Page 26 of Sandbar Summer (Summer Cottage #3)

Chapter Seventeen

Goldie, Present Day

Goldie spent the morning on the computer. She’d sent invites and personal notes. Left messages on private lines and slid in the DMs of a few of the country music stars on the schedule for North of Nash. All but one. She wanted to help Irish Hills, but she had her limits.

By then, she was pleased with herself. If she couldn’t be the draw for Irish Hills, maybe she could lean on a few other big names to add some sparkle in the form of rhinestones to the local scene.

She didn’t tell a soul about what she was doing. She just reached out with invitations.

Up next on her list of things to do, was a meeting with Joe Cassidy about working for her instead of Libby.

Joe arrived early. He was always early. This was opposite of a Hollywood power play.

Goldie was out on the back lawn, looking at the mess that was the reedy overgrowth.

“This feels like an issue. Back in the day, guests could hang out back here, there was the dock and a huge slide, and there was a shuffleboard area somewhere around here. Right now, it’s not great for swimming.”

“Hi, Joe, how are you?”

“Well, you are ten minutes early, always on Lombardi Time.”

“Whoa, you know what that is?”

“My dad swore by it. If you’re on time, you’re late.”

“Exactly, good man.”

“Anyway, I was going to head in to talk to you. But this vegetation situation distracted me. I need to hire someone.”

“My son could do it. If you want. Red charges reasonable rates.”

“Oh, yes, can you ask him? Also, that leads me to the next item on my list. What about you? How long do I have you?”

Joe gave her a wicked look, and Goldie actually felt herself blush. She, the woman used to ignoring depraved producers flashing her from under their hotel robes, she actually blushed.

“I have blocked out the rest of the summer, maybe into fall, for this job. That was Libby’s deal anyway, same for you?”

“Do you think everything will be done by then?”

“Done? This place will never be done. You have a thirteen-bedroom monster on the lake. It will always need to be cared for, probably full time.”

“Is that something you do?”

“I do historic restoration. That’s my line. But Libby and Dean knew I was between jobs, so they locked me in for the time being. And I do love this old place.”

“I need you.” Goldie said it wrong. “I mean, I need you to help get this place in shape.”

Goldie’s weird declaration did not go unnoticed by Joe. He smirked at her, and she had the urge to punch him in the chest. But that wouldn’t be professional. She was already the diva from Hollywood.

“I can’t stay here forever, but I can get you on your feet. Until my next job comes around.”

“Great, Libby told me your rate. I’m going to double it.”

“What, you’re nuts!”

“No, I just want to hedge a little against that next job.”

Take that, Mr. Flirt, she thought. Goldie was not strapped for cash. She might be a fish out of water in the water. She might not be the same girl who didn’t flinch at a leech on her backside, but she wasn’t without resources. Financial and otherwise.

“I’ll give you until the end of the season.”

“Great. I’m probably going to have to leave before then, and I’ll want to know that we’re well at hand with repairs.”

“So, back to Hollywood?”

“I have a major career to tend to. Yes, back to Hollywood, but for now, let ‘em miss me.”

“Got it. So, today’s agenda, that raccoon trap.”

“We’re setting it up?”

“Ha, no, we’re letting little Ricky the Raccoon out. He’s up there. Didn’t you hear the squeaking?”

“No, I sleep with noise-canceling headphones.”

“Well, it’s attic time for me, you game?”

“I mean, yeah?”

Goldie was game. If nothing else, all this could serve as research if she ever booked a horror movie. Creeping around an old attic, she’d know exactly what emotions to summon.

Joe and Goldie traveled up the stairs to the massive attic.

“There it is. The trap did its job.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes, but we’re going to need to restore this attic. It’s a mess.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Goldie didn’t like the look of things up here. Not that she knew what it was supposed to look like, but she had envisioned vintage furniture or dusty Victrolas. Not shredded insulation and raccoon droppings. She put her hand over her nose. She also started to rethink her impulse to buy this place.

“Don’t move. It’s probably not safe. I can’t see where I want you to walk.”

“Not safe?”

“Hang on. I’m calling my guy.”

Goldie didn’t want to get too close to the raccoon trap. And the raccoon seemed okay with that as well. She did as Joe said, and he finished his call.

Goldie stepped around the chewed-up insulation. She started to feel sort of ill.

“Ah, I’m going to get out of here.”

“Watch where you step.”

“I need to get out of here.” She was sick to her stomach.

The smell and the heat were maybe too much. She did not want to faint or vomit in front of Joe. She ignored his advice to step carefully in an effort to stave off the scene she was sure was about to go down.

“This attic floor has some weak spots. You don’t want to—”

She felt a wave of nausea and lunged for the attic door. She ran down the steps as fast as possible. That was it. She was going to hurl. Nothing was more important than getting to a bathroom at that moment.

She ran to the first one on the third-floor hall and ralphed, as J.J. called it back in the day, into the sink. Lucky, it was mostly liquid. Coffee was the only thing in her stomach so far today.

She turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face. She took a few breaths. She was feeling better already.

She heard heavy footsteps behind her.

“Give me a minute.”

“Are you okay?”

“A minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked at herself in the pocked mirror. Offhandedly, Goldie wondered about each bathroom. Did they all need new mirrors?

She was pale, had a little chill as her body adjusted to leaving the attic heat, and she felt a little burning sensation on her legs.

Whatever, she was fine. She leaned down and drank a little water from the tap. She swished it around her mouth. Joe knocked on the door again.

“I’m coming in if you don’t come out.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Goldie turned off the water and walked out to find Joe, looking more concerned than the situation required.

“If something is wrong, you don’t run away from help.”

“Ah, you’re bossing me now?”

“You could have fallen down those steps or through the insulation. I said stay still.”

“I got sick to my stomach, not a biggie. It’s not exactly fresh up there, and you know, it’s hot.”

“Still.” Joe appeared to be looking her up and down.

Goldie reached down and rubbed her ankles. They felt irritated.

“What’s wrong?”

“My legs, uh, sting a little.”

“Okay, you need to take a shower. A cold shower. Do not rub your ankles. Try not to itch them either. I think fiberglass particles are on your ankles. That’s what’s stinging. It’s from the old insulation. When you shower, you want the pores to stay closed. Understand? And do you have aloe vera?”

“I do.”

“Use that after you take your cold shower. It’ll calm the skin. We’ve got to remove the insulation up there. We’re going to have to do foam. You’re too sensitive to fiberglass. I shouldn’t have let you up there.”

“Let me? I own the place.”

“You’re not going up again. It’s my job anyway.”

“And don’t you have a raccoon in a cage to manage? I’ll deal with my own issues.”

“Crap, yes, I do. Okay. Rinse off, I’ll get rid of the critter, and you stay out of the attic.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Goldie did think a shower was in order after her attic experience.

“I’m going to have my buddy pick up the raccoon. I’ll be on the grounds, but text me if you’re nauseous again. Or if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t put those clothes in your normal hamper.”

“What?”

“Just put them on the floor. I’ll come to get them in a garbage bag. They’re not expensive, I hope.”

Goldie did not have a gauge for what Joe thought was expensive.

Goldie did as Dr. Joe instructed.

Her phone buzzed with a text every ten minutes. Each time, it was Joe.

You okay?

Remember not to itch.

Go easy on the aloe vera. You don’t want to rub it in hard.

At first, it was annoying, and then, it started to dawn on her what was happening. Joe gave a darn. He was legitimately worried about her.

After she was showered, changed, and feeling a million times better, she went outside to find him. Joe was waving to a man driving a truck that was leaving the property.

“Ricky the Raccoon taking a trip?”

“It’s all humane. He’ll take him to the woods, where he can’t eat insulation or poo inside.”

“Good, that makes me happy. So, what’s next on the agenda for the day?”

“I would think you firing me.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have let you in the attic. I should have checked your footwear. That’s inexcusable.”

“Please, it’s fine. I’m not going to fire you.”

“I think you might because things are about to get awkward.”

Before she could ask him what he meant, Joe swept her up in his arms and kissed her. It wasn’t shy or tentative. He was sweaty and tasted salty. She kissed him right back.

And then he let her go and looked her straight in the eye. “See…things could get awkward.”

“I like awkward. Now get back to work. This hotel won’t renovate itself.”

Goldie turned around. She had no plan on where she was headed, but she knew she needed to have a cute exit.

She walked through the kitchen, out the side door, and out into the grounds.

She’d been in dozens of romantic movies, in several real-life passionate love affairs, but Joe Cassidy, contractor, in a tenth of a second, had blown away some of the most famous heartthrobs on the planet in the kissing department.

“Well, all be darned.” She looked back at the hotel.

Where was she going to say she went after she walked away from his kiss?

She hadn’t thought that far ahead as she made her adorable exit. For the first time since she didn’t know when, she was flustered by a man.