Page 2 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)

Six months later

Gretchen

“Mrs. Wainright?” a young woman’s cheery voice asked when I answered my cell phone.

I replied, “Yes?” immediately.

Although I had ceased being Mrs. Wainwright three days ago in a Boston courtroom, I wasn’t going to change how people addressed me in the middle of the school year. I’d start over with Ms. Kelly next fall.

“Hi, it’s Shelly from Mitchell Cabinets and Woodworking. How are you today?”

I instantly closed my eyes tight.

Fuck.

I’d completely forgotten about the custom kitchen cabinets we’d ordered seven months ago. One month before my world turned upside down.

Finding Troy fucking his assistant over his desk had been so cliché, it was gross.

He’d even run after me, tucking his dick in his pants as he yelled, “It’s not what it looks like.”

And seriously, they hadn’t even bothered to lock the door? What the fuck? It was like they’d wanted to get caught.

Or maybe everyone in his office already knew, and I was the laughing stock of his company .

He hadn’t come home that night, and I knew then I’d be the only one trying to save our marriage and our family. That wasn’t something I could do alone.

The divorce had taken its toll, so the kitchen renovation had been the furthest thing from my mind. In fact, I’d forgotten all about it.

“Hi, Shelly. I hope you’re calling to tell me that you can’t get the materials, and you need to cancel.”

I remembered the salesman had pushed our date to cancel with a full refund to until they began work on the project because they were having trouble getting the walnut wood that Troy had insisted on.

“No! Great news! Your cabinets are finished, and I’m calling to schedule your installation.”

I bit back a sigh. They must have notified Troy they were starting the work, and the bastard “forgot” to tell me. How convenient they were finished right after we’d signed our papers.

“Shelly, I’m hoping you can help me out.

” I decided to be vulnerable—woman-to-woman, with hopes she’d take pity on me.

“My husband was the one who wanted the kitchen renovation, and well, I caught him cheating on me with his assistant not long after we placed our order with you, and he moved out. Needless to say, during the divorce proceedings, I completely forgot about the cabinets, and now it’s just not in my budget.

Is there anything you can do? I mean, I understand if there’s a penalty or something, but I’d like to cancel the order. ”

“Ohhh.”

That didn’t sound promising .

She was silent a beat before continuing. “I’m so sorry about your divorce, but the cabinets are done . They’re custom-built, specifically for your kitchen.”

“I know, but surely they could be used for someone else’s project?”

I was willing to take a hit, but not a forty-thousand dollar one. Especially since now that the divorce was final, I couldn’t even get Troy to pay for half of the cabinets I hadn’t wanted in the first place.

“Let me put you through to a supervisor.”

“Thanks.”

I let out a long exhale, steeling myself to have to retell my tale of woe to a new person. And not to be sexist, but woodworking was a male-dominated industry, so I prepared for a man’s voice to come on the line. He probably wouldn’t give two shits about my problem.

Not that Shelly really had either.

“This is Rick.”

I took another deep breath and recounted my story, complete with all the embarrassing details.

He was sympathetic to my plight.

Sort of.

He exclaimed, “oh, no!” in all the right places, offered his condolences, and told me I was better off without Troy.

Then he said, “If only you would have called when you found out. We would have been able to cancel the order with no problem. But as it stands… the cabinets are done.” He tried to insert some pep into his tone when he added, “The good news is they’ll increase the value of your home. ”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I had no intention of selling my house, so I couldn’t care less about increasing the value.

“Please, Rick. My divorce was finalized three days ago, and the cost of the cabinets wasn’t included in the settlement. Isn’t there something you can do?”

“I’m afraid not.”

That made my spine stiffen. I wasn’t trying to be an entitled bitch.

More like a desperate one. I’d made a lot of concessions to keep the house in the divorce because I wanted Jake to grow up in Lancastle, with my family nearby, and go to school in the Lancastle district.

With the skyrocketing cost of housing, there’s no way I’d be able to afford even a “starter” home here now.

“What if I just don’t schedule a time for your installers to come.”

Yeah, I’d lose the ten percent deposit, but really, what else could they do? Although, four thousand dollars was no meager sum for someone on a teacher’s salary.

“We’ll take you to court. And based on past experiences, you’ll lose. Our contract is air-tight, so you’ll be out the cost of the cabinets, plus the cost of the lawyers—plural. The contract spells out that if we go to court, the losing party pays all attorneys’ fees.”

I didn’t remember that little tidbit.

“Look, I’m desperate. I can’t afford the cabinets, and I seriously doubt they’ll improve the value of the house enough to cover the cost. Isn’t there someone you can talk to? ”

“I can talk to Gabe, the owner, but I don’t think he’ll budge. He’s the guy who spent the last two-and-a-half months making them.”

I had a feeling Rick was ready to get rid of me and just wanted to pass the buck, but I still said, “I’d appreciate anything you can do.”

“Hold on.”

He punched a couple of buttons; except he didn’t put me on hold.

I wasn’t sure if he realized I could hear him humming a tune while he walked along a hallway, then through a door into what I assumed was a workshop based on how much echo his footsteps started to make and how the sound of machinery grew louder.

I heard him call, “Hey, boss?” and the machine noise stopped.

“Yeah?” a deep, gruff voice replied from a distance.

“About those cabinets for the Wainwrights—”

“When are they getting the fuck out of here? They’re taking up too much room. Did you schedule the installation?”

“Uh, about that—”

“What about that?” the other man snarled.

“Apparently the Wainwrights got divorced after they ordered the cabinets.”

Gabe snorted. “I could have seen that coming. She is way out of his league.”

My ego welcomed his assessment, especially since it’d taken such a blow when my husband decided to throw away our family for a woman probably ten years younger than me.

I wasn’t even sure if she could legally drink.

But I wondered how Gabe could say that about me since we’d never met.

Maybe he’d been there when we went into the showroom, and I hadn’t realized it.

“I guess she caught his secretary riding his dick.”

I heard him wince. “What a moron. That chick is hot with a capital H, and he cheats on her? He was probably neglecting her at home, too.”

Again, the ego boost was appreciated, and he wasn’t wrong about me being neglected.

“Yeah, well… she doesn’t want the cabinets anymore—”

“ What? ”

“And is wondering if there’s something you can do.”

“They’re custom cabinets, what the fuck does she think I can do for her? Tell her unless she wants to ride my dick, she’s out of luck. We have a contract.”

“ Excuse me ?” I shouted into the phone.

I heard Rick mutter, “Oh, shit,” before the line went dead.

****

Gabe

I looked at Rick’s mortified face as he punched a button on the phone, then dropped it on the nearest surface like it was burning his hand, and I realized what had just happened.

“You are fucking fired,” I growled.

“Damn, Gabe. I’m sorry. I thought I’d put her on hold.”

“Obviously not, dumbass.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a deep sigh.

How the hell am I going to fix this?

I had no clue .

What I did know was that I didn’t need this shit today. Becky had called earlier that morning asking me to bring our daughter Brittany’s school sweatshirt to our son Brayden’s first lacrosse game of the season later that afternoon.

When I explained that wasn’t feasible since I didn’t have time to go home before his game, she threw a tantrum like only my ex-wife could.

“She needs that sweatshirt, Gabriel.”

I bristled at her use of my government name.

“She’s staying with me this weekend, Rebecca . She can get it then. Obviously, it’s not that important or she wouldn’t have left it in the first place.”

“So, you’re okay with our daughter waiting for the bus in forty-degree weather in the morning without a sweatshirt.”

“And you’re telling me that my daughter has no spring jacket or any other sweatshirt in her closet? It has to be the one sweatshirt she left at my place.”

I deliberately called Britt my daughter because I knew that would piss Becky off. Yeah, it was petty, but the woman was picking a fight with me over a goddamn sweatshirt.

“None that she’ll wear!”

“Then she must not be that cold in the morning.”

“I can’t believe that you’re being so difficult about this.”

“I’m not the one being difficult. If I had time to go home before Brayden’s game, trust me, I would.”

If for no other reason than to shut you the hell up.

I left that part unspoken.

“Fine. I’ll handle it, like I always do.”

Without another word, she ended the call .

I closed my eyes and threw my head back with a loud sigh as I set my phone on my desk. Becky was going to make me pay for not doing her bidding, of that I was certain.

Fortunately, I now had the option to simply walk away and ignore her.

I’d take the kids shopping this weekend and buy them ten damn sweatshirts each if I thought that would placate my ex-wife. But I knew it wouldn’t, because she’d find something else to be upset with me about next week. That had been par for the course since our divorce was finalized five years ago.

Actually, pretty much since Britt turned four and our world fell apart. We just didn’t get divorced for another two years.

In some ways it’d been a blessing, but I did miss being with my kids every night.

And now, thanks to fucking Rick, I had another woman pissed off at me.

Granted, this one had every right to be, but I had no idea how to fix it. I wasn’t in a position to give Gretchen Wainwright what she wanted. I’d spent the last ten weeks working on those cabinets, not to mention the cost of materials, I couldn’t just eat that, even if I wanted to.

Besides, my brother, Maverick, would have my ass if I did.

He was supposed to be my silent partner, but he was hardly silent.

Which, I had to begrudgingly admit, was a good thing.

His business savvy had allowed me to turn what had once been my side-hustle into a full-time gig, complete with ten employees.

He’d also been the one to have a lawyer draw up our contract. And he was the one who insisted we take people to court if they breached said contract—something we’d only had to do twice, fortunately.

I could picture how this one would go.

“So, Mr. Mitchell, did you really suggest my client ride your… appendage in exchange for terminating the contract for her custom kitchen cabinets?”

Headlines flashed in my head. “ Contractor Demands Sex From Clients ” or some shit like that.

That would not be good for business. Not to mention, the Yelp reviews would probably be scathing.

One thing was certain—Rick was going through training on how to work the damn phone.