a noncommittal shrug, I leaned sideways against the door of my truck. "Hey, it's not my mistake."
"Oh, I know," she assured me. "I just mean, the whole situation. It's a total disaster."
Disaster – it was her favorite word, and she'd been using it nonstop for the last fifteen minutes, ever since Arden had disappeared into the crew house across the street, where she'd slept last night.
I hadn't slept – not there or anywhere else.
Instead, I'd spent the bulk of last night dealing with the roof leak. I hadn't fixed it. That would've required scaffolding and a crew. But I had been able to minimize the damage by devising a crude funnel-and-hose system that diverted the rainwater into the nearby shower drain – and not down the main stairway.
Afterward, I'd used some rags from the basement to dry what I could while making arrangements to have the roof replaced.
The replacement would begin later this week – or sooner if rain showed in the forecast.
Hell, if this weren't part of the TV show, I'd have a crew here already to guarantee no further damage.
But the show was important – not because I gave two shits about the entertainment industry, but because the ratings generated millions in tool sales along with a few hundred local jobs.
Thanks to the show, the brain child of my brother Chase, Blast Tools had gained two decades of growth in three short years.
The show was free advertising on steroids, which meant that I was willing to deal with more than my share of bullshit to keep it going. Hell, I'd deal with a hundred Ardens if that's what it took.
And I wouldn’t waste my time bitching about it either. Bitching was for pussies – and for pampered producers who wore high heels to job sites.
Next to me, Waverly said, "Maybe she won't take it. I mean, people turn down job offers all the time, right?"
I gave her a look. "Not this time."
"But we can't be sure," she said.
We. That was another word she used a lot – sometimes related to the show, and sometimes for sly innuendos like, "We should test out that jacuzzi sometime."
So far, I'd been playing dumb. I knew how these things ended – with more drama than I wanted or needed. If I was lucky, she'd get the hint soon enough. And if not – well, I'd deal with that later.
Thinking of Arden, I told Waverly, "Trust me. She'll take it."
Landon Tarrington had copied both of us on the email containing his offer. It had come across Waverly's cell phone just five minutes ago, and she'd made a point to wave the offer in my face – as if I couldn't read it on my own screen.
It didn't matter. One glance was enough for me to know that Arden wouldn't be turning it down.
With a sigh, Waverly said, "I still don't know what Landon saw in her."
I did. Arden was the classic girl next door – long brown hair, a perky nose, and dimples in both of her cheeks when she smiled.
She hadn't smiled much lately, especially at me. But she'd hit Landon with a smile or two.
The guy wasn't blind. And he was damn good at what he did, even if some of his decisions weren't to my liking.
When I made no reply, Waverly said, "I have a theory. Do you want to hear it?"
Nope.
Not me.
When I remained silent, Waverly announced, "I think she has a thing for you."
Now that got my attention. "What?"
"Oh come on," Waverly laughed. "When you were standing in front of the mower, she was practically drooling."
I frowned. Arden? No.
She hadn't been drooling. She'd been sweating. And she'd looked obscenely good doing it. Her cheeks had been flushed, and her yellow T-shirt had been clingy with perspiration. And her bra? Well, let's just say the lace wasn't nearly thick enough to hide the outlines of her damp nipples.
And now, my jeans were growing tight. Again.
Shit.
The hot-and-sweaty look shouldn't have been sexy. But on Arden, it was.
Good thing she didn't realize it, or I'd have real trouble on my hands – because if Arden ever turned on the charm, assuming she had any, I'd be more tempted than I wanted to admit.
I told Waverly, "Sorry, you're wrong."
"I sure hope so," she said, hitting me with a sultry smile of her own. "Because we don't need her."
We. There was that word again. The way she talked, it was just the two of us against the world. But that's not how it