A Marriage-Minded Man / From Friend to Father. Karen Templeton

She looked at the seventies-era harvest gold stove. “And the appliances?”

      “Wouldn’t hurt to change them out. Don’t have to be top of the line, but they should at least be from this century.”

      The siblings looked at each other, then back at Tess. “What kind of money are we talking?” Fred asked.

      “Well…you could easily sink forty, fifty grand into the place—”

      “Good God!”

      “But twenty-five should cover it.”

      “Forget it—”

      “Oh, come on, Freddy, it’s not as if we don’t have it. And if she can get us—” Gilly turned to Tess. “How much?”

      Tess wrote a number on her pad, then turned it around to show them.

      “Oh, my,” Gilly said, hand on cheek.

      Fred frowned. He seemed to do that a lot. “But there’s no guarantee it’ll sell.”

      “No, there’s not,” Tess said easily. “And I understand your concerns, I really do. But you know, we’re so close to Taos and Santa Fe…once the house is fixed up, even if it doesn’t sell it would make a terrific vacation rental. So there’s another option. We could manage the property for you. You wouldn’t have to do a thing.” When the two exchanged another glance, Tess picked her purse up off the chipped Formica counter. “Tell you what…why don’t I give you a few minutes to talk it over between you? I’ll just wait outside.”

      Tess crossed to the kitchen patio door, the glass practically opaque from God-knew-how-many years’ worth of grime and dust. French doors, both in here and the living room, would be spectacular…

      Five minutes later, if that, she heard the door slide open behind her. “Ms. Montoya?”

      Tess turned, trying not to look too eager. “Yes?”

      “Tell you what,” Fred said, hiking up his designer jeans as he walked out onto the redwood deck. “If you can bring in the renovations for twenty grand, we’ve got a deal. I’m not real keen on the vacation house idea, but Gilly seems to think it could work. And we like your style.” He extended his hand. “So. You’ve got the listing. Until Christmas.”

      Tess’s stomach dropped. “But…that’s less than two months! Six is more customary.”

      “If you can’t sell it before the holiday vacation season starts, we might as well rent it out.”

      That’ll teach her to come up with brilliant ideas.

      “And one more thing—long as you’re hirin’ a carpenter anyway…you know Gene Garrett?”

      “Uh…sure…”

      “He and I went to school together, I know he’s got a cabinetry shop in town. If I gotta spend the cash to fix this place up, might as well toss some of it his way, you know what I mean? Especially these days, I imagine he could use the business. Betcha also if you mention my name? He’ll give us a good deal.”

      Lord save her from cheapskates. And heaven knew there were other carpenters in the area she’d much rather hire, for obvious reasons. But if Gene Garrett was part of the deal, she’d deal.

      “I’ll get in touch with him this afternoon,” Tess said, shaking Fred’s hand.

      “For crying out loud, dog,” Eli yelled at Blue, his father’s old Heeler, when the mutt started yapping up a storm at the front of the shop. “What’s your problem?” A moment later, light flashed across the front room as the door swung open.

      “Anybody here?” Tess called out.

      Thinking, What the hell? Eli set down the sander and walked out front, his fingers jammed in his jeans’ pockets. Busy with the dog, Tess didn’t see him at first, giving him time to give her a nice, leisurely once-over. Tight jeans. High-heeled boots. A soft, body-hugging sweater too long for her leather jacket. Big old dangly earrings. An aura of purpose he still wasn’t used to.

      “Slumming?” he said mildly, making her jump. She straightened, clutching a purse bigger than she was to her side, out of which she dug his sweatshirt.

      “Um…I brought this back,” she said, handing it to him, then looking around. “Your dad here?”

      “Nope. Out on that install. So’s everybody else. Just me and the dog holdin’ the fort. What can I do for you?”

      Yeah, the double meaning had been sorta deliberate.

      Not that she’d give him the satisfaction of reacting. Except for her eyes. Gal’s eyes gave her away every time. And why he was goading her, he had no idea. Wasn’t like he expected, or wanted, anything to come of it. Then again, maybe that was the point. That, knowing he was perfectly safe, he could goad all he wanted.

      Safe from her anyway. Safe from himself? Maybe not so sure about that.

      “I just got the Coyote Trail listing,” Tess said, and he dragged his head back from wherever it had wandered.

      “You’re kidding.”

      “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

      “Because the place is a dump?”

      “It’s not a dump, it just needs…a little TLC.”

      “Honey, what that place needs is ten years of intensive care.”

      “In an ideal world, maybe. But what I got the Harris spawn to agree to is the rehab equivalent of Botox. In any case, Fred Harris apparently went to school with your dad, wants to give him the work—”

      “Wait a minute…you actually talked them into fixing the place up?”

      She almost smiled. “I can be very persuasive,” she said, her voice all low and sexy, and Eli literally bit his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Instead he squatted to scratch Blue’s ears.

      “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Dad’s booked through January. Unless y’all can wait until February—”

      “No, it has to be done immediately. I only have the listing until Christmas.”

      “That’s insane.”

      “Tell me about it.” For the first time, doubt wrinkled her forehead. “Are you sure he couldn’t squeeze this in? Somehow?”

      “You’re talking, what? Kitchen and bath update?”

      “And redoing some of the built-ins, and the window trim…”

      “Then I think it’s safe to say Dad’s not gonna be able to ‘fit you in’.” To prove his point, he walked over to the old, beat-up desk on the other side of the room and picked up a bulging folder.

      “Crap,” she said. “Not that I’m not thrilled for your dad, having so much work.”

      “Of course, if you’re really hard up…” Eli grinned. “There’s always me.”

      “Um, I think I’ll pass.” But she didn’t sound all that happy with her decision. Or him, hard to tell. “Were you always this…cocky and I somehow missed it?”

      “I prefer to think of it as charming.”

      “As I said.”

      Eli crossed his arms. “How come you didn’t call first, save yourself a trip?” Saved yourself the awkwardness of having to talk to me.

      “I did. Nobody answered. Kept getting the machine.”

      “But I’ve been right here…” Eli glanced over at the phone, blinking its little butt off. Messages, 3. “How many times you call?”

      “Three.”

      “Guess I couldn’t hear over