Page 8 of How Dare You
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The search results for this address are a mess. Turbine Café, Voyeur Motors, Voyeur Café, Station 19, but it’s the address Bradley gave me. He and his wife just had a baby girl last year, and things have been tough for them, both financially as well as managing the workload of their home and family. He just got a second job bartending at this place that’s evidently also a coffee shop. The owners mentioned needing some custom tables built in a hurry—so here I am.
“Oh, good!” A short, bubbly woman comes out from behind the counter when I walk in. “You’re the carpenter, right? You look carpenter-ish.” She waves a hand in the direction of my gray shirt that’s likely covered in specs of sawdust. “I mean that as a compliment, by the way. You are, right?” she asks, her brown ponytail bouncing as she talks.
“I am,” I laugh, extending a hand.
She introduces herself as Allie and insists on making me a drink.
A stocky, dark gray pit bull with a thick white stripe running from her nose to her ears walks up to me and leans her heavy head against my leg. “Who’s this?” I ask, leaning down to pet the dog.
“Oh, did Betty find you?” Allie asks from inside a refrigerator.
“If she’s a sweet pit bull, then yes,” I laugh.
“That’s her. She’s an excellent judge of character, so that’s a good sign.” A good sign for what? The dog nuzzles her head into the palm of my hand. “Did they talk to you about the cabinets?” Allie asks, as she pulls a plastic cup off a tall stack.
“Not yet.” Who’s they?
“I’ll ask our designer to go over it with you.” The mention of a designer has my mind shifting to Devon. It’s been well over a week since I last saw her, long enough that the only reason I’ve seen Bea at the Cactus Street project and not her, has to be that she’s avoiding me. “She’s in my office,” Allie continues. “She should be out any second. Have you seen the plans for the tables?”
“No, ma’am.” I smile.
“Well shit. We’ve got lots to catch you up on. I have the plans. Gimme just a sec.” She pulls some papers from a stack on her back counter and sets them down with my drink on the counter. “I’ll go get her.”
After giving Betty a final pet, I lean on the counter to check out the plans. They’re meticulous and thorough, so it shouldn’t surprise me when I find Friday West Interiors in the bottom left. She’s here. Allie wasn’t just talking about a designer. A moment later, the leggy blonde I haven’t stopped thinking about since I first laid eyes on her emerges from the back room with Allie. She looks perfectly put together again today. Not a hair out of place and cream leather planner in hand. Something flashes in her navy eyes when she sees me, but it’s too quick for me to read.
Allie starts to introduce us for the third time, but Devon stops her, “We’re working on a project together. I know Rhett.” I’m half-surprised she didn’t want to keep pretending she doesn’t know me.
“Lucky you,” Allie smiles broadly at me. “Devon is my best friend in the whole wide world. She designed Turbine as it currently is,” she lifts her hands proudly referencing the coffee shop we’re standing in, “and just wait until you see everything she has planned for the remodel. She’s amazing, the actual best interior designer ever.” Devon smiles, wide and unrestrained at Allie’s compliments. I had thought Bea and Devon were an interesting pair, but Devon and Allie are an even more curious duo.
Devon’s friend goes to the register to help a customer, leaving her and I to go over the design. The tables are a fairly standard; four-legged, bar-height design, with a few well-designed functional details. The turnaround is quick, but I was already planning to prioritize the work when I thought it was just a favor to Bradley.
When I look up from taking notes on the plans, Devon is watching me with the same sincere, twilight gaze she held me captive with one night last week. “It’s good to see you again,” I say, keeping my volume low enough to avoid her friend’s attention.
Devon pulls back, icy demeanor sliding into place. “You’re doing a solid job at Cactus Street, so I trust you can handle this.”
I tap my pencil on the plans. “Mama, I can handle anything you throw at me.”
She levels me with a glare. “Why do you insist on calling me mama?”
My mouth spreads into a broad smile. “You’ll be calling me daddy soon enough. It’s only fair.”
Chapter 3
Devon
*Ask Bea for workout playlists
*Email Nathalie from Live Your Best Life in Palm Springs
*Research other carpenters in the Coachella Valley
-Items from Devon’s to-do list, August 1st
“Hey there.” Allie rolls her knuckles against my open door as she walks into my bedroom. Her fair skin is freshly washed, leaving her round cheeks rosy and her long lashes standing out even more so than usual. She wears a black t-shirt that reads Death Before Decaf and cotton shorts that hug her thick hips and thighs. The familiar sight brings me comfort after a long day. “Sadie sent us cookies.” She holds up the tin and plops down cross-legged at the end of my bed.
“Was there a note in the box reading, ‘Great news, I broke up with my loser boyfriend, and I’m moving to Palm Springs’?” I ask, saving my work and spinning my desk chair around to face her.