Screwdrivered (Cocktail 3)

I shot him a self-satisfied look, until she turned that finger on me. “Now, the house is on the historical register, and he’s in charge of that. So if you want your house to remain on the register—and you do, believe me—then you’re going to have to work with him. Okay?”

Now Clark was the one with the self-satisfied look. Humpf.

“I’m leaving a list of three contractors I’ve worked with in the area, and they’re all solid. Once I get back to my office I’ll prepare a list of some of the things you want to do right away, like the roof and the porch. Get a bid from each of them, then we’ll go from there. Sound good?” she asked, closing her notebook.

“I think so. How much do I owe you?”

“Not a dime; I’ve been dying to get away for a weekend. Just promise me that next time I come up, you’ll have a room ready for me to stay in.” She smiled at me, and I gave her a hug. She was a pretty cool chick. “And, Clark, you said you have copies of the grant her aunt received, yes? Can you send me a copy of that?”

“Of course. I know right where it is,” he said, closing up his briefcase.

“Dewey decimal system, right?” I joked.

He gave me a baleful stare. “Don’t mock the system, Vivian.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I answered, standing up and heading for the fridge. “Now who wants a beer?”

“Gimme.” A deep voice sounded from the other side of the screen door, and we all turned. Simon and Ryan had returned from windsurfing, clad in wet suits and grins.

“Brrr, aren’t you cold?” Mimi asked, hurrying outside with a few towels I’d recently folded.

“Nah, it’s just brisk!” Ryan answered, his teeth chattering.

“Looks more than brisk. You sure you don’t want some coffee? I can have some made in”—I looked at the Magic Chef stove—“an hour?”

“Nah, we’ll be fine. Beer’s good,” Simon said, pulling down his wet suit in front and toweling off. Caroline dropped her notepad. Oh boy. And Mimi? She was getting frisky with the brisk. I grabbed two beers and held them out the porch door with my eyes closed.

“Here. Someone take these. Hurry,” I instructed, laughing when I heard Mimi squealing. “Clark, you want one?” I asked, hearing his deep laughter behind me when Caroline got a face full of wet suit. Aw yeah.

“No, no I should get going. Not sure where this is heading,” he said, still laughing.

“I’ll walk you out.” We bobbed and weaved through the couples on the porch, laughing as they said good-bye to Clark. As we headed for his car down the driveway, I caught him peeking at the garage.

“Do you know about her car?” I asked.

“The Bel Air? Oh yeah, that car’s a legend in this town. I grew up seeing it all over the place; not the kind of car you forget.”

“I haven’t even been too far into the garage; you wouldn’t believe the amount of crap that’s out there. But from what I’ve seen so far, it’s a pretty sweet car.”

“You know, Maude probably got all of the maintenance done at Brady’s Auto—that’s where everyone in town goes. I bet they still have all her records when it was in for service.” We’d reached his car and he set his briefcase inside, then leaned back against the door. “I could make a call, see if they still have those records, if you wanted me to.”

He smiled down at me, his shy grin prompting one in return. “You don’t have to go to any trouble, Clark. It’s sweet, though.”

“It’s no trouble, really. I don’t mind.”

“You sure this isn’t just a plot to get to ride around in it?” I teased. How did I ever think his hair was just brown? In the sun it was more like a deep chestnut, with hints of honey and russet. It was curling slightly in the salty air, waving away from his face now. “You want to get behind that wheel?”

“Now that you mention it, I—”

He was interrupted by a great rumbling as Hank’s massive beastly truck thundered up the gravel driveway and around the corner of the house.

He climbed out of the truck with an easy grace, the kind that comes with knowing exactly what your body is capable of. Blond hair pulled back, with a few escaped pieces bouncing freely around his face. He pulled off his shirt, then grabbed a few apples from the truck. He looked up, briefly caught my eye, and headed for the barn. But when he noticed me talking to Clark?

He turned midstride and headed directly for us. Clark stood up straighter, moving the tiniest bit closer to me. Hank’s eyes had laser locked on me, dragging his gaze down my body and back up again in a way that made me gulp. The other alternative was to drool; I was literally salivating.

He stopped not a foot from me. He held my stare in the way that really good-looking men can, knowing that their presence is enough. Then he opened his mouth to speak, finally initiating conversation with me!

“ ’Sup, Viv?”

The man was a poet. I had no words. Strike that, I had one.

“ ’Sup?”

He grinned at me, and I swear on all that is holy a sunbeam broke through the clouds and shone directly on him, highlighting the planes of his exquisite face and letting me know that beauty had a name, and its name was Hank.

“Oh for pity’s sake,” I heard behind me. I turned to see Clark staring at the two of us with a disapproving look on his face.

“Sorry about that, Clark. Do you know Hank?” I asked, sliding out of the way as the two appraised each other.