Flirting with Disaster Read Online Free PDF Page B

it I wanted to kick myself. Why did I need to give him an explanation?  
    "You do?" He frowned and pursed his lips. I imagined he was trying to figure out when someone had managed to sell a house without his knowing about it. In a small town like ours, everyone was always looking over everyone's shoulder trying to get information about stuff like that.
    I was so mad for overreacting but I couldn't help myself. The man pressed all my buttons. "What is it to you anyway if I own or rent? If you're not interested in the job, just say so."  
    He raised one hand. "Sorry, you're absolutely right. I was not thinking. Let me play it straight with you. I'm here because I need the work, but if I had a choice, I wouldn't even be talking to you."
    Pulling up my best poker face, the one I had perfected negotiating with union leaders, I asked, "And why is that?"  
    "Because you represent everything I dislike about corporate America. You don't know the first thing about Ocean Crest nor give a shit about the people who worked all their lives for DCD and will now be thrown aside because--because--" he stopped abruptly and shook his head.  
    "But you need the job, so you'll take it?" I said.
    He shook his head. "Hell yes, I've got bills to pay and your money's just as green as the next guy’s."
    I bit my tongue not to lash at him again while Joanne bought our order. What had come over me? One of my strong suits was resisting pressure. Nothing ever phased me. Nothing. That was one of the fringe benefits of being raised by a crazy and temperamental parent. Since early childhood, I'd known better than to ever trust a blue sky. Clouds could gather in an instant and lightning strike without warning.
    Ryder stared into his coffee mug while I thanked Joanne. I dug into my food and chewed, but it might as well been cardboard. I washed it down with the soda and looked up to Ryder who was observing me eat.
    "Do you have a truck?" He nodded. "I think the first thing to do would be to clear out the place. There's some old stuff that's good for the dumpster."  
    He tilted his head making a strange face, but remained silent. I was ready to bet he still thought of me as a spoiled brat. It shouldn't bothered me, but it did. So much so, I felt the need to explain. "I'm talking about bedding that's more than twenty years old which was cheap to begin with and some broken pieces of furniture."
    "When do you want this done?"
    "As soon as possible."
    "Tonight? After six?"
    "Fine. I'll text you the address later today. Once the place is clear, I'll have a better idea of what I want done, but at least there's going to be some painting."  
    I asked his hourly rate. Compared to the prices of Manhattan what he asked for was quite reasonable so I didn't even try to negotiate. Once that was settled, I picked up the check and left for the factory wondering how this man managed to infuriate me even when he remained silent.

CHAPTER NINE

    I woke early out of habit, and was more than ready for breakfast. I cleaned up around the house until it was time to leave. I revved my bike and headed for the diner. She was already there, waiting for me. I nodded, said hello, and then sat across from her. I couldn't help wondering who she was. I'd heard her name, but still couldn't place it. Not quite déjà vu, but I felt like I'd seen her before.
    She rambled on about things she wanted done. She wanted furniture moved, a couple of rooms painted, and some other quick fixes. It felt off base. Who fixed up a rental? She claimed to own something when I opened my mouth, but I didn't remember anything selling around here recently. Usually homes were just abandoned in these parts. When people were ready to move on to bigger and better, there wasn't much to gain from a house that wouldn't sell.  
    My mind stirred, not wanting to pay attention. I forced myself to focus, but instead of hearing her words, I had the image from last night stuck in my brain. It was like an old movie playing