
Callie was aware of Kristy watching her and Cash, taking in the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the looks and smiles they shared as they ate.
“What’s left to do?” he asked.
“We’ve pretty much finished this front area, so the kitchen and office still need to be done. I’m hoping to finish painting this weekend and then get the equipment moved in and shelves set up next week.”
“What are you going to do about help?” Kristy asked. “I mean, once you’re open. You can’t do everything yourself.”
“I need to hire someone part-time to look after customers.” She peeked at Cash. “I actually asked Ginnie if she’d like a job here for the summer. She said yes.”
Cash’s slow smile made her belly flutter. “That is very cool.”
When they’d finished lunch and Kristy went to move the ladder into the back rooms, Cash stepped in and took it from her. “I’ll do this.”
Kristy flashed Callie a thumbs-up, and Callie grinned.
Soon after, Kristy had to leave and Cash took over, painting way faster and more efficiently than Kristy had. They worked together companionably, sharing stories and memories. Cash talked about some of his business worries because of the hit the economy was taking due to oil prices.
They were standing side by side as he poured paint into Callie’s tray, her hand resting on his back, when a male voice spoke behind them. They both whipped around, Cash nearly pouring paint all over the floor.
Beau stood there gaping at them. “What the hell is going on here?”
Chapter Nineteen
Cash steadied himself with a hand on the wall and met Beau’s eyes. Guilt smacked him in the face. “Hey, Beau. What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What areyoudoing here?”
“Painting, obviously.” He kept his tone light despite the emotion brewing in his stomach and his muscles twitching. “You here to help?”
“Uh…”
“Whatareyou doing here, Beau?” Callie asked.
“Your parents told me about your shop. I had to see for myself. What the hell are you doing, Callie?”
Christ. Beau was still sucking up to Callie’s family.
She sighed. “We’ve already had this conversation. This isn’t your business.”
“Your parents are concerned.”
“Then they should come see the place themselves. And what are they concerned about? Oh right. They’re concerned I’m embarrassing them by ‘catering’ for people.”
Beau cast his gaze around, not denying that. Asshole. “You’re not a businessperson.”
Cash’s nostrils flared. He planted his feet wide, every muscle bunched as he gripped the paintbrush he held. “She’s got a solid plan.” He despised the way Beau was talking to Callie, but what the fuck could he say about it without giving themselves away?
