Dirty Deeds: Standalone sexy romance(5)

 

"I'm going home," Nathan said, irked at the dust swirls falling from his work clothes to Val's pristine carpet. He set the empty beer bottle on the counter and marveled at the atypical quiet in his sister's house. Without her kids interrupting, yelling, throwing toys everywhere, the place was downright eerie. Strange, that he preferred chaos to quiet. He had too much silence in his life as it was. "When will Rich be home with the monsters?"

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

"Not for another hour." Val's expression soured and she groaned, smoothing her palms over her lower abdomen.

 

"What?" He demanded, "Val? What's wrong?"

 

She moaned again, bit her lip and closed her eyes.

 

Terrific capper to a bad day. He settled her on the couch, placing a SpongeBob SquarePants pillow behind the small of her back. "Are you having contractions?" Hell, for all he knew, after kid number four maybe there were no contractions and the sucker just dropped to the ground unaided.

 

"I don't know."

 

His gaze sharpened. Val was a pro at this pregnancy stuff. Wouldn't she know if she was in labor? And why hadn't she started those weird breathing exercises yet? He kneeled on his haunches in front of her and murmured, "You okay?"

 

"Maybe you should stick around just in case … " Val opened her eyes, only to quickly glance away from his penetrating gaze.

 

Too quickly. He'd seen that "Who me?" bright-eyed look on his baby sister's face a million times when she was spinning another harebrained plot to complicate his life.

 

"Nice try," he said, "but you are so transparent."

 

"What?"

 

"You know what. False labor is pretty low, even for you. Don't bother crying, either," he warned. "It won't work."

 

"I'm not going to bawl, you big bully. Don't be such a jerk."

 

Man, he did not need her name-calling, on top of her friend's insulting trade-sex-for-yard-work proposal. He'd endured enough insults from his last girlfriend-for lack of a better term-to last a lifetime. "If you're not gonna plop this one out right now, I'm leaving."

 

Contrite, Val grabbed his hand, delaying his exit. "Sorry."

 

He kissed her forehead. Her manipulative nature aside, he couldn't stay mad at her for long. "Don't worry about it."

 

"But I do worry. That's why when this came up, I thought of you."

 

"Nice that I bring to mind hard-up-for-sex thoughts."

 

"Hah! We both know that's not true, since all of your past relationships have only been about sex."

 

Val had a point. An emotional connection usually proved pointless. Few women looked beyond his dirt-covered clothes, his unimpressive job, his long hair and even longer hours. Kathy, the last chick he'd dated, had informed him he wouldn't recognize romance if it bit him on the butt.

 

Duh. He dug ditches, for God's sake. Romance rarely entered the world of dirt. He knew there must be a way to sweep a woman off her feet or make the earth move without the benefit of heavy equipment; he just hadn't found the right combination yet.  

 

How would Val react if he admitted that, for once in his life, he'd prefer a good old-fashioned romance to a frantic, meaningless tumble between the sheets? He considered it for two seconds before he realized she'd laugh her ass off … and hang that unmanly need over his head for eternity.

 

No wonder he was still single.

 

Val's plea interrupted his thoughts. "Can you just hear me out? Give me a chance to explain the details?"

 

He groaned. "Are we still talking about your desperate friend?"

 

"She's not desperate, at least not in the way you're imagining." She frowned. "I can't believe you are giving up on all women."

 

"I am not giving up on all women. I'm just not bedding one in exchange for bedding plants! Jesus, Val. This is insane. Even for you." Nathan flicked his braid back over his shoulder, glaring at his sister, champion of the underdog. Dog. His face went stern. "This friend of yours. She's ugly, isn't she?"

 

"No!"

 

"Fat?"

 

Val's auburn curls shook violently. Her hazel eyes stormed, and she seemed too angry to speak.

 

He should be so lucky. "So what? She's stupid? Manic? Poor?"

 

She gave him that steely-eyed look she'd perfected at age five. "I'll give you two reasons to consider it: A) your artistic skills suck and Tate can help you; B) Tate's house is on the corner of Jackson and Main. Maybe you've passed it? Since it's on the busiest intersection in town? If you take on this project"-she spread her arms, miming an invisible billboard-"you could put up a big sign, Landscaping Design by LeBeau, and jumpstart your business plans."