#HotAndHandy (Keeney Builds #1)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

T he place was packed, half the population of Keeney in attendance. At least, it seemed that way. Hilary scanned Vincent and his friends. They cleaned up well. Carl and his date Julia both wore tuxes. Marcia displayed a surprising amount of cleavage in an ivory cocktail dress. Ali was in a suit, but when spotting Tomas in his black jeans, black shirt, and black cowboy boots, he promptly removed his tie. Tomas’s date was the same cousin who did Hilary’s hair and makeup. Anjelica’s dress was full-skirted, red, with small white polka dots, and looked like something from the ’50s.

Standing next to Vincent, a nervous thrill went through Hilary. She looked fabulous and felt amazing. Anjelica wielded a makeup brush like a magic wand. She’d given Hilary smoky eyes, high cheekbones, and a choice between bright red lipstick and a nude gloss. She chose the nude gloss to match the nude heels. After Vincent took her home, she planned to switch to the red heels and red lipstick, and lose the dress. He looked like a god. While off the rack, his dark suit, dark shirt, and dark tie appeared to be made for him. He hadn’t let go of her hand since they parked the car .

“You guys, go find our table, we’ll be with you in a few minutes,” Vincent said.

With a lift of his chin, Tomas led the others away, leaving Vincent and Hilary standing near the door. She looked up at him expectantly. “What’s up?”

Maneuvering her into a corner, he positioned himself so his back was toward the room full of guests. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silk bag. Wordlessly, he handed it to Hilary.

Eyes narrowed, she slowly opened the bag and removed a wide silver cuff bracelet. She bit her lip, blinking rapidly, then raised her head to place a soft kiss on his lips.

He released his breath in a whoosh. He took the bracelet and opened the clasp. Inside was an exact replica of the dove tattooed on Hilary’s wrist. “Tomas made it.”

“It’s lovely. Thank you.” She held her wrist out for Vincent to put the bracelet on, waving her other hand up and down in front of her. “Everything you’ve done…thank you.”

Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckles and whispered, “You’re worth it.” Stepping back, he turned toward the room, still holding Hilary’s hand. “Let’s do this thing.”

Over tequila shots in the parking lot, Marcia shared her plan with the rest of the group. Carl, Tomas, and their dates would distribute postcards to each place setting. It was a bold move, but Marcia explained that she would rather apologize for distributing the postcards than ask to do so.

The front of the postcard showed the Keeney Building Supply logo and the Keeney Community College logo superimposed over a blueprint of a house. On the back side were the details of the course Vincent and Tomas would teach to underserved students.

Ali and Marcia would chat up the board members, find out if they’d heard about the program, and extol its benefits to the community.

Hilary’s assignment was to introduce herself to Fiona. Easy peasy. She had her elevator speech down pat, she looked fabulous, and Vincent was ready to provide backup if needed. Easy peasy.

With the benefit of four-inch heels, Fiona Han stood slightly above five feet. In a navy sheath, black hair up in a chignon, pearls in her ears and around her neck, she looked every inch the executive director of a worthy non-profit organization as she spoke to someone across the room.

For a brief moment, Hilary panicked. Her shoes were too high, her dress was too short, her makeup was too heavy, her jewelry was… She touched the cuff on her wrist. Vincent’s gift. His many gifts. He believed in her, and now it was time for her to believe in herself. She squared her shoulders, let out a breath, and sallied forth, only to be brought up short when a man stepped in front of her.

Without looking at him, she moved to go past him, but he moved the same way. The same thing happened when she tried the other direction.

“Hey, pretty lady, what’s your hurry?” Eddie McLeod asked, grinning crookedly and holding a drink she suspected wasn’t his first.

She replied, “There’s someone I need to speak to,” and tried to move past him only to be stopped when he held out his arm.

“Who do you want to talk to? I know everyone here. Well, everyone worth knowing. Tell me who it is, and I’ll come with you.” He looked her up and down and winked. “Then we can go get a drink.”

Giving him her most disarming smile, she said, “Thanks. An introduction to your wife would be wonderful.”

It seemed to take a moment for him to register what she said, and then he blinked and mumbled something before taking off in the other direction. She exhaled her relief, and looked around for Fiona, hoping she hadn’t seen the interaction. Fortunately, Fiona was just finishing up a conversation .

Hilary approached with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Fiona Han?”

The diminutive woman looked up, a polite smile on her lips.

“I’m Hilary Banks, we’ve been playing phone tag for the last couple of weeks.”

Fiona took her hand, and her smile brightened. “Yes. Preparing for the gala has consumed me. It’s nice to put a face with a name. I promise to call you next week.” She withdrew her hand and began to move away.

“I’ll walk with you. I know you need to get to your guests, and won’t take much of your time.” Hilary marveled at her own boldness, continuing to speak. “Keeney Community College is planning a skills course for entering the building trades. We’re focusing on at-risk students and are teaming up with Keeney Building Supply to provide students with an internship opportunity. Students would work under the supervision of the two contractors KBS has on hand. KBS would then—”

Fiona stopped, forcing Hilary to stop as well. “I’ve heard about the contractors at KBS—they’re criminals.”

Hilary eyed her warily. “They did serve time in a minimum-security facility. However, while doing so, they completed a contracting program, have earned their licenses, and have reputations for doing good work. Customer reviews—”

Fiona’s lips thinned. “They are slick cons who intimidate old ladies,” she scanned Hilary from head to toe, “and prey on divorcées.”

“Excuse me?” Hilary’s eyes went wide.

Fiona shook her head. “You seem like a nice woman. But don’t let yourself be taken in by that scheming low life. He takes advantage of vulnerable women and has been stringing my mother-in-law along for years. Iris is too soft-hearted and should listen to Eddie because Victor Ortiz will rob her blind and take away her livelihood.

“Now I must go. Enjoy your evening.” She turned abruptly, waving like a prom queen to a group of well-heeled businessmen.

“Vincent. His name is Vincent Ortiz,” Hilary mumbled to Fiona’s retreating back. With slumped shoulders and brimming eyes, she stumbled her way through the crowd to the restroom, thankful to find it empty. What would she tell Vincent? She’d been so positive Keeney Works would support them, support him .

Eyes swimming with tears, she faced herself in the mirror. The bold blue dress no longer set off her silver-gray hair, giving her confidence. It mocked her. Who was she to think she could wow the head of a major non-profit? She was a joke. She didn’t belong here. With shaky hands, she pulled her phone out of her clutch and exited the restroom, intending to call an Uber. Head down, she walked into a solid wall of muscle.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, looking into Tomas’s dark scowling face. His eyebrows went up in silent inquiry as he loosely held her arms.

“Silly me, I wasn’t paying attention. I’m just…going to get a glass of wine,” Hilary muttered, unable to meet eyes that seemed to see every thought in her head. His face softened, and he squeezed her arms gently before releasing her.

At the end of the hallway was a T-junction. Left to the entrance and freedom, right to the bar and purgatory. Looking back, Hilary saw Tomas watching her, arms crossed, head cocked to the side. She gave him a finger wave and turned to the bar.

The low hum of conversation filled the dimly lit bar of the Keeney Country Club as gala attendees fortified themselves before the dinner. Hilary stood just inside the entrance, breathing a sigh of relief. No one she knew. Finding a table farthest from the door, she huddled on the bench in the dark corner. She ordered white wine from an attentive server, and settled back with hands clasping her upper arms. She shivered from the air-conditioning, wishing she’d brought a wrap with her. But it was a gray pashmina, and she’d deliberately left it at home.

Vincent texted: How’d it go?

Hilary stared at the screen, heaving out a breath. Can’t talk. Busy right now.

Vincent responded with a thumbs-up and a kissy-face emoji.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the wall, wondering what she would tell him and knowing she didn’t have long before she’d have to do so. The air filled with the cloying scent of aftershave as someone sat next to her. She opened her eyes to find Eddie McLeod seated close beside her, much too close.

“Come here often?” he asked, leaning in and leering at her. What was once a pristine white cotton shirt was stained, his navy silk tie hanging loose around his neck.

The combination of bourbon and Brüt nearly made her gag. She pulled back, then Eddie pushed in. He placed one arm along the top of the leather seat back, letting his fingers brush against her bare shoulder while his gaze roved over her face, down the front of her dress, and zeroed in on her crossed legs. The fabric had ridden up, exposing a length of her thigh. Eddie licked his lips. He traced a finger down the column of her neck. “You look familiar, but I can’t quite remember…” He placed his drink on the table and moved his hand toward her leg. She intercepted it with her own, dropping it back on the table. Could the night get any worse?

“Nice to see you again, Eddie,” she muttered.

He moved his gaze slowly up her body then fixed on her face. “Remind me where we met. ”

If she needed confirmation that she was forgettable, this was it.

His hand was headed back to her leg. She plucked it away and put it back on the table. Wrong move. Grinning like this was a game, his other hand slid down the back of her neck, stopping when he encountered the bare skin of her back. Hooded eyes glittered, and he shifted closer. She grabbed his leg, just above the knee, and squeezed hard. He hissed and licked his lips again. Shit! Feeling his right hand sliding down her back, she leaned forward, gripped the thumb of his left hand, and yanked it back.

“You fucking cock tease! I’ll—”

Eddie flew back and crashed into a table, toppling it to the floor and landing in a tangle of limbs. Vincent yanked him up by his neck and plowed his fist into Eddie’s nose. The crunch of cartilage breaking made the bar patrons wince. Hilary leaped up, grabbing Vincent’s arm before he could inflict any more punishment. “Stop!” she shouted. Vincent whirled around, shaking her off and sending her stumbling back.

“Back off,” he snarled.

W atching her slink across the room like a runway model down a catwalk, Vincent had wanted to announce to anyone within earshot that Hilary was with him. Head high, shoulders back, she looked like she owned the room and wouldn’t let anyone take it from her.

Something cold and wet pressing against the back of his neck startled him from his thoughts.

“Here.” Tomas thrust a beer at him.

“Asshole,” Vincent replied, taking it.

“You’re welcome,” Tomas smirked .

They moved to stand with their backs against a pillar and watched the people around them.

“Did you finish handing out postcards?” Vincent asked.

Tomas made a disgusted sound. “One guy asked me to get him a drink, and the catering manager demanded to know why I wasn’t in uniform, so I gave the cards to Carl.” He gestured to his black shirt and jeans. “Apparently, I look like the help.”

It was Vincent’s turn to smirk. “I told you you should have worn a jacket.”

“Whatever.” He used his beer to point across the room. “Who’s that with Hilary?”

“Shit. It’s Eddie.”

Tomas stopped him before he could take two steps. “Hang on. Don’t go all Neanderthal.”

Bristling with impatience, Vincent waited. If Eddie did anything to Hilary…

“He’s gone,” Tomas said. He turned Vincent toward a server carrying a tray of appetizers after Eddie walked away. “Let’s get something to eat while Hilary does her job.”

He took Vincent’s arm when he hesitated and said reassuringly, “Relax. She’ll be fine.”

Y ears of pent-up frustration were released with that one blow. Hilary flinched, grabbing onto the back of a chair. His face filled with fury and pain, he leaned into her. “What the hell are you doing in here? I warned you about him, but I find you in the corner squeezing his thigh. You pass me over for Eddie McLeod? That’s why you were busy?”

Rearing back as if struck, her mouth opened, but no words came out. She looked past him to the people gathering behind him and snapped it shut. Reaching for her clutch, she cast him one last tearful look before lowering her eyes, and pushing her way through the growing crowd.

Eddie groaned at Vincent’s feet. “You broke my nose.” A server reached down to help him up, and he struggled to stand, blood pouring down his face.

“You put your hands on my woman,” Vincent ground out between clenched teeth.

Eddie snorted, blowing a bloody snot bubble out of his nose. “Your woman? That dried-up flat-chested bit—”

This time, it was a shot to the jaw. Eddie went down and stayed down. Vincent loomed over him but was grabbed from behind and held back.

“Stop! Get a hold of yourself,” Ali ordered as Tomas pinned his arms to his sides.

Vincent’s chest heaved as the haze in his head was replaced by a painful throb in his hand. Jesus, that hurt. “I’m fine,” he said, looking up to see a crowd staring at him in horror.

“That’s my husband, out of my way!” Fiona Han pushed her way through and kneeled beside Eddie. “What did you do now?” she muttered as he turned bleary eyes toward her.

“Nothing, ” Eddie slurred. “He decked me for no reason. I asked a woman what time it was, and he hit me.”

Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “You just wanted to know the time?” She flicked her gaze up at Vincent.

“Yep,” Eddie answered, splashing blood over his shirt with each bob of his head.

“Why? Did your watch stop?” Fiona grabbed his left hand and pushed up the sleeve.

Crying out in pain, Eddie cradled his hand against his chest. Fiona leaped to her feet and confronted Vincent. “You punched my husband then stomped on his hand when he was down. I will press charges!”

“Not so fast, Fiona.”

Vincent looked past Fiona to find his mother approaching. He shifted his attention to the servers following closely behind her. Two women flanked a third, their arms protectively around her waist.

Fiona glared at Marcia. “My husband is injured, someone call 9-1-1. We need the medics and the police.”

“They’re on their way,” Marcia announced. “The bar manager called when one of the servers said Eddie assaulted her.”

A murmur went through the crowd. Fiona glared down at Eddie.

“I didn’t! I was just standing there, and her ass fell into my hands. Then she wiggled it.”

“Bullshit!” The server in the middle stepped forward, mascara running down her tear-stained face. “I bent to pick up a glass, and he ground himself into me and wouldn’t let go. Then he laughed and went over to the woman in the corner.”

The server on the left, a slightly older woman picked up the story, staring directly at Fiona. “Your asshole of a husband hit on that woman. He backed her into the corner and kept pawing at her. When he wouldn’t stop, she bent his thumb back. I hope it’s dislocated.” The crowd shifted, and the woman kept going, this time looking each man in the eye. “I hope she presses charges. A woman should be able to go into a bar by herself. She should be able to have a drink without men thinking she’s there to get picked up.” She delivered her parting shot at Vincent. “She deserved better than that.”

It didn’t take long for the paramedics to show up, followed closely by the cops. Eddie loudly insisted he should be the one pressing charges. Fiona told him to shut up and stood back as the cops hauled him away in handcuffs.

In the same corner where Eddie hit on Hilary, Marcia didn’t hold back, spewing her anger and disappointment. Vincent sank lower with every word .

“She was assaulted. Do you get that? Assaulted!”

“Ma, I got him off her.”

Marcia flung her arm out. “Yeah, and then what did you do? You assumed the worst. You didn’t let her speak. You didn’t bother to find out what really happened. Now she’s gone.” She took a breath. “Do you remember the night you were arrested?”

The change of subject nearly gave him whiplash. “Of course I do. How could I forget it?”

Marcia moved closer to cup his chin so he couldn’t look away. “You were so angry and frustrated, telling me over and over how they wouldn’t listen to you.”

Looking back at his mother, Vincent let the memory wash over him. Being pressed against the wall while his apartment was ransacked. The cops talking over him and not letting him speak, ignoring his protests and questions, already convinced that he was guilty.

Closing his eyes and nodding, he realized the magnitude of his error. Motivated by anger and jealousy, he’d lashed out before knowing what was happening. Not caring about Hilary, not caring about the truth, caring only for his wounded pride.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Marcia said, releasing his chin to run her hand through his hair. “But you messed up, and as bad as you are hurting, Hilary is hurting even more. You need to fix this and fast.”

V incent sat at a round banquet table in an empty events room, staring at the floor. He’d given his statement to the police, and charges wouldn’t be pressed, but he couldn’t move, anchored in place by shame and frustration. He’d screwed things up with Hilary, and he’d screwed things up for Hilary, having all but destroyed her grand plans .

Cutlery clinked against china in the distance. The gala was in full swing, applause breaking out occasionally. A pair of tiny high-heeled shoes entered his line of sight. He looked up to see Fiona Han approaching, her dress pristine, not a hair out of place. He straightened but didn’t stand.

“I only have a moment until…” she gestured behind her. “May I sit?”

Vincent jerked his head at a chair and turned to face her.

She fiddled with the jade bracelet on her slim wrist instead of looking at him. “Eddie…my husband…deceived me.”

Vincent released a mirthless laugh. “You think? Eddie McLeod is a first-class liar and has been since grade school. Yet you married him.” He shook his head sharply. “You could have had anyone.”

A mask descended over Fiona’s face. “You don’t know anything about me,” she said in a tight voice.

Lips twisted, he remained quiet. After a few tense minutes, Fiona broke the silence.

“Your team has been very effective in their campaign. The board members of Keeney Works want to invite you to make a presentation at their next meeting.”

“Me?”

“You and your partner, a representative from KBS, and Hilary Banks.” She sat back and cocked her head to the side. “I hope you can make that work.”

Pretty sure she wasn’t referring to the board meeting, he muttered, “I do, too,” staring at the busted knuckles on his hand. He glanced up to see Tomas enter the room. Fiona looked over her shoulder as well. Vincent raised a hand, and Tomas stopped.

Looking down at her bracelet again, Fiona said, “I know very little about Iris. Eddie intimated his parents didn’t like…um…immigrants. I’m guessing that was a lie as well. I haven’t seen Iris since her husband passed away.” She looked up, flag s of color high on her cheekbones. “I intend to rectify that.” She stood to leave.

“Did you look after the books for KBS when Darryl was sick?” Vincent watched her closely.

Brow furrowed, Fiona shook her head. “I offered, but Eddie declined.”

“You never helped with payroll?” Vincent pushed.

Her frown deepened. “No. Eddie said his parents wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t want me close to their money,” she said in a low voice. “Why?”

Standing, Vincent waved Tomas over, then looked down at Fiona. “Eddie’s been embezzling for the past year. Iris asked him about it in front of me and two other witnesses. He said you did it.”

Fiona rocked back on her heels, sucking in a breath. She met Vincent’s gaze, then looked away. She spoke through pinched lips, “I see. I really must speak with Iris. Soon.”

Tomas passed her and handed an icepack to Vincent, then stepped back, hands clasped loosely in front of him, and nodded at Fiona.

“Please bring a club soda and lime to my table.” She spun on her heel and headed to the door.

“Fiona,” Vincent called.

She stopped and glanced back.

“He doesn’t work here. This is my partner, Tomas Alvarado.”

Tomas cocked his head to the side and stared at her. Shoulders hunched, Fiona dropped her gaze and continued out the door.

Vincent threw Tomas a crooked smile. Tomas scowled, “Entitled women piss me off.”

“Yeah, but that entitled woman wants us to make a presentation to Keeney Works.”

“Us?” His eyebrows rose .

Vincent sighed. “We need Hilary.” His shoulders fell, and he stared at the floor. “I screwed up.”

“No shit. I saw her before she went into the bar. I don’t know what happened, but she looked upset.”

“Fucking Eddie.” Vincent fisted his hands, then hissed at the pain in his knuckles. He joined Tomas.

Walking toward the banquet room, Tomas asked, “Why did you think Hilary was with him? She’s into you, only you.”

Vincent shrugged and shifted the ice pack. “Did you see her? So sure of herself. She spoke to all these people like she owned the place. She belongs here, drinking martinis and playing squash.” He shook his head slowly.

“Hilary plays squash?”

Vincent shoved him with his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do, but isn’t that what you wanted? For her to have her confidence back? And you haven’t answered my question. What made you think she was with Eddie?”

“I walked into the bar to get a beer, thinking Hilary was with Fiona, which was good. It meant she was making progress. It surprised the hell out of me when I saw her sitting with Eddie, and I thought they must have been making plans when they were talking earlier. She had one hand holding Eddie’s leg, the other holding his hand. And I…lost it.”

“Holding his hand? She was breaking his damn thumb,” Tomas muttered.

Vincent groaned in frustration. “I didn’t know that! I saw Eddie’s hands all over my woman, trying to screw me over again.”

Tomas took Vincent by the arm and led him into an alcove. Holding him by both shoulders, he leaned close and spoke fiercely. “That’s twice tonight I’ve heard you say your woman . Do you really feel that way?”

Vincent nodded .

“Does Hilary know you feel that way?”

Vincent grimaced. “I don’t know. I’ve never said it to her.”

“Do it. Tell her what you told me. And apologize.”

Vincent shook off Tomas’s hands. Shoulders slumping, he stared at him. “I’m such an idiot. Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

Tomas pulled back and looked him in the eye. “You won’t know until you try.”

“I hear you. Now let go so I can go to her.”

Tomas grinned and pushed Vincent away. “Get the hell out of here.” He sauntered into the banquet hall, as Vincent tore off to the parking lot.

“ I ris! Iris, it’s Vincent. Open the door, please.”

Finally, a light went on, and the door opened. Vincent sagged against the door frame.

“Iris, Hilary’s not answering her door, and I don’t have a key, can I use yours?”

Clutching her robe around her, she looked up at him, her gaze filled with apology. She shook her head. “I can’t give it to you.”

“What? She’s upset, and I need to talk to her.” He stood up straight.

“I know, Vincent. But I can’t give you the key. I promised her I would not let anyone into her place without her consent.” Iris looked sympathetic, but her tone was firm.

Voice rising, he said, “The lights are off, her car’s in the driveway, but she’s not answering her phone. I need to know she’s safe.”

Iris bobbed her head. “She made it home safely. I heard her go up the stairs.”

Grabbing his hair with both hands, he squeezed his eyes shut and pleaded, “Iris, please, I need to see her. I screwed up so bad. I just… ”

Iris sighed. “I know what happened.” She stared at the damaged knuckles of Vincent’s hand.

He blew out a sigh and stared at the woman who had loved him his whole life. Hilary wasn’t the only woman hurt this evening.

Iris shook her head. “Your mom called. I’ve…I’ve had my head in the sand for a long time. Eddie is…” Tears filled her eyes, but she wiped them on her sleeve. “He called from the police station to tell me he’s been charged with drunk and disorderly, and sexual assault.” Her voice broke on the last word, and Vincent stepped forward to wrap her in his arms.

Holding her as she cried softly, he stared over her shoulder into her cluttered home, filled with photos of her, Darryl, and Eddie, and wondered where it went wrong. No family was perfect, but from the outside looking in, it sure seemed like Eddie had it good. KBS was a thriving business and would come to him eventually, so why screw over his mother? And screw around on Fiona, too. Because Vincent wasn’t convinced this was the first time Eddie’s hands went wandering.

Pulling back, Iris stepped into the kitchen, and reached for a paper towel to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. “I’m leaving him there overnight.”

Vincent nodded, not that she needed his approval. He spotted Iris’s cellphone and picked it up.

“Would you call Hilary for me? Please? I have to know that she’s alright.”

Iris took the phone from him, saying, “I won’t give you the key. I will, however, call and check on her.” She kept her eyes on him while it rang. “Hi…Hilary, honey, Vincent is here and wants to see you.” Her shoulders drooped. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll tell him. Call if you need anything.” Putting the phone down, she touched Vincent’s battered hand. “She’s not ready. Try again tomorrow. ”

Vincent nodded, tried a smile, and headed out into the night.

“Vincent,” Iris called.

He looked back to find her framed in the doorway, a dark shape against the light from inside. “Don’t give up on her. She’ll come around.”

Will she, though? He’d like to blame Eddie, but it was his own damn fault. Hilary didn’t like drawing attention to herself, and his lashing out without waiting to hear her side of the story had put her squarely in the spotlight.

“I hope so,” he mumbled, looking up at the darkness shrouding Hilary’s home. For the first time in weeks, he walked to the tiny house to sleep alone.