“Two moms. Two dads. Three sibs,” he offered.
“Your moms might be biased, but that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”
“Why, Ms. Nichols, are you flirting with me?”
“I’m not flirting. I’m flattering you. Because if I do hire you, I’d want you to be okay with me using my sweaty, good-looking landscaper to keep the show interesting.”
“Hmm.” Silas rubbed a hand over his truly excellent beard of stubble. She could practically hear her female viewership—and a good percentage of the men—purr. “Is this the same pitch you gave Jim?”
She did laugh then. “No. I went more with the ‘free advertising for his business’ angle. I have a few thousand followers in Idaho, a few hundred that could be considered local. I’ll get more with this project. The more viewers who see your business, who see the people and hear the stories behind them, the more customers you’ll get out of the deal. I’ve got numbers on new sales leads after working with me. They’re good and getting better. And with all of that said, I sure don’t mind seeing a discount worked out here or there for my troubles.”
“You’re a very smart woman, Maggie. I like that about you.”
“I’m no therapy dog school dropout, but I do okay.”
His laugh—a genuine one—tickled something inside her. Something that required squashing because casually dating contractors was a hard no after both Maggie and Dean had made that mistake early on.
“This is a big job. And it’s got cameras, but the work isn’t for the cameras,” she told him. “It’s got to be real. Because at the end of the day, this needs to be someone’s dream home, and they have to be inspired to pay me top dollar for it.”
“I wouldn’t be here if you or someone hadn’t already done the research,” he guessed. “My crew is good. Solid. Not just dependable, but we’re damn creative, too. I’d be happy to drive you around and show you some of my projects downtown,” he offered with a wolfish wiggle of his eyebrows. “You know. Prove my prowess to you and all.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Though, full disclosure, you’d be driving my partner, Dean, around because I’ll be busy demoing the hell out of every damn room for the next week or two.”
He leaned in close enough that Maggie thought for a second he might be lining up to kiss her. Which would mean she’d have to find herself another landscaper.
She was relieved when he stopped just outside the edge of her personal space. “Maggie Nichols, I don’t mean to scare you off, but I think you just might be the girl of my dreams.”
She gave him the eye. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Never in my life,” he said, making an X with his finger over his heart. “How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?”
She rolled with the change in subject. “I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t want pancakes and eggs every once in a while for dinner. How do you feel about being on camera?”
She heard the already familiar screech of the screen door behind her. This time the noise was interrupted by a clunk and a crash. The hinges gave up their decades-long fight and surrendered, sending the door crashing to the porch floorboards.
“Maggie, if you don’t burn this hellhole down to the foundation, I’ll do it for you,” Dean bellowed.
“I’ll fix it,” she called back cheerfully. “Come over here and meet the landscaper before you make any more arson threats in front of witnesses.”
Dean clomped over in jeans and sneakers that were too nice to do any dirty work. He had an iPad in one hand and a very large coffee in the other.
Juggling both, he freed a hand and offered it to Silas. “Morning,” he said with slightly less grump.
“You must be Dean,” Silas said, shaking hands.
“That’s me. Has the tour of this three-story garbage dump scared you off yet?”
“One man’s garbage dump is another’s mountain of hidden potential,” Silas responded.
Maggie grinned.
Dean shook his head. “Great. Now there’s two of you.” He looked pointedly at Silas’s backward cap and then at Maggie and smirked.
She shook her head and mouthed, Don’t. You. Dare.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, Silas?” Dean asked.
Maggie elbowed Dean hard in the ribs.
The landscaper watched their exchange with interest. “Thirty-seven.”