#HotAndHandy (Keeney Builds #1)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

W ithout a doubt, Iris was avoiding him, so Vincent called in the big guns. He talked to his mom.

The ice chest was sitting on the kitchen table, an insulated cooler next to it. Something new. He opened it to find bottles of milk, orange juice, and water. He lifted the lid of the ice chest. It was filled to the top with sandwiches and baggies of cut-up fruit and vegetables.

Marcia bustled in, heading to the coffeemaker. Her office was in a bedroom Ali redid for her many years ago. She might work from home, but Marcia was completely dressed with full makeup. No pajamas for her.

“No pop?”

“That boy needs to eat healthy foods. He doesn’t need the sugar. It won’t hurt you, either.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed as he poked at the bag of veggies. Underneath, he found a container of ranch dressing and a baggie of cookies. He could eat the veggies, but he definitely would eat the cookies.

He joined his mother at the coffeemaker and planted a kiss on the top of her head. She leaned into him and smiled. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Is this about Hilary?”

“What?” He jerked back.

“The woman you’re seeing?” She handed him a full mug of steaming, black coffee. “Are you practicing safe sex?”

“Ma!”

Marcia grinned evilly and leaned against the counter. He shook his head at her. “Yes, we’re being safe.” The truth was, they weren’t using anything. It was the first time in his life he’d ever done so, and he felt honored that Hilary had let him do so. But his mother didn’t need to know that.

“You deserve someone special, and she seems like a nice woman. But are you sure she’s not on the rebound and only using you? That’s what divorcées do you know.”

Great. Like he needed that thought rolling around in his brain. He glared over his coffee at her. “What the hell, Ma?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just messing with you. Hilary doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would do that. More like the relationship type.”

Now he had that thought in his brain, which felt a hell of a lot better. A relationship with Hilary? He pictured himself taking her to the movies or out to dinner. Spend the day hiking or maybe skiing. He made a mental note to ask her if she skied or snowboarded. Snuggled up with Hilary in front of a fire after a day on the slopes sounded perfect.

Marcia patted his arm and made to leave the room.

He shook off the image and said, “It’s not Hilary I want to talk about. It’s Iris.”

Now he had Marcia’s full attention. She moved to the table and sat down, cradling her coffee mug between her hands. “She hasn’t called me for a while. I didn’t see her at church yesterday, either. But then I got busy…”

“I’m not sure what it is, but something is going on at KBS, and Iris is avoiding me.” At Marcia’s anxious expression, he held up a hand. “Tomas and I are busy, and lots of work is coming in. Ali told me we’re doing great. Eddie is still out of commission. Maybe it’s him. When I get done this afternoon, would you come by the store? Maybe grab Ali, and we’ll talk to Iris together?”

She nodded, deep in thought.

Giving her another kiss, he slung the cooler over his shoulder and hefted the ice chest. “I really appreciate you doing this, but I can feed myself.”

Her face brightened. “But then I wouldn’t get to see my boy every day. It’s not a hardship at all.”

“Thanks, Ma,” he said and headed out the door.

I t was close to five when he heard his mother enter the breakroom. “What is it about EMPLOYEES ONLY you don’t understand?” he asked.

She waved a dismissive hand. “Is Iris in her office?”

“Yeah. With the door closed.”

Marcia’s eyes narrowed. Unlike Eddie, Iris never closed the office door. She always wanted to know what was going on. “Right. Let’s go.”

“Should we wait for Ali?” Vincent asked, leaning back in his chair. He really wasn’t looking forward to this.

Marcia shook her head. “He’ll be here shortly. Might as well go rip the bandage off.”

Vincent trailed her the few steps between the two rooms. She grabbed the knob and opened the door without hesitation. He smiled slightly. His mother never hesitated.

Iris looked up and burst into tears. Marcia rushed to her and wrapped her arms around the sobbing woman. Propped against the doorway, he knew he’d done the right thing. He turned at the sound of footsteps.

“Oh boy. That’s bad,” Ali muttered.

“No shit,” Vincent replied .

Ali shouldered past him to sit in one of the two chairs facing the desk. Vincent sighed and moved to the other.

Eventually, Iris’s tears stopped, and she sat back in her chair, wiping her eyes. Marcia remained beside her. They might be best friends, but the two women were unalike. Bird-like, Iris was nervously energetic and slightly apologetic. The word for Marcia was robust. Short, rounded, and full of color, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her upright posture was a sharp contrast to Iris’s slumped form.

“Eddie’s embezzling.” Marcia stared directly at Ali and Vincent. They both jerked but didn’t say anything.

Throwing a crumpled tissue into the wastebasket, Iris heaved a sigh before speaking. “As far as I can tell, he’s been doing it for the past year. He adds a fake employee and sets up a direct deposit to a bank account. After a few months, that employee ‘quits.’” Iris air quoted. “And another takes their place.”

Hands tightening on the arms of the chair, Vincent shared a look with Ali and knew the same thought was going through his head; fucking Eddie . The guy had everything handed to him on a silver platter, yet he was screwing over his own mother.

Ali cleared his throat. “How…um…did you catch it?”

Iris glanced up and shifted in her chair. “The new state family and medical leave program. I had to account for each of the employees, and I noticed duplicate social security numbers. When I did some more digging, I saw those numbers were linked to the same bank account.”

“In Eddie’s name?” Vincent fought to keep the anger out of his voice.

Covering her face with her hands, Iris nodded. “Why would he do this?” she asked through her sobs. “We gave him everything we had. What did we do wrong? It must be Fiona’s doing. She must have taken advantage of him when Darryl died. I’m sure she put him up to it. ”

Vincent leaned forward in his chair, but Ali’s hand on his arm stopped him before he could speak. He looked up to see Marcia scowling at him. He sat back and crossed his arms, feeling impotent and wishing he could throttle Eddie.

“You and Darryl didn’t do anything wrong.” Marcia sighed and rubbed Iris’s shoulder. “You loved that boy and raised him the best way you knew how. As for the whys? Only Eddie can answer those.”

“How many fake employees are there?” Ali asked.

Iris dropped her hands into her lap and sniffed. “Two. A fake Vincent and a fake Tomas.”

“Before them, how many were there?”

“Never more than two at a time.”

Ali rubbed a hand over his bald head. “Full-time or part-time?”

“Part-time,” Iris answered, wiping her eyes. “Why?”

He blew out a breath. “Two part-time employees working at minimum wage isn’t a huge amount of money. A few grand a month, I imagine.” He said the last statement as if it were a question.

Iris nodded.

“Why would Eddie need the extra cash?” Ali squinted, looking up at the ceiling. “He makes a damn good salary.”

Vincent leaned forward, switching his focus between Iris and Ali. “I thought Eddie was an owner. Why is he drawing a salary?”

A blush moved across Iris’s blotchy face. Her attention was on the pages in front of her when she spoke. “KBS was originally set up with Darryl and me as joint partners. When it became obvious that Darryl wasn’t going to get better and Eddie came home, Darryl had our lawyer change our corporate structure. He was afraid Eddie would run roughshod over me. We changed it so Ali is the operations manager, I’m the CEO, and Eddie is the marketing manager. The three of us together were to make decisions.” She looked up at Marcia, tears welling in her eyes again. “After Darryl passed, I was lost and didn’t want to come in. Eddie would bring papers by for me to sign. And I…I just signed them without reading them.”

Shooting an evil look at the two men, Marcia wrapped her arms around Iris without a word.

“It never occurred to me to verify that Iris knew what she was signing,” Ali said, gripping the arms of the chair with white-knuckled hands. “Eddie said you were feeling poorly, so I let things go.”

Iris gave Ali a watery smile. “No one is blaming you. I…I trusted my son.”

“Did he change the corporate structure?” Marcia asked.

“No, but he gained signing access to the bank accounts,” Iris answered.

Vincent stared helplessly at his mother’s best friend, grinding his teeth with the effort of keeping his mouth shut. Iris certainly wasn’t perfect, but she did not deserve a bastard for a son.

“Is Eddie still in Vegas?” Ali asked.

Iris shook her head. “No, he’s been back in Kirkland for the past week. But he developed a reaction to the antibiotics and has a serious case of diarrhea. That’s why he hasn’t been coming into KBS.”

Eddie with a case of the trots. Good karma. Vincent chewed on his inner cheek to prevent himself from laughing. “What are you going to do?” He looked pointedly at the phone.

Iris’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. The other three waited for her to speak, not coming to her rescue. “I don’t want to bother him when he’s not feeling well,” she murmured.

Marcia rolled her eyes.

Ali’s lips thinned.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Vincent said. “Pick up the phone and ask him. It’s your business, and you have a right to know.”

“You should also hear his side,” Marcia pointed out.

Silence. Iris looked at each of them in turn, then slowly reached for the desk phone. She dialed and put the phone on speaker when Eddie answered.

“Hi, honey, how are you feeling?”

“Awful.” The voice on the other end sounded groggy. “I’m pretty sure I’ve crapped out five pounds. I can’t move more than ten feet away from the toilet. My ass is chapped—”

Red-faced, Iris cut him off. “That’s too bad hun, but umm…there’s something I need to ask you. It’s umm…about payroll.”

“I told you to leave payroll alone, I can take care of it from here. Don’t worry.”

“Well, hun, it’s just that…there’s two extra employees on the payroll, and their paychecks are going into a bank account in your and Fiona’s names.” Iris heaved a sigh after she got it out.

“Fuck,” Eddie said softly.

Vincent stirred in his chair and made eye contact with Marcia and Ali. He shifted his gaze, and it caught on a leather-bound book sitting on the corner of the desk. Why did that look familiar?

There was a strained laugh on the other end of the phone then Eddie said, “Oh! I know what that is. Fiona and I were test-driving a new automatic deposit system and used our account for the test run. She forgot to transfer the funds back. I’ll get her to do it tonight.”

Marcia nudged Iris and frowned at the phone. Iris cleared her throat before speaking again. “But, honey, it’s been happening for over a year. Didn’t you notice the extra money in the account?”

“That account belongs to Fiona. I’ve never looked at it.”

“But— ”

“Mom, I gotta go, I feel another crap coming on. I’ll call you later.”

The line went dead.

“ H e threw Fiona under the bus?”

“Yep.”

“His wife. He threw his wife under the bus?”

“Yep.”

“Who does that?”

“Eddie McLeod.”

Vincent was downing the pot roast she had cooked like he hadn’t eaten in days while her plate was untouched. She was too busy trying to process all he had told her.

“But—” She gazed at him earnestly, hands clenched on either side of her plate.

“Babe, I know.” Vincent placed his knife and fork down and reached over to take one of her hands. “Eddie thinks only of himself. He doesn’t have a soul.” He kissed her knuckles, released her hand, and went back to his meal.

It had been a long time since she had cooked a meal for a man. Her lips tipped up, she watched him butter a slice of bread and mop up the rich gravy. “I take it you like pot roast.”

“No shit. I’ve never had a better pot roast.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And don’t you dare tell my mother.”

She laughed, and finally started on her own meal. She’d been worried about cooking dinner, setting the table, sitting across the table from him. Chips and salsa on the deck on a Friday night were one thing, pot roast on a Monday was something else. Something people in a relationship did. Not friends with benefits.

He’d showered before coming over, and smelled of soap and clean laundry instead of sawdust. Stepping up behind her, he’d kissed her lightly and squeezed her waist as she stood at the counter making the salad. She’d turned back to the salad but glanced over her shoulder when she heard a sound. Vincent had re-set the table, so instead of sitting across from each other, the place settings were now at right angles to each other. He’d caught her look and shrugged slightly. “I like being near you.” Her knees had all but given out at his explanation.

Now, he got up from the table to refill their water glasses and serve himself another helping. He looked relaxed, totally at home in her apartment. Looking around, she realized he had made himself at home. His library book was on the coffee table, one of his flannel shirts hung on a peg by the door, and his travel coffee mug sat on the counter near the sink. Seating himself at the table, he settled the full plate in front of him, and began eating with quick economic movements as if expecting someone to take the plate away from him.

“After supper, I thought we would go over the outline for the course. See if there is anything we’ve missed before we give it to the curriculum department.” Putting the training program together excited her. Too many post-secondary schools concentrated on university level academic courses, ignoring the trades. A program that combined class work with on-the-job training backed by a local builder would serve the college well. Working with Vincent on it was the icing on the cake.

He swallowed a mouthful before speaking, “I thought it wasn’t due until next week.”

She toyed with her fork. “True.”

“So we don’t need to work on it tonight.”

Without working on the proposed construction course, there wasn’t a reason for him to be there. Not looking up from her plate, she shook her head. She tried not to show her disappointment, expecting him to leave at any moment. She startled when his finger dipped into the gravy on her plate. Looking up, she saw him bring his finger to his mouth and slowly lick the gravy off it. Her mouth formed an O.

He leaned into her, eyes at half-mast. “How about we do the dishes, and then find something to entertain us?”

Hilary nodded.

“You finish eating, I’ll be right back.” He rose and kissed her on the forehead.

Hilary was loading the dishwasher when he returned with a Scrabble game. She laughed, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

Vincent moved beside her, started running hot water to wash the pots, grabbed the dishcloth, and wiped down the table. “I used to play regularly with this guy. I’m damn good.”

“Was that when you were in…” Hilary was never quite sure how to refer to his time in jail.

“Inside?” Vincent quirked an eyebrow at her. “Yeah. Bill would organize tournaments. I never won, but I came close a few times.”

Hilary picked up a tea towel and started drying the pot lid Vincent handed her. “Huh. I pictured you lifting weights or playing ping pong.”

“Did that too, but Scrabble is good for the brain. Have you played?”

“Not for a while. I might be a bit rusty.”

Vincent gave her a wicked grin. “I’ll try not to take advantage of you.”

T he tiles were not presenting in Hilary’s favor. The best she could come up with was PLAY. Vincent was fast. He’d built on that before she retrieved her new tiles. He added FORE in front of the P. She didn’t look at him, instead arranging the tiles on her rack before slowly spelling out FLIRT.

Vincent used the A in PLAY for LAP .

She hung the word KISS off the bottom of the T, shifting in her chair and pressing her thighs close together.

He watched her silently as he placed COC above the K.

She turned an S into SLIDE.

He added USSY to a P.

The letters were barely on the board when he stood and advanced. He pushed her chair back and bent down, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She reached for his fly. In moments she was inside his pants, one hand on his ass, the other stroking his cock. He growled. She leaned forward and stroked the pre-cum with her tongue. “I like this game,” she said, licking her lips.

Scooping her up and heading to the bedroom, he said, “Oh, but it gets better.”

She bounced when he tossed her on the bed, staring at her with predatory eyes. His jeans hanging open, his hard cock bulged over the top of his underwear. Expecting him to move on her quickly, she shifted her legs restlessly with anticipation. After years of drought, she was happy to be getting sex on a regular basis, and Vincent didn’t disappoint. He was passionate and generous while playful and gentle. Unlike David, he didn’t shy away from her scars, learning where she was most sensitive and what pleased her.

What pleased her was watching him undress. He did so now, revealing acres of taut muscle under smooth skin. Skin she was allowed to explore.

Rising on her knees, she shed her sweatshirt and tossed it aside to reveal a turquoise camisole edged with gray lace.

A slow smile curved Vincent’s lips as he ran a finger under the satin shoulder strap. “I like this one. Does it have matching panties?”

She nodded.

“Will you show me?”

Keeping her eyes on him, she slowly slid her pants down her legs, and bent over to kick them off .

“Wait. Turn around,” Vincent ordered.

She shuffled around to display the pretty bow that covered the back of the panties, looking over her shoulder when he sucked in a breath.

“Yes,” he hissed, palming her butt cheeks with both hands. “A present just for me.”

A shiver went through her as he drew the panties down, trailing his fingers between her cleft.

He clambered onto the bed behind her and walked her up to plant her hands on the headboard. “Don’t move,” he said. Ever so slowly, his hands traced up her legs, over her hips, and around her waist. Pulling her back against him, she felt his cock press between her thighs to drag through her wet folds. Gripping a hip with one hand, he used the other to glide his cock back and forth, edging her until she saw stars. “Such a good girl,” he murmured in her ear.

“Such a jerk,” she gritted out in response.

“Yeah?” he replied. “Do you want something?”

She sighed out a yes.

“I can’t hear you. You have to tell me what you want.” He teased the head of his cock against her clit mercilessly.

She groaned. “Inside. I need you inside.”

Vincent fell back, leaving her gasping. Then he widened her legs to pull her down on top of him, driving into her sheath in a hard thrust.

“Yes,” they cried out together.

The angle was new, and she squirmed to accommodate all of him. He slid one hand inside her camisole to stroke against the underside of her scar while the other snaked down to play with her clit.

The orgasm hit her like a freight train, and she sagged in his arms. He eased her off him to lay her on the bed. Glassy-eyed, she smiled, opening her arms and legs to take him in. He entered her in one long, smooth stroke. His eyes remained on hers as he slowly moved in and out until he stiffened and found his release.

Replete, she took his weight and held him close, kissing the side of his neck and believing she truly was the luckiest woman in the world.