His First and Last (Ardent Springs #1) (16 page)

“And that’s the last of them,” Mike said, sliding the final payroll check her way. Lorelei had been dropping the checks into window envelopes as he signed them. As of this, her third day on the job, she had yet to encounter anyone else who worked for Lowry Construction, but Mike assured her they’d all be in around lunchtime to pick up their paychecks.

“Do I need to verify IDs?” she asked. “Make sure they are who they say they are and I don’t give a paycheck to the wrong person?”

Boss Man, as Lorelei had begun calling him, scratched his chin. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but if it makes you feel better, you can have them sign something when they take the check.”

“Sign something?”

“Sure. Create a log and have them sign next to their name.”

Had to love how he assumed she could create a log out of thin air. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Mike shot her a smile as he picked up his cowboy hat from the shelf behind his desk. “Your enthusiasm is one of the things I like best about you, Lorelei.”

Sarcasm. How cute.

“I bet it’s tough to fit a hard hat over that cowboy number,” she said, flashing her boss an unrepentant smile as she ripped a piece of Scotch tape without looking. The fact that she could poke him a bit made Mike one of the cooler bosses she’d ever had. Once Lorelei figured out that she amused him and that he could take a joke, their encounters had become more fun.

“That’s why I had one specially made,” he said, circling his desk, then perching on the front corner. “Cost a pretty penny but worth it to protect the Resistol.”

“Resistol?” Lorelei asked. “What is that?”

“Only the finest brand of cowboy hat you can buy.” Mike flipped the black felt with two fingers, making it land atop his head. “George Strait wears Resistol hats.”

Lorelei remembered what Spencer had said about Mike trying his luck at stardom down in Nashville. Which meant they had more in common than both having ties to her mother.

“Did you ever meet him?” she asked, truly curious.

“Who, George?” Mike shook his head. “I had one of those ‘friend of a friend knew a merch guy’ connections, but it never panned out.”

“Then it must be true what they say about LA and Nashville being so alike. What’s the lyric?” Lorelei searched her memory banks for the song she was thinking of. “Something about LA being Nashville with a tan.”

A grin split her boss’s face. “Sounds about right.”

“I forgot to tell you that Becky Winkle showed up here on Monday looking for you.” Twisting a rubber band around the paychecks, she added, “She was quite put out when I refused to tell her where you were.”

“I appreciate that.” Mike’s cowboy hat rose as he scratched his head beneath it, the silver hair at his temples catching the light. “She’s been after me for months. I keep telling her I’m too old, but the girl is determined and I have no idea why.”

Lorelei considered her employer. He had probably qualified as hot in his younger days. Which made her wonder if, back in the day, her mother had ever chased Mike the way Becky was chasing him now. In fact, was Mike’s connection to her mother what had Granny so against him? Maybe Mike had broken her mother’s heart and Granny never forgave him. She was tempted to ask, but the question seemed a little too personal.

“You’re an up-and-coming businessman in the community,” Lorelei explained. “Becky was always a social climber. So now she wants to climb you.”

He gave her a stern look. “There will be no climbing of me by Becky Winkle, social or otherwise.”

“Good to know,” Lorelei said with a nod. If Mike had been interested in the hateful blonde, her respect for him would have taken a major hit.

With a glance at his watch, Mike said, “I’ll need to leave for my eleven o’clock appointment soon. Are you all good here?”

“I am.” Lorelei couldn’t think of anything she needed, except for an excuse to skip the restoration meeting that night. “I don’t suppose you need me to work over, though? Until, say, ten or eleven tonight?”

Mike’s expression turned tense. “Please tell me that’s not some weird way of asking me out.”

“What?” That was so not what she meant. “No. That’s gross.”

“I’d normally take being called gross as an insult, but in this case, I’m glad to hear you feel that way.”

“I have one of those Ruby Restoration meetings tonight, and I’m dreading it.” Lorelei shot a paper clip across the room using a rubber band as a slingshot. “Jebediah Winkle sends me evil vibes across Lancelot’s tacky back room, while the rest of them drone on about car washes and bake sales. They’re never going to raise enough money that way.”

“Then what do you suggest they do?”

She paused with paper clip number two ready to fly. “What do you mean, what do
I
suggest?”

He stared at her expectantly.

“What?” she asked.

“You joined the committee of your own free will, I assume.”

Lorelei didn’t like where this was going. “Kind of.”

“That means you agreed to help raise the money. So help.”

“How? No one on that committee is going to listen to me.” Lorelei shot the paper clip, eliciting a
dink
as it bounced off the window. “I’ll work whatever booth they put me behind, or handle a hose to scrub down a line of pickup trucks in the Brubaker’s parking lot. I’m sure that’s all they expect me to do.”

Boss Man swiped the next paper clip before she could load it in the slingshot. “Who cares what they expect from you? If you don’t like their ideas, come up with better ones.”

That sounded like something Spencer would say. “You’re being very bossy.”

“I get to do that because my name is on the door. Now I suggest you spend a little time this afternoon, after you organize the inventory sheets, of course, coming up with fantastic fund-raising ideas that will blow that committee’s collective socks off.”

“Fine,” she said, tossing the rubber band on the desk. “But when they laugh in my face, I’m going to let them know how you’ve agreed to join the committee.”

Mike was nearly to the door when he yelled back, “I can’t secure the construction work if I’m on the committee. Conflict of interest. Now get back to work before I start docking your pay for all those paper clips you keep shooting behind the file cabinet.”

In her most mature fashion, Lorelei stuck her tongue out at her boss. Something he couldn’t see since he’d already exited the building. How was she supposed to solve the fund-raising problems in one afternoon when the entire committee hadn’t come up with anything viable in a year? Whatever they did, it had to be bigger than anything they’d done so far. But what? They could have a big gala and charge a hundred bucks a seat, but no one in town would pay that.

They could sell something. What were the rules against putting the statue of some old founding father on eBay? There was a perfectly good one standing in the town square doing nothing but collecting bird crap.

Nah. Someone would probably get their panties in a bunch. Lorelei cogitated for another minute or two, and then she spotted the flier on her desk about the Main Street Festival coming up next week. What if they had a shorter fall festival to raise money for the Ruby? Instead of five days of carnival rides and parades, a two-day event with lots of food and entertainment that would bring folks in from miles around. But what would be the draw?

Maybe Mike had connections in Nashville they could use. Bring in a moderately big name, someone up-and-coming, or better yet, old and on the decline. At least then people would know who he was and maybe come out to see an old has-been before he rode off into the sunset for good.

The more she thought about it, the more she could see the options in her mind. Lots of elements would need to be donated to limit the overhead costs from eating up all the profit, but the committee had enough merchants on board to make that happen. A Restore the Ruby Festival. They could hold it in the fall when the weather would be cooler. If they pulled it off, work could probably begin on the Ruby by Christmas, as they’d hoped.

Lorelei’s first inclination was to call Spencer and run it past him, but she needed to have a real plan before pitching the idea. Mike had told her to plot, and plot she would. Then, tonight, she’d have something real to offer at the meeting. How triumphant it would feel to watch Jebediah Winkle have to agree with something she’d suggested. Such sweet revenge for how he’d acted the week before.

Dragging a yellow legal pad out of her top drawer, Lorelei made a list of potential sponsors and participants, mapped out the area around the Ruby where the festivities could be held, and even drew up where the stage would be. Leaning back, she stared at the diagram.

“This could work,” she mumbled, excitement bubbling in her chest. “By damn, this could really work.”

Four days felt like forever.

Rosie hadn’t invited Spencer in for dinner, and other than catching glimpses of Lorelei out his window, racing in or out of the house, he’d had no contact with her since the argument on Monday. The plan had been to give her a couple days to cool off. Considering how she’d been acting since her return, Spencer knew she wasn’t upset that they hadn’t had sex. What she was mad about was that
he’d
called it quits before she did.

And women said men were the ones with fragile egos.

By Thursday, he expected to find her lingering on the porch, waiting for him to saunter up and charm her into a smile. But she wasn’t even home when he’d gotten in from work. Maybe she
did
intend to avoid him forever.

Which left Spencer with a dilemma. Tonight was a Ruby Restoration meeting. Should he expect her to show up without prompting, or knock on the door and offer to give her a ride? Would she refuse to stay on the committee because of him, or continue to take part while also continuing to give him the cold shoulder?

“Are we going to this meeting or are you going to sit up here twiddling your thumbs all night?” came a voice through his screen door.

Spencer spotted Lorelei standing on the other side, brows up expectantly.

“I guess that’s my answer then,” he said, grabbing a ball cap off the coffee table. Champ jumped off the couch, but Spencer waved the dog back. After snagging his keys off the counter, he stepped onto his tiny porch and pulled the door shut behind him. Lorelei was already at the truck.

Spencer pressed the button on his key fob to unlock the doors. “I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

“Well, I am.” The long blue dress she wore made climbing into the truck look like an agility test, but she was in and buckled before he slid the key into the ignition. “Look,” she said, turning his way as far as the seat belt would allow. “Let’s not make a big deal about this. You were a jerk. We both lost our minds for a minute. It won’t happen again.”

He’d argue two of those points if he hadn’t already decided this wasn’t a battle he’d insist on winning. And if she wanted to believe what sparked between them wouldn’t catch fire again, Spencer would let her have her delusions. For tonight anyway.

Still, he couldn’t resist one tiny poke. “I accept your apology,” he said, turning the truck onto Mill Avenue. Lorelei huffed, and though he couldn’t see her face as she glared out the passenger window, Spencer had no doubt she’d rolled her eyes. “So are the treats still selling well?”

He’d made a point of stopping into Snow’s shop around midafternoon both Wednesday and today, so he knew the answer was yes. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t give her the chance to brag.

“Sold out every day this week,” she said. “We doubled the amount after Monday, but we’ll leave the quantities at the current level for now, then increase them for festival week.” Lorelei sounded like a true businesswoman, and he was happy to see her finding a niche. Something she could be proud of.

Of course, if he spoke as much aloud, she’d find some way to deflect the compliment. So he kept the thought to himself.

“Sounds like a plan. And the job with Mike?”

Again, Spencer had asked Mike that morning how Lorelei was working out. The man had nothing but glowing praise for his new office assistant. And she’d been worried about learning the software.

“I like him.” Lorelei leaned an elbow on the passenger door. “He doesn’t seem to mind my relaxed version of being professional. And he doesn’t look at me like I’m going to screw something up at any minute, which is nice.”

“Good.” Spencer didn’t like that she’d talked about the man instead of the job, but he ignored the ping of jealousy that felt like a hot poker between his ribs. “I’m glad.”

Lorelei sighed. “Go ahead. I know you’re dying to say it.”

For once, he didn’t have a clue what she meant. “I’m sorry?”

“You know you want to rub it in that you convinced me to find something I liked to do, which got me baking, and then landed me this job with Mike. So go ahead,” she said. “Gloat.”

The woman was impossible. “Lorelei, you came up with baking all on your own. Then you found the recipes and made the sweets.” He leaned her way. “Again,
on your own
.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “But you got me the office job.”

“No,” he corrected. “I introduced you to someone who had a job opening I thought you could fill. You got the job, and you’re the one making it work.”