Call it home, p.1
Call It Home, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by M.E. Montgomery
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Cover by Kari March Designs
Editing and proofreading by The Ryters Proof, Mel Dobner, Melissa Raynor
Contents
Author’s note to readers
1. Cam
2. Mac
3. Cam
4. Mac
5. Cam
6. Cam
7. Mac
8. Cam
9. Mac
10. Mac
11. Cam
12. Mac
13. Cam
14. Cam
15. Mac
16. Cam
17. Mac
18. Mac
19. Cam
20. Mac
21. Cam
22. Mac
23. Mac
24. Mac
25. Cam
26. Cam
27. Cam
28. Mac
29. Mac
30. Cam
31. Cam
32. Mac
33. Cam
34. Mac
35. Cam
36. Mac
37. Cam
38. Mac
39. Mac
Epilogue
Also by M.E. Montgomery:
About the Author
Author’s note to readers
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Call It Home. In writing this story, I took a few liberties with time regarding how fast TV shows can be produced. I also took a few liberties with what might be allowed to happen in an official legal hearing. But it’s fiction so ENJOY!
xo
ME :)
Chapter 1
Cam
“No.”
After my ten-minute presentation explaining a wonderful opportunity, that’s all I got? A one-word answer in the negative?
I looked across my desk at the green eyes that stared back at me with resolution and his usual mild irritation. Normally, I got along well with people. But ever since Mac had started working for Sterling Construction, it felt like there was always friction between us. It was like he had no respect for my position, and I found myself goading him into recognizing it.
“If you want to play dirty, there are better ways to do it, princess.”
I still shivered every time I recalled how low and husky his voice had dropped the time I might have “accidentally” taken the company truck I knew he used on work sites when he needed to haul the custom builds he made for us. After all, it wasn’t my fault the gift I wanted to give my younger sister, Bristol, was in the truck’s bed. And just because I’d commissioned Mac to make it, didn’t mean it wasn’t mine to give her when she opened her new business, Head to Tow Garage and Salon, with her best friend, Paige. I’d been the one to find the idea, not him.
There was just something about the way he uttered those words that stuck in my head and still caused butterflies in my stomach when I thought of them.
Anyone else, and I might have fired him. But he had mad carpentry skills, never called in sick, and seemed to get along with the other guys. Not to mention, by all accounts from my site supervisors, there wasn’t any part of the construction process he didn’t seem to understand. Despite our rough beginning and subsequent interactions, I wasn’t dumb enough to cut off my nose to spite my face. Well, at least until now.
Which led me to my current situation. I needed him, but I didn’t want him to know just how much.
“That’s it? Just ‘no’?”
Per his usual, Mac’s expression gave nothing away. His eyes remained dark and hooded by light eyelashes that were unfairly long and thick. “That’s it.”
“Why not?” It was beyond my understanding why he wouldn’t leap at this opportunity. It involved money, recognition, and a chance to show off his talent.
Eight months ago, my all-time favorite home renovation TV show, Renovation Station, announced they were taking applications for their next edition of flipping houses. I didn’t know the specifics, but on a whim—and maybe with the help of a few glasses of wine after a particularly long day—I sent in an application. I knew the odds were slim. But I was addicted to watching the show, always considering the choices I’d make if I was in their position.
Then, like an early present, this past Christmas, I got the word that Sterling Construction would be one of four teams to take part. I’d been beyond thrilled.
Until I remembered who I’d jotted down as my partner, never dreaming of the current situation.
Mackenzie Caldwell was the only guy on my crew who could possibly spend at least six weeks away from home. Unlike anyone else, he had the required skill set and didn’t have a family to miss. Not to mention, he’d look good in front of a camera. I wasn’t stupid. Women across the country would swoon over his handsome face and brawny physique.
“Do I need a reason?”
I snapped back to reality at his question.
Undeterred, I replied, “The overall winner would win a cash prize of 100,000 dollars. You’ll get 50 percent of the prize money. And you’ll also continue to earn your current pay, of course.”
There was a slight pause in his breathing. Then, “No,” again.
I choked back my sigh of frustration. “That’s 50,000 dollars, which, let’s be honest, is nothing to sneeze at for any of us. Besides, this could be a great opportunity for you.”
Mac stretched his long legs out from his chair, crossing them at the ankles while linking his fingers across his flat stomach. “I can do the math,” he retorted. “And what makes you think I need an opportunity?” His gaze bored into me.
I shrugged as if it were no big deal. It was, but I didn’t want to let him know that. “I don’t know. Maybe you’d get the recognition to start a side business making custom builds. Or you could buy a new truck or something.” I wrinkled my nose as I threw out the last comment with a little extra snark.
“My truck is fine.”
I held back an eye roll. Sure, if you called a twenty-something-year-old truck that took more than one try to turn over and was rusting out in the back fine, then sure. Seemed a little strange to me that he’d worked it out with his supervisor that he could use one of the company trucks while he was on company time. “Use it for something else, then. Or maybe someone else.”
His body remained still, but those fathomless green eyes shifted just a little, and I knew I’d hit on something. I continued to push. “Plus, with this additional experience, you’ll be eligible to be promoted to superintendent. It comes with a nice raise. Do with the money what you want. Buy a bigger place. Donate it. I don’t care.”
He held my gaze for what felt like minutes. I didn’t flinch.
Mac’s piercing gaze never wavered. “You seem pretty desperate to have me on your team,” he finally said.
Damn it. “I’m not desperate.” I struggled not to shift in my seat.
“The question is, why me? We can’t be in the same room for more than five minutes before it becomes a cat-and-dog fight.”
Because I already entered your name. I was pretty sure I could come up with an excuse to the show and swap out names, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Besides, if there had been anyone else’s name to put forth, I wouldn’t have typed his name on the application.
I decided to stick with the truth, or at least a half-truth. “I want more exposure for our company. This is a good opportunity, and despite your growly disposition, you’re good at what you do.” And you’ll look good in front of the camera. But I kept that opinion to myself.
What I didn’t add was that the job opportunities that had once flooded our office were now only trickling in. We’d had several in the pipeline when my grandfather died suddenly. A few more came our way. He died seven years ago, but in the past three years, Sterling Construction wasn’t getting the number of jobs it would take to keep us afloat. Adding national recognition would be a legitimate bragging right, and it would hopefully draw attention to Sterling Construction, which had been in my family for generations, going back nearly one hundred years. And now, under my watch, it was losing ground. I couldn’t have that.
I knew I could keep Sterling Construction afloat, keep and create jobs, and maintain my family legacy until, hopefully, I produced someone to inherit it. But I wanted to expand on it, as well.
“Why not Will? He’s got more experience than me.”
“He’s also got a family who needs him at home.”
“So, I’m single and therefore expendable? Maybe I have people counting on me.”
My eyebrow arched. “Do you?”
His mouth snapped closed as those eyes grew as hard as emeralds.
His nonanswer made me wonder if he was hiding something. Despite getting along well with any crew he worked with, he still mostly kept to himself. Ironically, one of the people he seemed to have developed a friendship with was my twin brother, Chase. He also got along well with Zach, my cousin Emalee’s husband, even helping him with a surprise project for Emalee. Sometimes he hung out with them at Ferg’s, one of our local bars that my friends and family frequented. But even then, he remained fairly reserved.
In return, the guys liked him. I wondered if he was just uncomfortable around me, but I suspected it didn’t make a d ifference. He just seemed to be a very private person.
“Let me be clear, boss lady. I have no desire to be part of any contest. My work is solid.” He looked pointedly at me. “And I don’t need other people to tell me it is.”
I knew exactly what he was insinuating. He was wrong. “I know you’re good. I am, too. That’s what would make us so great together. I think we’d be unbeatable.”
For a big guy, he jumped to his feet with the agility of a cat. I guess that clearly made me the dog in his earlier analogy. That was fine. I’d fight him for the bone I wanted.
I stood, too, and came around the desk, cautiously maintaining a distance that allowed me to look him in the eye without craning my neck. “Think about it.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I heard him mutter as he stomped out the door to my office, pulling the door closed with a loud click that echoed in the office.
When it was safe, I blew out a long, weary breath. I had anticipated he was going to be a hard sell, but I’d hoped he’d at least be open to a conversation. I had a week to get his—or someone’s—signature on the forms or I’d have to decline the offer.
Collapsing back into my chair, my eyes landed on the black-and-white photo of my grandfather and his father-in-law standing proudly in front of the brand-new building they’d designed and built decades earlier. It was the same building where I now sat. Each of them had managed the company, negotiated deals, and grew the business in the same office Mac had just vacated.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Gramps,” I said, quietly. “We were supposed to have years together to make our plan work. I’m so tired of trying to prove myself. But I won’t let you down. I promise.”
I could almost hear his answer in my head. “I know you won’t.”
We always had new guys signing on, but a couple of project managers had been with the company for years. One of them had even known me since I was a young girl who tagged along with my grandfather every chance I had. They were another reason it was important to prove myself.
Sue poked her head into my office, pulling me back to more immediate worries. Sue had been here for years. The bun she always wore her hair in was nearly solid gray, and she needed bifocals, but she was a wealth of experience I relied on, as had my grandfather. She was the only other woman who worked for Sterling Construction—not my choice, just how it was.
Her nose wrinkled, and her mouth puckered. “Bruce Montego called. He wanted to know if we were going to submit a bid,” she announced, her voice laced with disgust, a feeling I shared about the developer known for skimping on quality and allowing subpar materials for his houses in Marionville, a more bustling town in the foothills.
“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to work with him anymore and withdrew our bid,” I replied with a tinge of frustration.
“We did.” Sue sighed. “But Will thinks we should reconsider. He worked up a new proposal. It’s a little lower than the original. He thinks we need the work, and because it’s in a different location, it will get some new eyes on our company.”
Damn it. Bruce was the last person I wanted to work with. But Will had been here for nearly thirty years. The guys respected him and always looked to him—not me—for leadership. Will was always kind to me and had helped me ever since my grandfather passed, and I was dependent on him in more ways than I should be. But I always figured the guys would see that he trusted me and would follow his lead.
“Maybe he’s right.”
“You want to submit the bid?” Sue looked surprised—and maybe a little disappointed.
I shook my head. “Let me look at it again. This isn’t a limbo contest, and I don’t want to go lower than what we originally discussed.”
“I told him that, but…”
I held up my hand. “It’s not the end of the world. We probably shouldn’t turn down any work we don’t need to.”
She nodded. “Should I take it that your other meeting didn’t go as planned?”
Sue was also the only other person who currently knew about Renovation Station. I squared my shoulders and lifted determined eyes to my office manager. “Not quite. But it was only round one.”
Chapter 2
Mac
I pounded my fist on the steering wheel of my truck, my frustration boiling over. “Son of a bitch.”
I turned the key one more time, just in case miracles really happened.
Clickclickclick.
Miracles never happened to me.
The weight of exhaustion and responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders. I rubbed a hand tiredly across my face, momentarily shutting everything out while I sucked in some deep breaths.
I knew the truck was on its last legs, but I’d coaxed it along as best I could, hoping it would go just a little longer. Still, I’d known this was going to happen.
At best, it was a battery. But I had a feeling it was more serious. I should have traded in the truck years ago. The extra miles I’d put on it over the past eighteen months had pushed it too hard. It was just the crap icing on a shitty day.
Worse, it made Miss Fancy Boss Lady right about needing a new truck.
“Fifty thousand dollars…opportunity for you…”
I hated that Cam’s words came back to me and momentarily made me consider her crazy idea.
Growling to myself, I snatched my phone from the center console, where I’d tossed it after the meeting with Cameron. When I’d been summoned, I’d hoped it would be good news for a change, something like getting the promotion I’d been hoping for.
Instead, it was about some crazy scheme to be part of a television show. Like I needed to be on some reality TV contest. Reality, my ass. I knew firsthand how stories could and would be spun by people behind the scenes. People who thought they were gods or puppet masters pulling strings to create better drama—or the “truth” as they wanted it to be told.
Yeah. Hard pass.
Now frustrated by both the meeting and my truck, I tapped on one of the few numbers programmed into my phone.
“Bristol’s busy. Leave a message. Squawk!”
As tired and irritated as I was, a smile tugged at my lips at hearing the voice of the town’s honorary mayor, a snarky African Gray parrot who loved Bristol, much to the chagrin of the human mayor, Richard Bowen. He was a damned smart bird, that was for sure. One night, while hanging out with Bristol, her fiancé, Reid, and her brother, she told us how she’d taught Sterling those words while she birdsat him a few months back.
“Hey, Bristol, it’s Mac. Look, I know it’s late Friday afternoon, but I was wondering if you could take a look at my truck soon. It crapped out on me. Let me know when you can get to it. I guess it needs a tow, too. It’s out on Thurmont Road where we’re building that huge house. Thanks.”
A tap on my window startled me. It was Will Shepherd, my supervisor. I cranked down the window. At least that was one good thing about an old vehicle; I didn’t have any automatic perks that froze when the engine was dead.
“Problems, son? Need a jump or a ride?”
Will was a good guy and boss. He didn’t take any crap from anyone and rode those who didn’t pull their weight, but he was fair. He treated the crew with respect instead of bossing them around. Better than a lot of other bosses I’d had.
I hesitated. I hated asking for favors. Maybe I should walk so I didn’t have to bother him. It was only four and a half miles to my house. I was tired, but I wasn’t afraid of a little exercise. Of course, it was growing dark. And colder. Why did this truck have to do this now?
Sighing with frustration, I asked, “My truck’s dead. Could you give me a lift back to town?”
