she muttered under her breath. The man had opened his custom home construction business at literally the same time Montana had. He had more money and more charisma, and his business had taken off while hers had whimpered in the darkness.
The only reason she’d survived for the past couple of years was because of her aunt and uncle’s generosity and kindness. She’d had a job with a construction firm that had finished their subdivision three months ago, and Montana still hadn’t found consistent full-time work.
The building boom in Three Rivers seemed to be slowing down a little, but she didn’t want to leave town. She liked the stability she’d earned here, and she wanted to maintain some level of that for herself and her daughter.
Things had started to pick up in the past couple of months since she’d landed on a list in the Two Cents app, and Montana had been using that during some of her pitches.
What are you doing here? she wondered as she looked at the carved name above the doorway that led deeper into the house. Everything about this place screamed wealth, that was what she was doing there.
She needed a job, plain and simple.
It had taken her thirty-five minutes to get here from her aunt’s house on the east side of town, and that was way too far to drive every day. Aurora was still in school, but Montana liked to be home when her daughter got off the bus.
She’d basically be able to work half-days with a commute as far as this one.
He’s the first person who’s let you in, she thought, quickly changing her internal dialog into a prayer. Please, Lord, help this to work out. I need this job.
“I said you could come in.”
She turned toward the man, who now wore jeans instead of gym shorts, a black and white shirt with plenty of checkers on it, and a deliciously black cowboy hat. “I was just taking in the beauty of this place,” she said. “It can’t be very old.”
“A little over a year,” he said, looking up at the ceiling and walls too.
“Micah Walker did it, didn’t he?” Montana watched the man.
He smiled, which only made her want to roll her eyes. “He sure did.” He met her gaze again. “Do you know Micah?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” she asked, realizing too late how bitter she sounded.
He didn’t seem to notice though. His smile stayed hitched in place, and he stared at her in a way that almost had her walking right back out the front door, job or not. He blinked, and Montana saw a hint of redness creep up his neck.
“Sorry,” he said with a low chuckle. “I’m not properly caffeinated. Come in, come in.” He turned and went into the kitchen, and Montana decided to follow him.
“I’m Bishop, by the way,” he said. “I realize I never even told you that.” He stood in the biggest kitchen Montana had ever seen. The house seemed to go on and on, and the massive dining table against the far wall intrigued her.
The living room held four couches and three more loveseats, a huge flatscreen TV, and even a couple of beanbags. She half-expected a little black dog to come trotting up to greet her, because she’d entered a fairytale where all dreams came true.
Her daughter really wanted a little black dog, and that would’ve been heaven for Aurora.
“Coffee?” Bishop appeared in front of her, a mug extended toward her. “I’ll get the cream out. Sugar is on the counter there.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the mug. She didn’t know where to look next, and she took a sip of the coffee. It was mighty good too, even without sugar. She still stepped over to the counter and spooned in the good stuff. She sighed as she sat at the bar and watched Bishop doctor up a cup of coffee for himself.
He turned, his face already beaming, and walked over to her. “What’s your schedule like?” he asked.
“I’m pretty open,” she said, glancing at him. “I have a small job at the college to finish up, and then I’m all yours.” She realized what she’d said and pressed her eyes closed.
“Hmm, I like the sound of that,” Bishop said.
Montana’s eyes flew open, and she faced him. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, lifting his cup to his mouth. He sipped and asked, “Where else have you worked? Do you have a general contractor’s license? Business insurance? That kind of stuff?”
“Yes,” Montana said. She went on to detail her