They’d had a big storm over the week, Bailey saw. The lot had been cleared but she could see several feet of new powder in the berms lining the walkways.
Kenna Kincaid greeted Bailey and shook her head when Bailey marveled at the new snow.
“Three feet,” Kenna confirmed, sounding annoyed. “And people have come out of the woodwork to ski it this weekend too. Hud and his crew have been working twelve-and fourteen-hour days getting ready. It’s going to be crazy today.”
Bailey hadn’t given much thought to the day-to-day life of those who actually lived here and had to run this place. But if Hud’s phone and radio last weekend had been any indication, he was swamped twenty-four-seven.
Kenna took her to a large storage unit where they had scaffolding stored among other equipment such as a large snow-blower and a snowcat. “Help yourself in here,” Kenna said, and then eyeballed Bailey’s small frame. “You going to need help?”
In truth, Bailey had no idea. She’d never worked on scaffolding before, but she gave her standard statement. “I’ll be fine.”
When Kenna shrugged and left, Bailey went to work. She separated out the steel bars and wood planking and was banging with a hammer on two pieces of steel that were stuck together when the doubts slid into her brain.
What had she been thinking? How did she possibly think she could handle building the scaffolding on her own? Or for that matter, the mural itself? What did she know about painting on such a scale? Panic hit her then, right in the gut, and she sat on the floor and pressed her forehead to her knees.
Don’t worry about staying inside the lines, darling…Bailey could still hear her grandma’s voice, joyful and in high spirits, even though she had already been fighting the cancer that would slowly drain the life out of her. But she’d never lost her positive nature, never.
Don’t worry about whether you can do it, Bailey-Bean. Just pretend you can. Pretend enough and it becomes real.
That was how her grandma had lived her life and it was how Bailey intended to live hers. Her grandma would want this for Bailey, and Bailey wanted it for herself. It was on her list. She wanted to paint a mural big and happy enough that her grandma could see it from whatever cloud she was sitting on, watching from above.
So she went back to hammering the shit out of the steel.
“What the hell?”
She whipped around and found Hud staring at her. He was in ski patrol gear today, looking official.
And officially hot.
She did her best to roll her tongue back into her mouth, and smiled. “Hey.”
“My sister said you were about to be stupid and not admit you needed help.”
“So you came by to get a front-row seat for the stupidity?” she asked.
He smiled. “You’re going to drive people crazy with all the banging.”
Pretend enough and it becomes real.
So Bailey lifted an eyebrow and pretended she was a sexy siren. “Now there’s a complaint I’ve never had before,” she said in her best Marilyn Monroe whisper.
He laughed.
Okay, so maybe she’d have to work on it. “So you, what, drew the short straw to go rescue the stupid chick?”
“No.”
“No?” she asked, a little breathless because he’d come inside the storage unit and had stopped only when they were toe to toe.
“I won you,” he said, his voice whiskey smooth.
Her good parts quivered. “What does that mean?”
“In our offices,” he said, “everything that has to be done each week goes up on a scheduling wall, which inevitably starts a fight over who’s going to do what, so we started a new thing this year. We throw darts for the chores. You were on the board this morning, or the scaffolding was. And you’ll have to trust me on this, moving and building the scaffolding was the easiest thing on that entire wall, which meant we were all fighting for it.” He smiled. “I won you.”
The way he kept saying that had her heart doing a little squishy dance. And there were some other reactions, too, decidedly south of her heart. Had been ever since that kiss…
Was she the only one feeling it? Because that would be embarrassing. She looked down at herself and realized she was wearing approximately twenty layers of clothing to stay warm and that she was also now sweating thanks to the exertion and most likely also Hud’s effortless hotness. She probably looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy.
A melting Pillsbury Doughboy. So much for being a sex siren.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.