“Fuck off.” He shoves me aside before taking the empty seat across from my desk.
I drop into the rolling chair on the other side. “I never thought I’d see the day you came to your senses.”
“Only because you’ve never been able to pull one of these off without me.”
I better enjoy Rafa’s playfulness while it lasts and make this prank worthy of his efforts.
With a quick pass over my keyboard, I unlock my computer screen and turn it toward him. “So, here’s the plan…”
After spending the last few days rescheduling my meetings and finalizing my new schedule with Sam, I can finally start working part-time at the Founder’s house.
The makeshift tent in the backyard is set up with all the tools I need for a project of this magnitude, which makes the process of returning to carpentry easier. I’m not sure I would have been able to follow through with the task if I had to work in my father’s old woodshop.
One step at a time.
I fight the ache in my bones as I cover my eyes, nose, and mouth with protective gear. The smell of fresh wood chips and the sound of my tool scraping across the wooden post fill the air as I start working on the first baluster.
It takes me longer than it should, with me being out of practice, but the skills I acquired over the years come back to me.
Remember why you’re doing this in the first place, I chide myself when I get frustrated at making a mistake. I toss the wooden post into a pile and grab a fresh one.
This is for you, I tell myself as I start all over again.
It takes me two more tries to perfect the design. “One down, a few hundred more to go.” I blow on the post and twirl it in a circle, cataloging every single detail.
My good mood is quickly destroyed when my phone buzzes with new text messages from Sam.
SAM
Issues with Lake Aurora project. Call Mario ASAP.
SAM
Also, design team wants to meet about the townhouses tomorrow. Something came up that they need to run by you.
SAM
Flooring for the cul-de-sac is delayed.
Should get here in a few weeks.
Balancing my office schedule with the carpentry tasks Dahlia planned is going to be difficult. I haven’t been at the Founder’s house for more than an hour and Sam is already blowing up my phone.
I rip my protective mask off, place my phone on the worktable, and grab a hammer.
So freaking tempting.
“Whoa. Put down the weapon and step away from the phone.” The tent flaps slap shut behind Dahlia.
I drop the hammer on the table. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“So you weren’t about to destroy your phone?”
I glance at her left arm. “You finally got your cast removed.”
“Smooth change of subject.”
I stay quiet.
She reaches for one of the wooden posts and assesses it from every angle. “This is…beautiful.”
“You think so?” I stumble over the words, sounding pathetic to my own ears.
“Your dad would be so incredibly proud of you.”
I choke on the ball of emotion building in my throat. “It’s nowhere near perfect.”
“You’re right. It’s far above.”
A surge of pride floods my system as she places the post back on the table.
My phone buzzes again, and my head drops back with a sigh.
“So, what’s going on?” She drags a stool out from underneath the worktable and takes a seat.
My eye twitches. “Having a few issues with scheduling.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“Not really.”
Her gaze narrows. “Are you saying that because you don’t want to ask for help?”
“I’m saying that because no one can do what I do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Meet with teams, realtors, and committees each week. Discuss plans and permits and all that boring stuff.”
“No offense, but that’s not exactly rocket science or anything.”
I tuck my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “No, but it is time-consuming.”
“Have you considered hiring someone to split your responsibilities?”
So many times I’ve lost count. “Yes.”
“And?”
“I haven’t found the right person for the job.”
“Have you searched hard enough?”
I go completely still.
She glances up from the wood piece she was focused on. “You have a good team. I’m sure one of them would be more than happy to help take the load off.”
“I know.” I’m lucky to have people I can trust working for me, and I pay them accordingly, but that doesn’t mean any of them are ready for the responsibilities my job entails.
I place the baluster on top of the table and grab another unfinished piece of wood.
Dahlia leans against the worktable. “You know, if you needed a little break, I’d be happy to help you with some of the meetings.”
“You would?”
Her shoulders hike. “Sure. I’ve worked with plenty of design teams and general contractors throughout the years.”
“I don’t know…”
“Think about it. While the Founder’s house has been a welcome creative challenge, I’m used to juggling eight different houses and a hectic filming schedule.”
“Don’t tell me you’re bored.”
“Well, that and underutilized.” She grabs a two-by-two from my pile and fidgets with it. “Your design style isn’t my favorite, but I can put my personal views aside if it means having your full and undivided attention with the Founder’s house.”
“I’d much rather have your full and undivided attention on other pressing matters.” My devious smile makes her scowl.
“I’m being serious, but if you don’t want my help, then that’s fine.”
Her comment sobers me. “You want to help me? Really?”
“Sure. At least until the New Year.”
The knot in my stomach tightens. “You still plan on leaving so soon?”
“Without a busy filming schedule, I can finally tackle Design by Dahlia’s mile-long waitlist. Some of those clients have been waiting over two years for my services.”
“You can’t design their houses from here?” The question slips out.
“Uhh…I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought.”
That’s not a no, so I’ll take it. Dahlia needs a special kind of challenge, and it’s up to me to figure out what.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dahlia
After spending the last five minutes questioning my sanity, I grab Julian and bring him into the house.
“What are we—”
“Shh!” I whisper.
Julian wipes his forehead with the bottom of his T-shirt, giving me a glimpse of his abs.
A low rumble akin to furniture being dragged across the floor has the hairs on my arms rising. “That! Did you hear it?”
“It’s probably Ryder upstairs drilling something.”
My eyes widen. “That’s not possible. Ryder and the rest of the team left an hour ago.”
Usually, I would also have headed out, but I didn’t want to ditch Julian, so I stuck around and took advantage of my newly healed left arm. Without the cast, I’m able to work throughout the house on little projects, like paint swatches, testing wallpaper samples, and obsessing over whether or not I should picture-frame mold half the house.
Another scraping noise has me stepping closer to Julian. “I know you heard that one.”
“Are you sure Ryder left?” he asks.