Jesus.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Excuse me. Anyway, we saw the treehouse, and the fountain maze, and I inquired with the security at the house, and they told me you’re the designer. Is that true?”
“The designer?” I repeated, seeing Winter quietly listening beside me. “I—uh, no. I built them, if that’s what you mean. What’s this about?”
“Well, my children loved both features,” he burst out. “Absolutely adored them. It was like it was Christmas morning. I feel so weird asking, given who your father is—or was—I’m sorry for your loss, sir,” he added. “But I have to ask. You wouldn’t be willing to build another like it, would you? At my home? For my children?”
“Another what?”
“Treehouse and fountain maze.”
I scoffed. “Uh, no. Sorry.”
“Oh, I uh…”
“I have to go,” I told him, shaking my head.
I hung up, laughing under my breath. For Christ’s sake. What was I? Neighborhood dad, around to help with science projects, too? Maybe come by to help you move?
“What was that?” Winter asked.
I dumped my phone back in the console and shifted the car into gear. “Someone liked the shit I built at your house,” I replied. “Wanted me to make a treehouse and fountain for their property.”
“And you said no?”
“I don’t have time for that,” I shot back. “I need to get a job and figure out what we’re doing.” And then I paused, my back straightening and understanding dawning on me. “Ohhhhh.”
“Yeah, dumbass!” she screeched.
He was trying to hire me.
To design and build.
It had never occurred to me whether the features I built at Winter’s house were any good or not, but I’d had fun planning them out. I was completely focused on the job at hand, and I definitely enjoyed doing something where I could be left alone. To dive into all the little nooks and crannies I still kind of wanted to spend my life hiding in. Only with her now.
I wouldn’t mind doing that for work if I could. I just hadn’t thought of it. I had a dozen more blueprints of other designs when I was brainstorming the builds.
But...
“I can’t work for the people in my own town like I’m a servant.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “First stop Thunder Bay, next stop world domination. How about that?”
Meaning it was a starting point. It could grow into a lot more.
A lot more.
But then I remembered.
“I went to jail for a sex crime,” I reminded her. “No one will want me working around their families.”
“And I don’t think your history has escaped Grady MacMiller’s notice, either,” she pointed out. “He still wanted to hire you, Damon.”
Yeah, I guess so. He knew the nature of the trial. Once I married Winter, people would know it was a lot more complicated than what happened in court.
And then maybe, with word of mouth…
“Dial him back and give me the phone,” she told me. “I’ll pretend to be your assistant who buffers between the client and the temperamental, asshole artist.”