“Not even one.”
Nevada spoke as firmly as a nearly drunk person could. The good news was, she was pretty sure she wasn’t even lying.
CHAPTER TWO
TUCKER HAD NEVER THOUGHT much about small-town America. Mostly his work took him to remote places, where they had to create their own infrastructure to get the job done, or to urban areas, often those that were crumbling. He wasn’t used to cheerful storefronts and friendly people strolling along clean sidewalks. In the ten minutes it had taken him to get from his hotel to the center of town, he’d been greeted multiple times, told to have a good day, asked if the weather could be any better and nuzzled by a tiny toy poodle in a pink sweater.
He’d been to Fool’s Gold before, back when he was about sixteen. Tucker’s mom had died when he was pretty little, so his dad had taken him along on construction jobs. He’d grown up all over the world, getting his education through local classes and tutors. His dad had worried that he wasn’t socializing enough with kids his own age, so every summer Tucker was sent to a different camp in the States. One year it was space camp, another had been a drama camp. The year he’d turned sixteen, his father sent him to a cycling camp, where he met Ethan Hendrix and Josh Golden.
The three of them had hung out all summer. Josh and Ethan had both been serious about cycling. Josh had gone on to make a career of it. Tucker had gone into the family business, and went where the next big project was. Ethan had stayed in Fool’s Gold.
Tucker crossed a narrow street and saw the sign for Hendrix Construction. Back in high school, Ethan had planned to go to college, then get the hell out of Fool’s Gold. He and Tucker had talked about Ethan coming to work for Janack Construction. They’d daydreamed about a dam they’d build in South America or a bridge in India. Instead, Ethan’s father had died, leaving Ethan responsible for running the family business. As the oldest of six kids, with a heartbroken mother, Ethan hadn’t had a whole lot of choices.
Tucker opened the door to the construction office and smiled at the receptionist sitting behind the desk. “I’d like to see Nevada, please.”
He’d arrived early enough in the morning to catch her before she headed to a job site, but still expected to be asked if he had an appointment. Instead, the receptionist pointed toward a door at the rear of the big room.
“She’s in her office.”
“Thanks.”
He circled around a couple of empty desks and knocked on the open door.
Nevada stood with her back to him, pulling out a file drawer. In the second it took her to turn, he saw she wore jeans and a T-shirt instead of the trousers and blazer from the day before. Heavy work boots added a couple of inches of height, bringing her closer to his eye level. She was tall and lean, with curves in all the right places.
Attractive, he thought absently. Sexy. And she’d probably been back in college. Not that he would have noticed. Being around Cat had been like looking at the sun—he couldn’t see anything else. Life would have been a whole lot easier if he’d fallen for someone normal like Nevada instead of Cat.
As Nevada spun to face him, he noticed she wasn’t wearing much in the way of makeup and her face was pale.
“Good morning.”
She blinked at him. “Maybe for you.”
Her eyes were red and looked a little puffy. Judging by the shadows underneath, he guessed she’d had a difficult night.
“Hangover?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Had she been out drinking because of him? Well, them. He hoped he was the cause of her morning pain. If only for proof that their meeting had affected her as much as it had affected him.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” she told him.
“Why?”
“You’re looking smug. It’s annoying. In fact, you should go away. Why are you here, anyway? Are you looking for Ethan?”
“I’m looking for you.”
She touched her forehead, as if trying to rub away pain. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Sure you can.”
Despite the dark circles and her pallor, she was still appealing. He liked Nevada in jeans and a T-shirt, rather than dressed for an interview. These clothes were more like the woman he remembered.
“I want a do-over,” he told her. “The interview,” he added, just in case she thought he was talking about sex. Not that he would say no to a chance to prove himself.
“I have nothing left to say to you. You have my résumé. That’s enough.”
“You’re right. It is. I want to hire you as a construction manager.”
“Go to hell.”
“Is that an ‘I’ll think about it’?”
“It’s a go to hell. I’m not interested in being played.”
“Why would you think I’m playing you?”